[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
[ 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... ]
[ she says it in a tone that sounds a little confused, like somehow she ended up at the wrong door.
that unsure feeling only intensifies as she steps into room, the smell of the fresh brewed coffee reminding her of a diner. not really... knowing where to position herself or where to go, she just kind of stands next to the door after she walks in, unable to help her gaze being drawn into his damaged arms all the way back up to his face. ]
You look... [ she looks away for a second, before moving her shoulders up, hands shoved in her pockets.. ] Well, the same. [ maybe worse, if she felt like being brutally honest right now. but with her feeling a little out of place, she decides to keep that comment to herself. besides, it's not like it ruins any attraction she has for him.
when he offers her the coffee, she holds up her pocketed hand. ]
Uh, no. Thanks.
[ suddenly she's distracted by what's on his TV, taking a few steps forward past him to bring herself a little closer. ]
I didn't take you as an admirer of the classics. [ he might not even be watching it, he probably has it on for background noise, but... still. interesting choice to leave it on. ] You're always keeping me on my toes.
[ he snorts at that, knowing the yellowing bruises are a ghastly sight. but she'd still come here, so...? no, he really doesn't know what's going to happen. he's not sure how these things usually go. ]
I, uh. Could take your coat. [ it's not that warm inside the space, though the forced hot air at the corners of the room are working overtime. still, he holds out a hand, fingers brushing against her sleeve. even through that tiny point of contact, she'll be able to feel how hot he runs, like an iron striking through her clothes. her comment about the hepburn scene playing out behind him gets another laugh and he shakes his head. ] Told you I was an old-fashioned kinda guy, you know. If you want, I can shut it off.
[ she wants to be snarky, give him some shit about chivalry when he asks for her coat, but instead she simply removes it and gives it to his waiting hand. it's always a battle to resist the urge to openly oppose and resist someone who's just trying to do something nice for her. their fingers brush briefly in between exchange and despite how warm he is, she feels cool, but. that's probably just from coming from outside.
she's wearing her trademark grey tank top (does she own anything but?) with her jeans, so. she didn't exactly dress up to impress or anything, but he probably wouldn't like if she did, anyway. ]
I'm slowly beginning to learn that. [ she talks to him as she takes a few more steps forward, seemingly to get a better look at the TV, but her eyes can't help but glance up and around the room. rather than answer his question about the movie, her conversation is instead about what she's currently observing. ] You live just about as great as I do, I see. That part doesn't surprise me, though. [ they both don't need much. just a bed and four walls. ]
[ frank just nods, hanging her coat on the hook by the door before locking it behind her and lightly trailing her steps. he picks up his coffee cup and takes a sip even though it's lukewarm by now, glancing around at his barren space. there's a ham radio out on the counter in the kitchen and a vase of flowers on the table. they look fresh-ish, but obviously weren't purchased in the days they'd been speaking, white roses and pink peonies among the bouquet. ]
Shitbags live like shitbags, who knew?
[ he takes another sip to try and calm his nerves, but it only makes him visibly more twitchy. and he slips by her to dump the cup into the sink before he can be tempted to polish it off. ]
I don't know. You have flowers, I think that might make you a little overqualified for my kind of living.
[ she smirks at him and keeps her eyes focused on him, just for a little.
after her head turns back towards the TV she can hear him his footsteps lead him into the kitchen but doesn't really pay attention to what he's doing. she tries to let the picture distract her, but her brain can't really focus on it. nerves, or something. she's out of her element, these things are usually easy but she's learned or... is learning that frank is anything but. ]
How you feeling? [ oh, uh. not about the sex or about their current situation. hurry, jessica. quickly follow up. ] Your face, I mean. And the rest of your body. [ stop talking about his appearance. ] I guess mentally, too. [ mentally?? ] You know what, you look like shit, I can take a hint from that.
[ he tips his head to concede her point, shutting off the coffee maker on his way back out to her so it doesn't burn. his eyes trace the delicate bones around her collar, thinking about how out of joint her appearance is with her strength. strength he knows she has but has never seen for himself, and he swallows, catching up to her question late as his eyes drift over her shoulder to audrey's.
before he can open his mouth to answer, she's going on, and his eyes narrow as he tries to figure out what she's after. if she's realizing frank isn't easy, he's realizing jessica jones isn't easy to read, or figure out. it might be what he likes the most about her. ]
I've been better. [ he confirms, taking another step towards her stiltedly. he wants to be smooth right now, but that's not who he is. sometimes he can crack a joke at the right time, but he's never going to be good at flirting or... whatever this is. she's asking how he is... mentally? and he shrugs, looking a little helpless despite himself. ] I'm a little mixed up, you know.
[ frank bites into his lips and tries to ignore how fast his heart is pounding. can she hear it? he feels like she ought to be able to. ]
Probably just from getting hit too many times, right?
[ her eyes can't help but give him the once over as he steps over to her and she stands there still, unsure of how to respond to that or what to make of it... of him. ]
You don't even look like you should be standing. [ let alone making booty calls. ] You're normal, at least physically. You don't have any powers and... Here you are. [ she pauses, looking at him. ] You don't need any. [ you're talking to a girl who finds it hard to get out of bed after a long night of drinking, so. all this is pretty amazing to her. ]
I don't know if that makes you the worlds most resilient man or the worlds most stubborn man.
[ the up-and-down has him ducking his head, though she wouldn't be able to tell if his cheeks were any redder through all the damage they've sustained. they certainly feel hot. frank huffs out an ugly, dry laugh, but it's clear his bemusement is sincere anyway. ]
Little of both, you think? [ his eyes climb back up to meet hers and he grins a little riotously as he licks over his lips again. ] Maybe that is my superpower, yeah? I always get back up.
[ he used to think it was a curse... now he's not so sure. ]
[ it's a strange shift of the tone in their conversation, vastly different than the slew of happy chatter and music coming from the TV behind her. she stares at him a little more intently now, focusing on the subtle movements his face makes. on the outside it seems like a simple question, but she knows how complicated these things can be. honestly, she just wants to understand him a little better, figure out if the only reason why he's still going is because he hasn't been taken out yet, or if he actually feels like he's fulfilling a purpose. ]
[ his heart hammers as he meets her suddenly intense gaze, his own shining wetly, perhaps tellingly. how many times had he thought he was dead? had welcomed it, even? but now... things are different, aren't they? ]
Yeah. [ it starts out as a soft croak but then he's answering her with conviction, eyes still soft so she can pick out his sincerity in their depths. ]Yeah, I care. Of course, I care. Don't you?
[ it almost feels like intimidation, the way she stares at him, like she does other people when she's trying to figure them out though. turn it around on her, start to ask her the big questions, though, and watch how quickly her gaze diverts away. ]
I don't know. [ it's indifferent, but it's honest. ] Just being alive... My whole existence has killed and ruined so many peoples lives. Every time I try to do the right thing... [ well, she carries her eyes back up to his because he knows, that much she does understand about him. ] I should be dead, I should have died in the car crash that killed the rest of my family. But I'm here, so. I just keep going until I don't have to anymore.
[ his heart goes out to her in an instant, forgetting about his circumstances in light of hers. survivor's guilt, it's a very real thing. he'd carried it for a long time, but it didn't do anyone any good in the end — it certainly couldn't bring them back. impulsively, a hand comes up, brushing some hair off her face. he rolls his lower lip into his mouth and frowns, wishing he had the answers for her. but it's not like he has any for himself, so how could he? ]
I guess that's why I do it, too. You can't bring them back, but you can live. That's all either of us can do. [ feels fucking lame in the end, but that's all he's got, really. lame platitudes and dumb jokes. ]
[ her brows lower somewhat when he touches her, not because she doesn't like it but because it makes her feel like she immediately needed to throw her guard up. if this were a simple hook up she wouldn't think anything of it. she knew there would be similarities there which was the whole reason why she picked him out; she could use him and he her and there would be no questions or ties. it would be... should be easy, right? just two pieces of shit who occasionally need a body to lay up against.
but she was realizing their similarities weren't just there for her to use and take advantage of. it was starting to make an emotional connection between them, and feelings that weren't just... fleeting, intense feelings of passion. it's something she didn't expect to and doesn't want to have to deal with. ]
I shouldn't be here. [ she shouldn't, but just like how they both live, here she is. ]
[ he drops his hand like she burned him, rubbing his fingers together where they rest against his side. frank would never try to keep her anywhere she didn't want to be, but she doesn't turn away or start leaving so he frowns again, trying to get a grip on what's happening. ]
You don't have to go. [ he says then immediately isn't sure why he said it, biting down on his lip and tasting blood, but he can ignore that for at least a few minutes. he assumes they're not sleeping together because of something he said, or maybe what she did. he points ahead to the screen suddenly. ] We could... finish the movie?
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[ this is a hilarious joke, obviously. have an address of his shitty apartment. it's like maybe 20 blocks from her. ]
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[ 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. ]
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omw
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[ what is he doing?? time to panic-clean and brew coffee like an actual crazy person. ]
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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. ]
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[ he is freaking tf out but that's another matter entirely. ]
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[ god, there was so much build up behind this now that she... wait, was she nervous? ]
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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. ]
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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... ]
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[ she says it in a tone that sounds a little confused, like somehow she ended up at the wrong door.
that unsure feeling only intensifies as she steps into room, the smell of the fresh brewed coffee reminding her of a diner. not really... knowing where to position herself or where to go, she just kind of stands next to the door after she walks in, unable to help her gaze being drawn into his damaged arms all the way back up to his face. ]
You look... [ she looks away for a second, before moving her shoulders up, hands shoved in her pockets.. ] Well, the same. [ maybe worse, if she felt like being brutally honest right now. but with her feeling a little out of place, she decides to keep that comment to herself. besides, it's not like it ruins any attraction she has for him.
when he offers her the coffee, she holds up her pocketed hand. ]
Uh, no. Thanks.
[ suddenly she's distracted by what's on his TV, taking a few steps forward past him to bring herself a little closer. ]
I didn't take you as an admirer of the classics. [ he might not even be watching it, he probably has it on for background noise, but... still. interesting choice to leave it on. ] You're always keeping me on my toes.
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I, uh. Could take your coat. [ it's not that warm inside the space, though the forced hot air at the corners of the room are working overtime. still, he holds out a hand, fingers brushing against her sleeve. even through that tiny point of contact, she'll be able to feel how hot he runs, like an iron striking through her clothes. her comment about the hepburn scene playing out behind him gets another laugh and he shakes his head. ] Told you I was an old-fashioned kinda guy, you know. If you want, I can shut it off.
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she's wearing her trademark grey tank top (does she own anything but?) with her jeans, so. she didn't exactly dress up to impress or anything, but he probably wouldn't like if she did, anyway. ]
I'm slowly beginning to learn that. [ she talks to him as she takes a few more steps forward, seemingly to get a better look at the TV, but her eyes can't help but glance up and around the room. rather than answer his question about the movie, her conversation is instead about what she's currently observing. ] You live just about as great as I do, I see. That part doesn't surprise me, though. [ they both don't need much. just a bed and four walls. ]
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Shitbags live like shitbags, who knew?
[ he takes another sip to try and calm his nerves, but it only makes him visibly more twitchy. and he slips by her to dump the cup into the sink before he can be tempted to polish it off. ]
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[ she smirks at him and keeps her eyes focused on him, just for a little.
after her head turns back towards the TV she can hear him his footsteps lead him into the kitchen but doesn't really pay attention to what he's doing. she tries to let the picture distract her, but her brain can't really focus on it. nerves, or something. she's out of her element, these things are usually easy but she's learned or... is learning that frank is anything but. ]
How you feeling? [ oh, uh. not about the sex or about their current situation. hurry, jessica. quickly follow up. ] Your face, I mean. And the rest of your body. [ stop talking about his appearance. ] I guess mentally, too. [ mentally?? ] You know what, you look like shit, I can take a hint from that.
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before he can open his mouth to answer, she's going on, and his eyes narrow as he tries to figure out what she's after. if she's realizing frank isn't easy, he's realizing jessica jones isn't easy to read, or figure out. it might be what he likes the most about her. ]
I've been better. [ he confirms, taking another step towards her stiltedly. he wants to be smooth right now, but that's not who he is. sometimes he can crack a joke at the right time, but he's never going to be good at flirting or... whatever this is. she's asking how he is... mentally? and he shrugs, looking a little helpless despite himself. ] I'm a little mixed up, you know.
[ frank bites into his lips and tries to ignore how fast his heart is pounding. can she hear it? he feels like she ought to be able to. ]
Probably just from getting hit too many times, right?
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You don't even look like you should be standing. [ let alone making booty calls. ] You're normal, at least physically. You don't have any powers and... Here you are. [ she pauses, looking at him. ] You don't need any. [ you're talking to a girl who finds it hard to get out of bed after a long night of drinking, so. all this is pretty amazing to her. ]
I don't know if that makes you the worlds most resilient man or the worlds most stubborn man.
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Little of both, you think? [ his eyes climb back up to meet hers and he grins a little riotously as he licks over his lips again. ] Maybe that is my superpower, yeah? I always get back up.
[ he used to think it was a curse... now he's not so sure. ]
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[ it's a strange shift of the tone in their conversation, vastly different than the slew of happy chatter and music coming from the TV behind her. she stares at him a little more intently now, focusing on the subtle movements his face makes. on the outside it seems like a simple question, but she knows how complicated these things can be. honestly, she just wants to understand him a little better, figure out if the only reason why he's still going is because he hasn't been taken out yet, or if he actually feels like he's fulfilling a purpose. ]
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Yeah. [ it starts out as a soft croak but then he's answering her with conviction, eyes still soft so she can pick out his sincerity in their depths. ] Yeah, I care. Of course, I care. Don't you?
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I don't know. [ it's indifferent, but it's honest. ] Just being alive... My whole existence has killed and ruined so many peoples lives. Every time I try to do the right thing... [ well, she carries her eyes back up to his because he knows, that much she does understand about him. ] I should be dead, I should have died in the car crash that killed the rest of my family. But I'm here, so. I just keep going until I don't have to anymore.
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I guess that's why I do it, too. You can't bring them back, but you can live. That's all either of us can do. [ feels fucking lame in the end, but that's all he's got, really. lame platitudes and dumb jokes. ]
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but she was realizing their similarities weren't just there for her to use and take advantage of. it was starting to make an emotional connection between them, and feelings that weren't just... fleeting, intense feelings of passion. it's something she didn't expect to and doesn't want to have to deal with. ]
I shouldn't be here. [ she shouldn't, but just like how they both live, here she is. ]
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You don't have to go. [ he says then immediately isn't sure why he said it, biting down on his lip and tasting blood, but he can ignore that for at least a few minutes. he assumes they're not sleeping together because of something he said, or maybe what she did. he points ahead to the screen suddenly. ] We could... finish the movie?
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