Finn Rogers was tired, mildly hungover, feeling light-headed, and about half way through his afternoon shift. At the moment he wanted to be anywhere but here, and his main motivation for staying was the money he would be earning, and what he could potentially do with it when he got paid.
The shop was empty, for now, and Finnian was sat on a stool, sorting through a box of trinkets, trying to spot anything that might be worth something, all while having to keep his wits about him and not accidentally get cursed. Not the ideal job for someone who ideally needed to be sleeping, as he was functioning on about three hours of broken sleep and a lot of caffeine.
At least he hadn't been rushed off his feet today, and hadn't had to provide any happy smiley customer service. And luckily he was trusted to man the shop alone for a while, so less people to notice the bags under his eyes. Silver lining, and all that.