"I've bundled up in haystacks and chicken coops. I think a bed's a mighty fine luxury." Finn double-stepped the stairs in suit of Eli, and with a pair of long legs it didn't take hurrying to get to the top any slower than his new guardian. He stood at the doorway of the room offered, top bare and his trousers close to the same fate with how he'd already started on their too buttons, only to be reprimanded by the flighty priest for something he wasn't entirely sure.  Surely it wasn't anything Eli hadn't seen before! He wasn't a lady of demure, clearly! But he may as well be with how he scurried away at the sight. All red in the face, tight lipped and dangerously funny to Finn. Still, he couldn't be bothered to mock the one of many scoldings to come, too exhausted from his adventures to really mind the man or his manners. 

Finn them pivoted with a patronizing grin, lips pursed at an awkward upturn and his washed-out brows pinching his speckled forehead. "And not tyin' me up? Not even to the bedrail?" He tsk'd, loudly, a reprimanding click of his tongue sounding before he allowed himself into the room and already attempting to shed what was left of his low ridden pants. Everything on his person had been robbed from him; his gun, his blade and the few dollars he kept stashed away in one of his boots were all stripped away. Granted, the money hasn't exactly been earned in the traditional sense, but money was money and it was a few bucks above nothing. So, there really wasn't all that much to him now, and with a defeated huff the redhead collapsed onto the modest bed, back-first like a corpse to a coffin. "Dunno if that's just bein' polite, stupid, or brave. No offense." Then, an unexpected yawn rolled through him, his burning eyelids made peace by closing finally. Sleepily, he mumbled the last Words of goodnight: "When I'm gone away reali far, I'll be sure to talk 'bout you."

And quicker than a candle gone cold in  a windstorm, Finn was out like the same flame. His body slumped happily into the thick padding of the bed and he hadn't even managed to draw up his feet before dozing in the same position as he first laid. Dreams were seldom if at all, nothing but an oblivion of black and the promise of a restful sleep. No thoughts whatsoever- no gallows, no Judge or jury. Not even the little priest stationed in the next room over. Nothing but black.