The slick was never far in these rooms. His hand flailed off to the side table, searching blindly for a drawer to open. He wasn't thinking about anything in their present situation other than Poe's hand on him, a gesture he was surprised to still find this intimate.

His hand wrapped around a bottle before he knew it, quickly trying to shove it into Poe's hands. Between this job and knowing when Poe was the most likely client to pick him up, Finn was already half prepared from a while ago.

"Mine," he echoed belatedly, really not used to that, so much so that it took a long moment before he realized what was said. Instead of him belonging to all of these people, Poe wanted to belong to him. His hands threaded into Poe's hair before repeating more firmly, "Mine."