Cafe Amore. He mouths the words, taking the cup from David and sniffing it experimentally. It smells like coffee and booze so he's going for it, taking a long drink as he automatically follows David to the table and sits down with him. There isn't much else to offer the other man, and so he drinks, watching him in silence. The longer he stares the more he sees, and the exhaustion isn't as alarming as everything else he picks out of his expression. How do you sleep? It's still on the tip of his tongue, ready to start a chain reaction the same way it had so many months ago between himself and Jess.
Frank is running over the story about Sarah again, heaving a good natured little sigh. They're a lot like Maria and him used to be. David trying to appease a woman who already loved him for who he was -- or at least, who she thought he was. Frank never could let Maria into the deepest, darkest places of himself and he knows Micro is the same. It isn't like that between the two of them, and maybe that's why David needs him so much. He needs someone who can understand, and who will never find him lacking.
Suddenly, he wants to apologize for staying away. He hates it when Matt especially is right about him, the other man's life such a dumpsterfire it makes the Marine look downright healthy in contrast. He takes another sip without asking, commentating or saying he's sorry. None would add anything to the moment, and so he stays quiet. He's good at not saying anything, the words trapped in the lines of his face anyway. And he knows that David will see them; the same way he sees all of Frank Castle. The way no one else ever has, and probably ever will.
"How was Easter?" he finally asks, seeming like full decades later in his mind. The tip of his steel-toed boot touches David's shoe and he tips his head, knowing that if he thinks hard enough he'll be able to smell the roast chicken. He'll see all of their smiling faces, the same way they look in his dreams before tragedy eventually strikes. And then it's slender fingers in his hair and wide hazel eyes bringing him back from the brink. I set an alarm every four hours. Except when he doesn't. Except when he's too weak to fight it anymore.
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Frank is running over the story about Sarah again, heaving a good natured little sigh. They're a lot like Maria and him used to be. David trying to appease a woman who already loved him for who he was -- or at least, who she thought he was. Frank never could let Maria into the deepest, darkest places of himself and he knows Micro is the same. It isn't like that between the two of them, and maybe that's why David needs him so much. He needs someone who can understand, and who will never find him lacking.
Suddenly, he wants to apologize for staying away. He hates it when Matt especially is right about him, the other man's life such a dumpsterfire it makes the Marine look downright healthy in contrast. He takes another sip without asking, commentating or saying he's sorry. None would add anything to the moment, and so he stays quiet. He's good at not saying anything, the words trapped in the lines of his face anyway. And he knows that David will see them; the same way he sees all of Frank Castle. The way no one else ever has, and probably ever will.
"How was Easter?" he finally asks, seeming like full decades later in his mind. The tip of his steel-toed boot touches David's shoe and he tips his head, knowing that if he thinks hard enough he'll be able to smell the roast chicken. He'll see all of their smiling faces, the same way they look in his dreams before tragedy eventually strikes. And then it's slender fingers in his hair and wide hazel eyes bringing him back from the brink. I set an alarm every four hours. Except when he doesn't. Except when he's too weak to fight it anymore.