[ the scent of stale whiskey and something uniquely jessica jones filters through to remind frank that he's here, in her place. that she's safe. though he wants to check on her, a part of him is scared that she isn't. that what he'll find in her room is exactly what he'd seen behind his eyelids. he stays there for a long time, and who could say how long? he holds his knees to his chest and just tries to breathe, watching the sun come up. does she want him to go before she's up and about? probably. he doesn't know if she has any clients visiting today but he knows a hulking marine on her couch isn't exactly inviting.
just as he's about to get up and make coffee himself -- because apparently he's stuck here; like some echoing limbo place -- he hears her. she's in the shower now and the sound calms him, knowing that dead women don't take showers even in his most delusional state. he stands and straps his knife on, pulling down his shirt over it and threads his belt back through its loops. he finds his boots by the door, creeping around silently though she must know he's still here?
after lacing his shoes he stares at the door, as if attempting to compel himself to open it. he stands there until he hears her pad out into the kitchen, the hair rasing on the back of his neck and arms. he can't leave without seeing her. not after--
frank does his best to make some noise so as not to creep up on her, which is easy enough now with his boots on. they clomp into the room ahead of his body, but he hangs in the doorway, needing to stop seeing his dream in an endless loop. he's distracted briefly by a water droplet, stubbornly tracking down the back of her leg. his throat goes dry and his gaze fixes on the back of her head. ] Hey.
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just as he's about to get up and make coffee himself -- because apparently he's stuck here; like some echoing limbo place -- he hears her. she's in the shower now and the sound calms him, knowing that dead women don't take showers even in his most delusional state. he stands and straps his knife on, pulling down his shirt over it and threads his belt back through its loops. he finds his boots by the door, creeping around silently though she must know he's still here?
after lacing his shoes he stares at the door, as if attempting to compel himself to open it. he stands there until he hears her pad out into the kitchen, the hair rasing on the back of his neck and arms. he can't leave without seeing her. not after--
frank does his best to make some noise so as not to creep up on her, which is easy enough now with his boots on. they clomp into the room ahead of his body, but he hangs in the doorway, needing to stop seeing his dream in an endless loop. he's distracted briefly by a water droplet, stubbornly tracking down the back of her leg. his throat goes dry and his gaze fixes on the back of her head. ] Hey.