Saturday
4:56 A.M.

Finch didn't expect to be sitting in his neighbor's bathroom, shirtless. The girl in front of him was Lark Ferris, the mysterious girl who woke up at 4 in the morning every day since she moved in. He always wondered who she was and now, he was sitting in her bathroom, slightly self conscious with his abdomen that surely ruined her dreams of hard rock abs.

He realized Lark Ferris wasn't what he thought her to be. Whenever he hopped her balcony and spied on her, she would always sit motionless on the couch, sipping her coffee. But when he accidentally broke her plant pot, Lark went from peaceful to crazy mamba jamba in a second.

"Why are you staring?" Lark's soft voice snapped him out of his trance. He hadn't noticed that he was staring right at her the whole time.

"Nothing," Finch mumbled, hissing when Lark went over his scratches with rubbing alcohol.

"I don't really believe your reason, yet I'm still helping you," Lark broke the silence before it fell between them. Finch pressed his lips together. He really didn't want to tell her why he was spying.

"I'm serious, and you didn't have to help me," He replied, hoping she'd believe his fib. He really needed her help and she looked like a person who knew their way around cat scratches.

Lark looked up at him, a small crease appeared in between her eyebrows. Her glare was intimidating Finch, but he wouldn't let her know that over his dead body. Who knew blue eyes could be so. . . Undescribable?

"Okay," She grinned. Finch let out a breath.

"I am sorry for freaking you out though."

"It's fine," She smiled at him, "I'm sorry for releasing Buggers on you."

Finch smiled back, hoping he didn't look bad when he did. Lark seemed a lot softer than he thought she would be. Up close and not in the shadows, Lark looked nothing but friendly and sweet. Probably it was the bangs and the tumbleweed hanging loosely on top of her head that completed the "I look like a Disney princess" look.

"There, you're done," Lark backed off, picking up the cottonballs disposed on the floor. Finch could only smile back sheepishly while his skin ached.

"You know, next time, we can have coffee instead of engaging war," She laughed a merry sound that reminded him of the birds that flew near his window every day.

Finch smiled, "Sounds good."