Finnick chuckles, low and fond and a little dark. Still cradling the back of his head, he tilts his face down to brush against John's and kiss his temple. He's adorable. His sheepish wanting, his sweet pleading, it makes Finnick want to wrap him up and take good care of him.

"I don't want to stop, either. But how about I get us a room, hm?" He speaks softly into John's ear.

He then gives the bartender a look and jerks a thumb up toward the staircase. The tavernkeep knows Finnick and his antics by now, and knows what he means. An exchange of a key and some Bones later, Finnick takes John's hand and gets up, tugging him gently upstairs with an encouraging smile.