[ he files the information away, it won't tack an extra minute on even he doesn't think so he doesn't bother editing his eta. the sound of her muffled cries get to him anyway, wrenching in someplace deep he usually keeps shut off. a part of frank castle reserved for private moments with david lieberman or group therapy at the va. he doesn't let other people get to him this way, or rather, he likes to pretend it isn't even possible. the truth is very different, especially faced with no other alternative than to accept that claire -- a person who usually holds it together for his benefit is breaking down; and she's chosen him to be her savior. ]
Shhh, it's okay. You're alright. Almost there... [ murmured again, almost muffled against the receiver. this is feeling more urgent with each street sign he passes, though rationally he knows she's safe. but there's nothing rational about this, is there? he's saving her from demons in her head by battling the ones in his. how poetic. ]
[ frank's diesel truck roars up onto her road at long last, and he spies her apartment building from across it. he parks carelessly, not really worrying about a ticket this late/early or you know, in general at all. abandoning it, he walks around to the window she says is open and finds his way inside, knowing he has to be quick or her neighbors might actually think he's an intruder. that's easy enough -- they're old windows and he's nothing if not efficient. he slips the screen up silently so he can get his hand under the ledge and push up. then he's scaling the short distance until he can climb inside, setting down the screen and then the window and latching it behind him all with... 19 seconds to go. ]
Claire? It's me. [ obviously. he's hanging up and pocketing his phone before drawing his knife instead. his combat boots telegraph his every movement as he moves through every room, leaving no closet or cupboard unturned. every inch of her place is catalogued and cleared before he makes his way into her room and clears the closet and bathroom first before cautiously returning his kabar to its rightful place at his side. he stands by her bed, unsure if he should reach out, and incapable of it besides. ] Cleared. [ every square inch, no bad guys in sight. well, except one. ]
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Shhh, it's okay. You're alright. Almost there... [ murmured again, almost muffled against the receiver. this is feeling more urgent with each street sign he passes, though rationally he knows she's safe. but there's nothing rational about this, is there? he's saving her from demons in her head by battling the ones in his. how poetic. ]
[ frank's diesel truck roars up onto her road at long last, and he spies her apartment building from across it. he parks carelessly, not really worrying about a ticket this late/early or you know, in general at all. abandoning it, he walks around to the window she says is open and finds his way inside, knowing he has to be quick or her neighbors might actually think he's an intruder. that's easy enough -- they're old windows and he's nothing if not efficient. he slips the screen up silently so he can get his hand under the ledge and push up. then he's scaling the short distance until he can climb inside, setting down the screen and then the window and latching it behind him all with... 19 seconds to go. ]
Claire? It's me. [ obviously. he's hanging up and pocketing his phone before drawing his knife instead. his combat boots telegraph his every movement as he moves through every room, leaving no closet or cupboard unturned. every inch of her place is catalogued and cleared before he makes his way into her room and clears the closet and bathroom first before cautiously returning his kabar to its rightful place at his side. he stands by her bed, unsure if he should reach out, and incapable of it besides. ] Cleared. [ every square inch, no bad guys in sight. well, except one. ]