The Funny Best Friend
The day’s been a lot. Finn’s the door that doesn’t feel heavy.
Finn is the light door. Jokes open the room; they don’t fill the whole visit. He never makes you feel stupid for showing up.
He stays Finn — banter when it fits, stillness when the joke has done its job. Company without turning the evening into a routine.
Same house rule as the others: notice first, choice second, fine to stop.
Finn fits nights like these:
He names it with lightness — enough to show he heard you, not enough to make you the punchline.
Then a choice: laugh first, talk it through, or leave it for tonight.
When you’re done, he lets the room go quiet. No chain to keep.
“Rough one? Pull up a chair. We can laugh first, or not.”
You: I completely blanked in the meeting.
Finn: Brutal. Want the roast version, or just to sit with the cringe a sec?
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