He is studying her for any reaction, positive or otherwise, but ends up settling into a comfortable staring contest by the end.
"If I told you that, I'd have to kill you," he jokes lamely as a waitress finally takes pity on them and approaches with a carafe of coffee and her best resting bitch face. Frank is pretty sure she practices. He thanks her with a bright smile, the ancient menus she deposits on the table are as generic as they come and won't help Jess in her pursuit of knowledge in this instance. He takes a sip of his black coffee like it's the greatest thing he's ever tasted though it's burnt yet somehow not even hot - without ever taking his eyes off of her.
The waitress's unflappable disinclination toward hospitality positively captures Jess's heart. Her inert "thanks" glances right off her and that's all it's meant to do. Once she's fulfilled her obligations, she walks away, somehow making it feel like they're the ones leaving her alone. God damn, where was this place when Jess was in her deadend job phase? She could have lasted a while, if that's the service they shoot for. Not shade.
Her eyes swing from her back to Frank as she sips some room into her mug. "Wow," she muses judgmentally as she pulls out a flask and tops her coffee off with whiskey. "You definitely have a type."
It actually startles a laugh out of him and he ducks his head over his coffee to contain it before looking back over at her with mirth sparkling through his gaze. What an idiot.
"I can tell you like it too," he points out teasingly, not sure if he's trying to goad her into denying it, but he thinks he likes when she gets indignant. He finishes off his dumb, smug statement with a canine head-tilt before slurping down more awful, burnt coffee that's still somehow too hot just to sip.
Edited (one letter edit i know you missed me) 2022-02-09 23:29 (UTC)
Her glare glints, hardened but allowing a light through nonetheless. Damn feedback loop. The corners of her mouth take on a tautness as remaining expressionless now takes effort. He's goading her and she's allowing it. Because it's good kindling for a quickie, undeniably. Because her mornings, when she's awake for them, are all one dull blur lately, and this is something different. Interesting. That's as much as she'll knowingly refuse to admit. Calling it fun is just over the line.
"I always figured I didn't have the personality for waitressing." She lifts her mug, swirling it carefully. "Turns out I was just looking in the wrong places." The coffee and whiskey are barely mixed when she has a drink. It's awful and perfect and she sighs as she swallows.
Frank watches her with his own lips twitching, and though he's less concerned about acting goofy she's making it almost impossible not to fall in love on the spot. And that's definitely something he doesn't need to do. That sobering thought slowly widdles away his mirth even as he considers her point, trying to picture her working in this very diner.
"Not a chance," he comes down on, realizing just how ridiculous it is, Jessica Jones working as a mindless automaton among the rest. "You'd get bored, wouldn't you?" Get involved, more like. He narrows his eyes as he tries not to draw parallels between them.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"If I told you that, I'd have to kill you," he jokes lamely as a waitress finally takes pity on them and approaches with a carafe of coffee and her best resting bitch face. Frank is pretty sure she practices. He thanks her with a bright smile, the ancient menus she deposits on the table are as generic as they come and won't help Jess in her pursuit of knowledge in this instance. He takes a sip of his black coffee like it's the greatest thing he's ever tasted though it's burnt yet somehow not even hot - without ever taking his eyes off of her.
no subject
Her eyes swing from her back to Frank as she sips some room into her mug. "Wow," she muses judgmentally as she pulls out a flask and tops her coffee off with whiskey. "You definitely have a type."
no subject
"I can tell you like it too," he points out teasingly, not sure if he's trying to goad her into denying it, but he thinks he likes when she gets indignant. He finishes off his dumb, smug statement with a canine head-tilt before slurping down more awful, burnt coffee that's still somehow too hot just to sip.
no subject
"I always figured I didn't have the personality for waitressing." She lifts her mug, swirling it carefully. "Turns out I was just looking in the wrong places." The coffee and whiskey are barely mixed when she has a drink. It's awful and perfect and she sighs as she swallows.
no subject
"Not a chance," he comes down on, realizing just how ridiculous it is, Jessica Jones working as a mindless automaton among the rest. "You'd get bored, wouldn't you?" Get involved, more like. He narrows his eyes as he tries not to draw parallels between them.