Finn wasn't born with those magnificent, perpetual expressions of sheer, unadulterated astonishment—he was chosen. Sketched during a particularly boring corporate budgeting meeting on the back of a sticky note, Finn quickly realized that his two-dimensional water bowl offered zero protection from the terrifying realities of the desk world.

To cope with the existential dread of being perpetually stuck next to a stapler, Finn scavenged a pair of ill-fitting, googly eyes from a rogue craft box. Now, his eyes drift in completely opposite directions at the slightest vibration of a passing keyboard, capturing his permanent state of shock that he hasn't been recycled yet. He doesn’t swim so much as he glues himself to surfaces and stares directly into your soul.