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[oorah]

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it's her legal name ok

[oorah]

i kind of like when you're mean anyway

[ oops ]

[shittier]

good, because i don't have a whole lot else going for me

[oorah]

i would disagree with you but you're kind of scary when you want to be.

[ shock surprise another thing he likes ]

[shittier]

going by that logic there were a lot of moments i could have hit you tonight and i didn't, so

i think i deserve a little more credit than that

[oorah]

in your defense there's not a lot of open real estate left. [ to hit, that is. ]

for what it's worth. i do. give you credit.

[ probably nothing, right? she said she didn't care, but he's not sure he believes that either. ]

[shittier]

yeah? for what, exactly?

[oorah]

for doing shit no one else will.

[shittier]

[ sorry, she can't resist this one. ]

you mean like you

[oorah]

you're not like me.

you wish you were like me

[ one day someone will explain how flirting works to frank castle and his reality as he knows it will collapse in on itself like a house of cards. ]

[shittier]

[ she can't tell you how mad she is that this joke went over his head. ]

no

goddammit frank

i meant doing you

sex, you idiot

[oorah]

[ oh... :( well now he's laughing at least. ]

so we're doing this?

[ sound less enthused about it, loser. ]

[shittier]

please tell me

because i've been trying to get that answer out of you all night

[oorah]

oh.

[ he's not used to this ball being in his court!!!! god. ]

unless you want to wait until i'm not one big bruise.

[ but he wants to see her tonight... whatever that means. he sends a third message quickly. ]

do you want to come over?

[shittier]

i do

[ and because he's all ready a bruised banana... ]

but i also don't want to accidentally kill you

[oorah]

no one's ever managed it on purpose so i think we're safe

[ this is a hilarious joke, obviously. have an address of his shitty apartment. it's like maybe 20 blocks from her. ]

[shittier]

what a weird turn of events

[ she honestly didn't think she'd see him again for awhile, but here she is, scrambling around her place tripping over herself as she puts on her boots while still standing. ]

[oorah]

i wish i could say that was the first time a woman has said that to me.

[shittier]

somehow im not surprised
omw

[oorah]

OK

[ what is he doing?? time to panic-clean and brew coffee like an actual crazy person. ]

[shittier]

traffic is ok for once

shouldn't be too long

[ maybe a little longer than she anticipates. she asked the cab driver to stop off real quick, so now shes currently brown bagging it on the way. ]

[oorah]

no rush. i'm not going anywhere.

[ he is freaking tf out but that's another matter entirely. ]

[shittier]

thats what im banking on

[ god, there was so much build up behind this now that she... wait, was she nervous? ]

[oorah]

[ he doesn't respond to that, though he has something drafted about reliability before he decides against it. god, he's a loser. the coffee maker beeps and he sets his phone down to be forgotten in the living room as he moves into the tiny kitchen to pour himself a cup and try to calm down. (frank, coffee doesn't work that way.) okay but like, shut up. he turns on the tv to some old movie marathon and doesn't pay attention to it — physically can't. he already feels like he's going to vibrate out of his skin. frank paces his two-step hallway and slams coffee while he waits for her. this is normal and totally fine. obviously. ]

[shittier]

[ his lack of response is definitely noted, and she tries not to think too much about it on the way there, dealing with it the best way she knew how.

when she finally arrives, she throws the now empty bottle (it was a small one, don't judge her) into a nearby trash can and makes her way into the poorly maintained building. it didn't take long to find his room, but she stands outside of his door for a bit, suddenly feeling unsure of herself.

despite it all, she eventually starts knocking on the door, unsure of what to expect. ]

[oorah]

[ he sets down his coffee and goes to answer the door after nearly jumping out of his skin and shattering the mug. there are a few telltale splatters of coffee on the old wood floor that he doesn't seem to notice, his boots landing with noisy, heavy steps as he moves to unlatch it and let her in. he's dressed simply in a navy henley, rolled up to his elbows to reveal that: in fact yes, the bruises and cuts do just keep going and going, and a pair of lightwash jeans with a thick belt to hold them up (not that it seems like they need it the assistance, honestly.) frank's eyes scan her face as he licks at his torn-up lips before remembering himself and stepping aside so she can come in. ] Hey. [ it's belated but warm enough, he can smell the whiskey on her, but that isn't so surprising. his whole apartment smells like coffee or she'd be able to tell how strongly he reeked of that himself. and as for the space itself: there aren't many amenities or personal touches. breakfast at tiffany's is playing at low volume on an old-school tv set and there's a guitar propped up against the wall under the window. the kitchen is the only room that seems lived in, and his tiny alcove of a bedroom doesn't even have a door on it, though the bed is freshly made should she walk past. ] Want a drink? [ even if she clearly didn't need one... ]