Page 75 of Reckless Consequences

“Fine.” Jinx rolls his eyes but his voice softens. “Remember when he spent three days recalibrating the security system at the mansion? He said the motion sensors were .02 seconds too slow. I thought he was being paranoid.”

“Until those sensors gave us the extra second we needed during the infiltration in Boulder,” Ryker completes the memory, his expression warming slightly.

“He’s always like that,” I say, taking Finn’s hand between mine. It’s cooler than it should be, but not cold. My thumbs trace the veins that haven’t been blackened by the formula, cataloging the patterns of him that remain unchanged. “Always thinking three steps ahead while the rest of us are still processing step one.”

“His mind is extraordinary,” Theo agrees. “But it’s more than that. It’s how he uses it. The first time I played piano for everyone, he calculated the exact acoustic properties of the room to determine optimal listening position.”

“And then insisted we all move to those precise spots,” Jinx adds with a snort.

“What you failed to mention,” Theo continues, “is that he took particular care to calculate where each of us would experience the music most fully based on our individual hearing preferences.”

“That sounds exactly like him,” I say, remembering how he would analyze everything but somehow make it feel like care rather than calculation. Each memory adds another piece to the puzzle of who Finn is beyond his analytical surface.

“Remember when he fell out of the tree trying to rescue that kitten?” Jinx’s unexpected contribution makes us all turn.

“What?” I blink, trying to imagine our methodical Finn doing something so impulsive.

“It was before you joined,” Jinx explains, a half-smile playing at his lips. “We were doing recon at the Westgate facility. This tiny orange kitten was stuck in a tree near the fence line. Making the most pathetic sounds you’ve ever heard.”

“Finn was concerned it would trigger the perimeter sensors,” Ryker says, but there’s fondness in his tone.

“That’s what he claimed,” Jinx agrees. “But he calculated like sixteen different approach vectors before climbing up there. He spent twenty minutes coaxing the thing to trust him. Got it down safely, then immediately slipped and fell six feet into a mud puddle.”

“While maintaining the kitten’s safety,” Theo adds. “He broke his wrist but kept the kitten elevated the entire time.”

“What happened to the cat?” I ask.

“Quinn has it,” Ryker answers. “Named it Algorithm.”

The image of stern, analytical Finn rescuing a kitten hits me right in the chest. I look down at his unconscious form, trying to piece together this new side of him.

“The first time we played chess,” I say, memories rising to the surface, “he was so confused by my opening moves. He kept trying to categorize my strategy, and I kept breaking the patterns.”

“That’s you all over, Glitch,” Jinx observes.

“He said I was ‘statistically improbable,’“ I continue, smiling at the memory. “Like it was the highest compliment he could give. Then he adapted his entire approach to accommodate my chaos. Not fighting it, just...integrating it.”

“That’s what makes him remarkable,” Theo says softly. “He doesn’t just analyze, he adapts. Incorporates new data into his worldview.”

“He once created a spreadsheet of my favorite weapons,” Jinx offers. “Categorized by ‘optimal chaos potential’ and ‘tactical efficiency.’ Color-coded. With footnotes.”

“Of course there were footnotes,” I laugh despite myself.

“He does the same with my medicinal herbs,” Theo adds. “Cross-referenced by efficacy, growing conditions, and seasonal availability.”

“He memorized your coffee order the first day,” Ryker says, looking at me. “Asked Jinx to verify it three times before making sure it was available at the safe house.”

The revelation catches me off-guard. “He did?”

“Said it was statistically probable that adequate caffeine would improve integration efficiency,” Ryker confirms, but his small smile suggests we all know the real reason.

We fall into comfortable silence, each lost in our own memories of Finn. Outside, rain begins to fall against the reinforced windows.

“If I were in his position,” Jinx says suddenly, breaking the quiet, “I’d want you all to have crazy hot sex nearby so I could at least enjoy it subconsciously.”

“Jinx!” Theo’s scandalized tone is undermined by the color rising in his cheeks.

“What?” Jinx shrugs, unrepentant. His eyes gleam with mischief. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. Pack intimacy, healing bonds, all that.”

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