[ frank is as obnoxiously on time as always, carrying a light rucksack over one shoulder with his beanie and hood on up over his head equally typically. though the usable parts of the prison are soundproofed, he's careful to ensure his footsteps fall silently as he seeks her out. ]
[ she would be late but she ran out of reasons to be an hour before he was due to show up. Jess isn't the only one working, so she hands the keys off and goes to her place to get some shit together. whiskey, mostly. underwear and socks, rolled up. two extra shirts, one warm and one not. and then with the remaining room, more whiskey. the clothes are mostly there to pad the bottles. Jess heads back to the prison but tucks herself into a decrepit storefront off the sanded path, and announces herself by stepping into the dim light illuminating the particles below sparsely scattered, bare bulbs. ]
[ it's impossible to completely temper his smile when his gaze lights on her, taking a halting step forward. she doesn't know morse code or the sign language, so he doesn't bother with either, just nodding towards the exit. if she's ready, they should probably get a move on before he loses his nerve. ]
[ she's all nerves. he can have some of hers. part of Jess expected him not to show and now she doesn't know how much of her might have been hoping for it. she leads them off, a large breath streaming from her nose. she can hardly believe they're really leaving, shoulders tense as she expects him to come up with a last minute effort to talk or sign her into her senses. ]
[ he wasn't kidding, he's tired too. he slots in next to her closely, their shoulders brushing against each other. this feels right, somehow, even though it should feel cowardly. everyone needs to get away sometimes, right, like he told karen all that time ago? he's in this, he'll help her disappear. at least for a little while. ]
[ That's closer than she thought he'd feel like getting. even if things weren't exactly going badly when Bev cockblocked them (her), Jess knows Frank would have put up a protest before things got too good. could be that she's more his vacation than getting the Dodge out of hell, and, honestly, that would be great. it'd be his first time using her back.
Jess pulls her hands out of her pockets, but not her device. she puts them in front of her like she's watched more and more people do, the longer they stay here. she gleaned the basics from context clues and people watching but has been infrequently filling in the gaps with research, when she's sick of building or the other people who are in her building. ]
[ the sign surprises him, startling him out of his reverie. he would never use her, as much as she might want that. though she gives him the strength to do things he wouldn't be able to otherwise. like admit that he needs a break. he turns towards her as they walk, picking up the sandpath outside. ]
Look at you. [ he signs back, smiling at her efforts. ]
[ guh-od, if she knew it'd make him so happy, she would have taped her fingers together, she tells herself and seals the sentiment with a roll of her eyes ]
Ass [ thank god for all these trashmouth kids or she'd be unable to express herself properly ]
[ that gets a silent laugh, a jump of his shoulders as he looks down at his feet a moment. he has a habit of ruining a lot of things, he's sure she could list them even better than him. ]
Your idea to be stuck with me. [ he shrugs. he thinks if she really were on the fence she would have gone alone anyway. ]
[ Jess shrugs, like it isn't a big deal. if she'd gone on her own, he probably would have come after her anyway. he would have found out before long that she didn't tell anybody where or that she was going and he might take it as the suicide note by omission that it is. she would hate to finally divorce herself from this place and the monsters that live there, only to slip and crack her head open and find herself in the Reset Room, back where she started. and if she doesn't wake up again, Jess can't tell from where she's at if she really wants to die. she plans to figure that out once they get far enough, regardless of if she's going to do anything about it. ]
[ yeah he guesses it is his mistake. it's one he'll keep making though and if she hasn't figured that out she's the dumb one. he nods, allowing the conversation to lapse for the moment as they step off the path and into deeper woods. after a while he can't stand it anymore, her low opinion of herself. the way she constantly fights back against any kindness. of course, that pushback is 2000% hypocrisy, but that's the frank castle way in the end. he ends up pulling out his device in frustration, he'll never get out what he needs to with sign. ]
i've never regertted following you. not from day 2
[ she thought her senses are already keyed up, until she starts keenly listening to the silence they besmirch with the soles of their shoes. she isn't afraid of what's out there, she's afraid of going back to what she does know. but she doesn't regret leaving the knife behind: anything out here, she should be able to handle with her bare hands, or she would have read about it on the network. a callous on his skin scrapes his pocket when he pulls out his device, calling her attention to it before the screen lights up. she anticipates stopping for a piss or something, not... whatever that is. Her lips purse and she looks away, attention now split between thinking and listening.
he isn't telling her anything she doesn't know and it's not his faith in her that's frustrating, it's that it doesn't gel with everything else. the family man bullshit that's so important to him. telling him that would be a confrontation, not a conversation, and she doesn't have the energy to care about winning or losing. ]
I know [ she signs tersely, staring ahead. she knows like he feels: a whole hell of a lot and way too much. ]
[ she knows. she knows everything about him, this place. she's a fucking private eye. he meets her eyes with a narrowed gaze, shaking his head. he doesn't think she does know. she knows the facts, maybe, but not the rest. those are the details he deals in, after all.
but if she wants silence, that he can do. maybe it's preferable after everything they've been through. he drops his phone back into his jumpsuit pocket, moving his gaze to watch their surroundings instead. it's all familiar, but different because of the company mainly. this trip has a feeling of finality he doesn't like. ]
[ now her gestures are lazy, noncommittal. she doesn't particularly care to go to Paris -- city of love and all that tripe, and it's the first place they'd run into someone outside of Reims. probably from Reims, which is the worst part of the whole thing. she wouldn't mind seeing the ocean again but god knows how far that is or if she'd be able to stop herself from wading into it, the way she used to fantasize about as a teenager. she's not even that into the idea anymore. having died once fairly painlessly, drowning sounds the opposite of relaxing. ]
[ he shrugs, but moves into the lead anyway. he knows better than to take her to paris or anywhere else people frequent. maybe they don't eve have to go that far, just enough to forget about the city. somewhere that's just theirs. he turns towards her, expression clearing. ]
[ Jess nods, then digs up some irritation to feel about it. she's not comfortable around him, necessarily, but she's comfortable enough with how they work. just because something functions doesn't mean it's worthwhile.
Jess eyes up the size of his bag, guessing at what it contains. a tent, hopefully. or maybe he knows how to make a shelter, build a fire, tie knots good, all the various badge-earning skills and activities. she wonders if he'll call the day's journey once night falls or keep trudging forward until one of them collapses instead of admitting they're ready to submit to the rest they each sorely need. ]
[ with her go ahead, he splinters off to the right, there's a site not far they can set up camp since they don't have much daylight left as it is. he thinks about how childish this is, or at least immature. but when jessica jones says jump, he's already off the ledge before she can specify how high. it's always been that way and he doesn't know how to alter it now. leading had always come naturally to frank, but with her he has to keep reminding himself it's what she wants. it feels wrong to lead her anywhere, even if it's what she says she needs. to forget.
it's just past 90 minutes to the clearing and he doesn't try to start something up again until they get there. the sun is thinking about setting soon, and he gestures for her to stick close even though she'd done so the whole way here. frank has her help him find tent poles in the brush and then gestures where she should put them since her strength makes it easier to do so silently. then they're draping the canvas from his bag over the structure and it's his turn to use those sailor's knots she'd speculated on.
he steps back to view their work, making sure it's sound enough to get them out of the elements for a night. seems like it'll do fine and he moves inside the tent to set down the bedding he'd brought, not bothering to separate them in such a tight space -- especially since he knows she didn't bring her own bedroll. frank sits down to take a break, and to see if she'll make her way in. he's hungry, but too tired to do anything about it, and he knows for a fact they both prioritized whiskey over food in their packing. ]
[ she would start to feel winded a lot sooner if not for her superhuman stamina. she's not the type to walk for exercise or enjoyment. there was always somewhere to go or to be in New York, a point A and a point B, but in Reims she treks mostly from her home to the prison. her patrol routes have become routine and mundane to her. there are no new routes for her to take, only known ones to mix and match. the city has gotten familiar, made its way into her without offering jack in return. except the whiskey, that she keeps on drinking despite how sick it makes her of herself.
as her breathing gets heavier, she shifts more of her focus to monitoring it. before long she's absorbed in the dryness of her mouth, flexing her tongue and biting her cheeks and swallowing saliva instead of pulling to the side to fish a bottle out of her pack. she sighs privately with relief when his pace relents, then abides his instructions between sips of liquor she's extremely mindful not to slosh. even as they assemble the tent, Jess can't believe the almost cartoonishly barebones nature of it. she didn't think people really camped like this anymore, in this millennium.
when it's done, it's as quaint as her apartment back home. a real Eeyore mansion. Jess wipes her hands on the tarp, sizing the tent up as she stands in front of it -- pretty tight for two -- then up at the sky -- no sign of rain. good. but bad. either way, she can sleep outside if she wants to. she searches herself and doesn't determine a preference either way.
Jess crouches at the entrance, choosing to take out her device to illuminate the signs she makes with her hands. ]
[ he draws his knees up to his chest where he's perched on one side of the blanket and watches her as she comes into view. as ever she encompasses all of his attention wholly and immediately, his expression softening when she signs to him again. it feels like something just for him, even if that's ridiculous in a way he's aware of. she's probably as sick of the device as he is, is all, but the effort could never go unnoticed from someone who notices if she misses a button on her jumpsuit before she ever would.
rather than sign back, he simply holds up a pithy OK symbol at her expense. he's great, honestly, better than ever. after a moment, he gestures noncommittally for her to make her way inside the shoddy tent. if she wants to. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
though i could cheat and wait until we're a ways away
no subject
Do what you gotta do.
no subject
i'll see you soon.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Jess pulls her hands out of her pockets, but not her device. she puts them in front of her like she's watched more and more people do, the longer they stay here. she gleaned the basics from context clues and people watching but has been infrequently filling in the gaps with research, when she's sick of building or the other people who are in her building. ]
Learned little [ some ]
no subject
Look at you. [ he signs back, smiling at her efforts. ]
no subject
Ass [ thank god for all these trashmouth kids or she'd be unable to express herself properly ]
no subject
You like it. [ maybe a flirt, maybe not, as ever. he tips his head. ] I'm impressed.
no subject
Wait til we're gone to screw it. [ she doesn't know the word for "ruin" ]
no subject
Your idea to be stuck with me. [ he shrugs. he thinks if she really were on the fence she would have gone alone anyway. ]
no subject
Your mistake to come.
no subject
i've never regertted following you. not from day 2
no subject
he isn't telling her anything she doesn't know and it's not his faith in her that's frustrating, it's that it doesn't gel with everything else. the family man bullshit that's so important to him. telling him that would be a confrontation, not a conversation, and she doesn't have the energy to care about winning or losing. ]
I know [ she signs tersely, staring ahead. she knows like he feels: a whole hell of a lot and way too much. ]
no subject
but if she wants silence, that he can do. maybe it's preferable after everything they've been through. he drops his phone back into his jumpsuit pocket, moving his gaze to watch their surroundings instead. it's all familiar, but different because of the company mainly. this trip has a feeling of finality he doesn't like. ]
Where are we going?
no subject
[ now her gestures are lazy, noncommittal. she doesn't particularly care to go to Paris -- city of love and all that tripe, and it's the first place they'd run into someone outside of Reims. probably from Reims, which is the worst part of the whole thing. she wouldn't mind seeing the ocean again but god knows how far that is or if she'd be able to stop herself from wading into it, the way she used to fantasize about as a teenager. she's not even that into the idea anymore. having died once fairly painlessly, drowning sounds the opposite of relaxing. ]
no subject
[ he shrugs, but moves into the lead anyway. he knows better than to take her to paris or anywhere else people frequent. maybe they don't eve have to go that far, just enough to forget about the city. somewhere that's just theirs. he turns towards her, expression clearing. ]
You follow this time?
no subject
Jess eyes up the size of his bag, guessing at what it contains. a tent, hopefully. or maybe he knows how to make a shelter, build a fire, tie knots good, all the various badge-earning skills and activities. she wonders if he'll call the day's journey once night falls or keep trudging forward until one of them collapses instead of admitting they're ready to submit to the rest they each sorely need. ]
no subject
it's just past 90 minutes to the clearing and he doesn't try to start something up again until they get there. the sun is thinking about setting soon, and he gestures for her to stick close even though she'd done so the whole way here. frank has her help him find tent poles in the brush and then gestures where she should put them since her strength makes it easier to do so silently. then they're draping the canvas from his bag over the structure and it's his turn to use those sailor's knots she'd speculated on.
he steps back to view their work, making sure it's sound enough to get them out of the elements for a night. seems like it'll do fine and he moves inside the tent to set down the bedding he'd brought, not bothering to separate them in such a tight space -- especially since he knows she didn't bring her own bedroll. frank sits down to take a break, and to see if she'll make her way in. he's hungry, but too tired to do anything about it, and he knows for a fact they both prioritized whiskey over food in their packing. ]
no subject
as her breathing gets heavier, she shifts more of her focus to monitoring it. before long she's absorbed in the dryness of her mouth, flexing her tongue and biting her cheeks and swallowing saliva instead of pulling to the side to fish a bottle out of her pack. she sighs privately with relief when his pace relents, then abides his instructions between sips of liquor she's extremely mindful not to slosh. even as they assemble the tent, Jess can't believe the almost cartoonishly barebones nature of it. she didn't think people really camped like this anymore, in this millennium.
when it's done, it's as quaint as her apartment back home. a real Eeyore mansion. Jess wipes her hands on the tarp, sizing the tent up as she stands in front of it -- pretty tight for two -- then up at the sky -- no sign of rain. good. but bad. either way, she can sleep outside if she wants to. she searches herself and doesn't determine a preference either way.
Jess crouches at the entrance, choosing to take out her device to illuminate the signs she makes with her hands. ]
You good?
no subject
rather than sign back, he simply holds up a pithy OK symbol at her expense. he's great, honestly, better than ever. after a moment, he gestures noncommittally for her to make her way inside the shoddy tent. if she wants to. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)