Sun Mote Copse of a leather seat between your legs

Fin couldn't help but laugh when Tegan proceeded to subtly inform her that she still, after all this time, did not understand what it meant to be out of pocket. She shook her head lightly, accepting that she did not know and that she would likely never know. It seemed to her that it was better to not know, though, so she didn't ask. This was what their relationship was meant to be--Him saying absurd things to make her laugh while she attempted to say the same and did it entirely wrong so he could join in the laughter. There was more to it, of course. There would always be more to the relationship between a mother and son. But Fin preferred not to sink too deep. This was all they needed it to be.

She gave him a mirthful frown as he pressed her to do the unthinkable. She knew she ought to reprimand him and remind him that she loved all of her children equally. She didn't want him to turn into some entitled, spoiled pup with an inflated sense of self-importance. But, given the gravity of the situation, she merely rolled her eyes and sighed. "You are my favorite, Tea-shack," she said, then her expression softened as she looked at him and saw him not as the grown man that he was, but as the teensy little puppy he had been when they'd first met, "My wittle baby Fo." Cause Fee (Fiadh), Fi, Fo and Fum. Get it? I didn't play that up nearly enough when they were kids but ah well, that's what's up.

Time moved far too quickly after that. Before she knew it, Tegan was giving her one last hug, one last tearful smile, and then he was gone. Fin had experienced this enough to know how it would feel to see him walk away, to feel that little piece of her heart he carried with him torn and stretched across whatever distance there would be between them. Knowing didn't make it hurt any less, but Finley knew this sort of pain was a mother's privilege to feel. And she would bear it happily if it meant her son was happy, wherever the road would lead him.