βΒ Β Β Β β It was a strange thing β the mind. It was capable of conjuring things from imagination and by all rights felt real to body it inhabited. Anything the brain perceived was fact for the person and the person alone, no matter what other voices said. Accustomed to screaming, that of his own and from his enemies, he heard the phantom noises whenever his mind even dared to rest. A degree of rest in the shower, and Karen's struggles mingled with the downpour of steaming hot water. Frank had to stop more than six times to really listen, then realize that any signs of struggle were fictions of a battered mind. Like a person suffering with tinnitus, violence plagued his hearing even when it was beyond senses. It wasn't a new occurrence; Frank would often hear and see things after returning home from extended missions.
These things only lasted a couple of days before he settled into the routine of normal . . as close to normal he could get. It never stopped for Frank in the present. There was no home to return to, and there was no end to his mission. He scrubbed himself as though he was prepping for a physical or for his wedding night. The water could have cooked his skin, yet it wouldn't have been hot enough. He was mindful not to use all of Karen's hot water however. He lingered and scrubbed, but also diligently scraped his nails, washing away any traces of violence. He did not know how much time passed when the water was shut off, but it felt all too short.
Even with another ten minutes, Frank figured it would still feel short. With head dropped, Castle remained inside the steam logged shower and focused his breath. Droplets of hot water followed the slopes of battered and chiseled muscle from head to the surface of the tub. Although entirely slick, he swore he could feel every single droplet as it followed the path of flesh. He needed to calm down; he needed to reserve his hyper awareness for when shit would get ugly. It inevitably would; life for Karen and Frank carried that sin.
Curtain was drawn back, and Frank stepped onto the cold tile, only bothering to wrap himself in a towel for the sake of not making a mess of Karen's bathroom. One towel was fastened about his waist, and another hung across his shoulders to catch the excess water from black hair. In front of the mirror, hands gripped the edges of the sink. Another minute of focus passed before he wiped his palm across the cool surface of the mirror to reveal his tired expression. He did look better after the shower however. To helped himself to the toothpaste there, yet without a brush he scrubbed the minty goo across his teeth and tongue with the pad of his finger.
He cleaned his mouth like he had bitten into a man. Everything about Frank was ferocious; he constantly sought to punish himself even in rudimentary tasks. After he rinsed his mouth and was left pleasantly alert with minty freshness, palms met his face to scrub his face. A sorcerer willing life into a battered body. If it it wasn't for Karen, the man would have stole himself to the damp quiet of the bathroom for hours regardless of the temperature change. He dropped into her life again, and it wasn't fair to leave her alone with a storm of thoughts.
Towel moved harshly through hair, and then was left over shoulders to continue gathering water. Frank felt ashamed stepping out with only a towel on like he was crossing a line the two of them had agreed upon. He didn't want to leave her alone however. He stepped out slowly, listened for any signs of stress, then fully emerged barefoot when nothing reached his hearing. For a large man, he padded around rather softly, purposefully, and eyes searched for the blonde's body.
Β β Β Holding up okay, Karen...? Β β Β Β
