Eli held the Bible like it were his child. Finn wasn't sure whether or not to feel unsettled by it or find it strangely endearing. He settled on a mix of the two, if at all possible, pulling a strange face that he wasn't sure how to place. It was short lived, the exchange came and went before Eli shot him a strained look of his own. Was it something he'd said? Likely. Finn had some distasteful thoughts that escaped him as often as they'd enter his mind. Filtering his words was a burden, for people like Eli who lived reserved lives devoted to Jesus or professional men and their families. And, if it wasn't obvious already, Finn wasn't like most men. He had no family of his own, and if he did have a child out there, somewhere, he didn't suppose he'd be welcome. 

“Done deal, then.” Finn tipped his head in agreement, then rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, sinking as comfortably as he could in his seat. His two legs were long and gangly in front of him, stretched out and relaxed. Both arms were crossed over his stomach, fingers fiddling by cracking or picking beneath his nails. Despite an incredible appetite when presented to him, he didn't have too much meat on him, relying on lean muscle for such a lanky frame. At the mention of his family, he could practically hear his aunt going on and griping at him. 'If you're going to eat so much, you might as well bulk up and help around here!' her voice rang through his mind and erupted a sudden laugh out of him before sobering up. He got plenty of exercise as it was on the run, from being chased and swung at and swinging his fists back in return. But that wasn't the sort of activity or line of work he supposed she'd approve of. 

“Don't have any babies 'n if I do I don't know 'bout 'e,. I got two sisters, Nora 'n Lizzie. Nora's gotta be all grown by now, 'n I bet Lizzie's still cute as a button. Shit, she knew how to laugh.” He'd seen them a number of years ago in their old family home, a tiny place on the outskirts and in the dusty land of the Kansas countryside. “Spooked Lizzie half to death when she saw me last. I came back lookin' for some of my things 'n she looks like I was gonna come after her with that scream of hers.” And for a moment, between his incessant grinning, something pinched downward at his lips if only for a brief second. It didn't faze him much, but something about the thought had a right to bother him. He made a brief return some years back and it had been the last visit since earning a warrant for his arrest. Word traveled fast, and it was not difficult to believe that the rowdy Finnegan Foster boy, who took a fondness to pick-pocketing and picking fights and skilled himself with the family gun was the very Finn Casey that harassed, looted and shot up towns following his disappearance. If there was a God above, he surely scorned his family as punishment. “Momma's gotta live with them still on account'a my Pa leavin'. Don't remember him much anyways... Lived with my Aunt for a few years once I started sproutin' up, she took care of me nicely. Suppose priests don't just grow out of the ground. What two sorta folks danced together and made you?"