Francesca Crain

@cutthroat-rp

"This? - This is all I've got. I have nothing else left." {rp | dee | 19ooc | she/her | main: @fallingfavourites }

26 posts

Francesca "Frankie" Crain - Cutthroat | intro

"I can't think about it – if I do I'll never be able to sleep again..."

Francesca Crain – to friends known as Frankie or Fran, in dark alleyways better known as Cutthroat – her allies tend to call her C. Ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. An 38 year old vigilante/hitwoman for hire. She will take any job if she gets payed enough. Her expertise lays with knifes, or any sharp objects will do, but she doesn't shy away from hand to hand combat or firearms. A rough past full of pain, anger, betrayal, underground fightingring, prison, hurt and loneliness.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

"They didn't deserve death – I did. I do."

Frankie interacts with anyone. She is more of a street level hero, that's what's shes familiar with and sticks to. She does still have a past and connections with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the avengers. Frankie has done jobs for more people than she can count. For legal reasons she can't reveal the names of those people. (wilson fisk and valentina allegra de fontaine for example)

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

activity ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ "on the streets" : currently active/replies in 5-15 minutes ✧ "chilling on rooftops" : kinda active/replies in 30min/1hour ✧ "shit i gotta run" : not very active/replies in 2/3 hours ✧ "not dead, just sleeping" : im sleeping./replies in 7+hours ✧

OPEN MCU RP STARTER

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

Francesca can feel the blood dry under her finger nails. Her hair blows in the cold wind of New York City. She is standing near the edge of a roof. She has always found peace on rooftops – it's quiet and there are no people around. The throwing knife she is holding in her hand shines in the moon light. It's still stained with blood. Blood of a man she didn't even know the name of. All she knew was he was her target, just someone who she got payed to kill. She wipes the knife against her black suit. The blood soaking into the fabric. She pauses for a moment. Freezes like a deer in headlights. She heard footsteps behind her. She whips around – ready to throw her knife at whoever it is. When Frankie realizes who it is she lets out a sigh and lowers her knife. She doesn't say a word, just turns around and leans down on the ledge of the roof. Feeling the cold concrete through the fabric of her suit. She waits for them to speak up.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

//anyone feel free to join!! i swear im nice, Frankie maybe not so much

She had been tracking her for a while, silently. It was just a way of collecting intel... or rather just soothing her curiosity. It was only when the other was alone that she made herself known- the footsteps from her boots on the rooftop.

She doesn't flinch when the other readies her knife. When the knife is lowered she simply tilts her head slightly. And there stands Black Cat, all suited up with her hair tied back in a pony.

"I would say I'm not a threat, but it looks like you already know that."

Frankie hums in acknowledgement. "I've seen you around before." Instead of explaining from where or how she knows about the Black Cat she stays quiet. Deeming it unnecessary to explain further.

She keeps her eyes focused on the skyline. Most would be worried about watching their backs but Frankie isn't. Over the years she has learned how to read a situation like this one. Neither of the woman have anything against the other. Worrying about a fight would just be a waste of her energy. Of course this doesn't mean her guard is down, or even lowered. It's still as high up as it always is.

Frankie picks at the dried blood on her fingers. It flakes off and blows away with the wind. Against her better judgement she does glance back at the Black Cat. It's the first time she's actually run into her, she can't help the slight curiosity that bubbles up inside of her.

At her comment, the corner of Black Cat's lips turn ever so slightly upwards. It's a bit amusing. Usually people would either not recognize her, or over explain themselves.

She follows the other's gaze, tracing it to the skyline. A skyline that is forever a comfort to Black Cat, and possibly just both of them. She lowers her gaze from the familiar view back to the woman in front of her.

Black Cat moves, her footsteps back to being silent as she settles next to the other woman. She doesn't miss that curious glance.

"I hope you're having a better night than I am." She says humorlessly, her voice ever so slightly muffled by her mask. Frankie didn't mean to start up a conversation but just being silent didn't feel like an option.

As the Black Cat now stands next to her it does make her wonder how and why she showed up here. Was she followed? She should’ve noticed that if she was. Or did the Black Cat just happen to stumble onto the same rooftop she did. She doesn't voice any of her questions. Deciding to keep them to herself.

Frankie tucks a stray piece of her blonde hair behind her ear. Her eyes stay on the skyline, they do occasionally flicker over to her companion.

"Not satisfied with your job?" She asks. There's an edge to her voice that's almost playful. Almost. She turns her head once more towards the view. She wasn't really paying attention to it, but it was better than staring at the other woman constantly.

"I've been following you all night- saw your hit." Black Cat moves her hands to the pockets of her cargo pants.

"But it depends on perspective. You were doing your job just as I was doing mine, yet I seem more comfortable with the outcome." Even with the slight wind blowing strands of hair into her face, she doesn't lift a hand to try and stop it. Black Cat doesn't care that it affects the view in front of her, her attention is solely on the woman next to her.

Frankie shakes her head at the question, "I get payed, that's all that matters." Her voice is detached as she says it. Her eyes refuse to meet Black Cat. A twitch of her jaw gives her away.

A slight chill runs down her spine at the confirmation that she's been follwing her this whole time. How did she not notice? That's something she should’ve noticed. Maybe she's getting too old for this.

"And what exactly is your job?" Frankie asks as she glances at the white haired woman. There's a guarded edge to her voice, ready for anything incase the situation changes. You can never be too careful in New York, especially with the people Frankie tends to run into.

Black Cat hums softly. She can see right through the woman with practiced ease. Is it 'all that matters'? Black Cat knows different, but she doesn't push further on the subject. That can wait for a different time.

At the question she keeps still, side-eyeing the other woman. A smile grows on her face.

"Which one?" She asks with a knowing and playful smile. Black Cat can hear the cautious tone. The tone she hears all too much. She doesn't wait for a response before adding "I collect and broker information."

"Did someone hire you?" Frankie is immediately more on edge – she turns to face Black Cat, her shoulders tense and her hands clench into fists. "Or did you follow me because you have too much time on your hands?" Frankie laughs but there's no humor to it.

Her eyes are squinted as they stay follow locked on the woman now in front of her. In the moment she can't appreciate the playful smile on her face. It makes her scowl beneath her mask.

Frankie knows way too little about Black Cat. Sure she's seen her in news papers before, heard about her through the grapevine but she's never cared enough to fully look into her. Never thinking she could ever become a possible problem for her. She is definitely regretting that right about now.

Black Cat turns her head, and then her body, to fully face the other. She tilts her head slightly again. Her eyes rake down the other's body briefly. She can see the tension in the other's body.

"Nobody hired me. You came up on my radar, piqued my interest, and now here we are." Her gaze is now more calculating, the earlier playfulness in her voice now gone. She removes her hands from her pockets, but lets them stay limp at her sides.

Last thing she wants is to accidentally start a fight right now, but it's always better to be safe than sorry.

The tension in Frankie's shoulders eases slightly. She is still in high alert. Maybe she's being too paranoid about the whole situation, but on the other hand she would've been dead a long time if she didn't overthink everything.

"How long have you been following me? Just tonight or longer?" Frankie interrogates Black Cat. She needs answers. If Black Cat was able to follow her unnoticed who knows who else has slipped past her.

Her icey blue eyes stare at the woman. Trying to figure her and her motives out.

Black Cat pays close attention to the way that the tension eases. She remains unmoving and continues to watch the other's body language.

"Long enough," she says. It's a vague answer. A purposefully vague answer. She isn't going to give up her methods and practice that easily. One, where's the fun in that? Two, giving out too much information can be dangerous.

Black Cat knows her answer won't be appeasing, but it's the answer she gave anyway.

Frankie grinds her teeth at the vague answer. She should’ve seen that one coming. She can't help but scoff at the fact she doesn't add anything else to it.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you stopped." She huffed, accompanied with an eye roll. She turns away from Black Cat again. She doesn't have nearly enough energy to deal with this.

She had planned on quiet when she picked this rooftop. A peaceful place to ruminate on every decision she's ever made. No.w she has to deal with Black Cat.

Just as it went away, the light playfulness is back. She can see the effect she has on the other woman, and decides that a fight isn't likely to happen.

"Where would be the fun in that? Besides, you wouldn't even know if I was, just like today." A smile returns to her face as she speaks. "You telling me to stop just makes me want to dig further, Francesca," she adds.

Her whole body goes tense. In a split second Frankie grabs Black Cat's suit in her hand and with her other hand she holds up a knife to her throat. How does she know her name – not just her nickname, her full first name. A million things rush through her head, trying to find any explanation to how she knows.

Her blue eyes glare at the woman she holds close to her. She presses the knife closer to her skin – not close enough to draw blood but close enough to feel the pressure of it.

“How. How do you know my name?” It's not so much a question as it is a demand. She needs the Black Cat to confess. Did one of her past contacts rat her out? Did she slip up? There are hundreds of possibilities, and if there is one thing Frankie doesn't like it's things being up in the air. Not having a clear answer on something.

#its shorter than i wanted it to be :/#th3blackcatt #francesca crain

OPEN MCU RP STARTER

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

Francesca can feel the blood dry under her finger nails. Her hair blows in the cold wind of New York City. She is standing near the edge of a roof. She has always found peace on rooftops – it's quiet and there are no people around. The throwing knife she is holding in her hand shines in the moon light. It's still stained with blood. Blood of a man she didn't even know the name of. All she knew was he was her target, just someone who she got payed to kill. She wipes the knife against her black suit. The blood soaking into the fabric. She pauses for a moment. Freezes like a deer in headlights. She heard footsteps behind her. She whips around – ready to throw her knife at whoever it is. When Frankie realizes who it is she lets out a sigh and lowers her knife. She doesn't say a word, just turns around and leans down on the ledge of the roof. Feeling the cold concrete through the fabric of her suit. She waits for them to speak up.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

//anyone feel free to join!! i swear im nice, Frankie maybe not so much

//i hate that this is flopping omg 😭 i was so excited to get into rp on here but i genuinely dont know how to do this 😭

fromhacker-tohero

“Woah there! I am aware of how this goes, I never saw you, you never saw me.” Daisy proclaims, holding her hands out as a gesture of peace.

Though, it doesn’t last long as the wind that’s currently blowing strands of hair in every which way has her regretting keeping it at its current length as she has to zip up the leather jacket she wore.

As much as she loved travelling around in her van, which was now safely parked in an alley a couple blocks away, to Daisy it felt weird for her to have come back to New York since the only place that was keeping her here really had been the Orphanage. St Agnes. However at the end of the day, she couldn’t deny that the quiet atmosphere here and L.A happened to share was a definite improvement from her previous destination.

"That sounds like a good deal." Frankie says as she glances behind her. A vague familiarity washes over her as she scans the face of the other woman. She can't quite seem to settle the feeling. She looks back out in front of her, watching the skyline of New York. She twirls around the knife in her hand.

It barely shows on her face as it suddenly hits her where she knows the woman from, but her jaw clenches. She's seen her before, a life time ago. Back when she was still with S.H.I.E.L.D. Back to when she still thought she was the good guy, before it all slipped through her fingers and found out she'd been taking out people for Hydra.

Frankie looks back down to the knife in her hands. Flashes of all that she's done, all the lifes she's taken wash over her and settle like a pit in her stomach. Her jaw twitches slightly as she tries to push down the feelings.

fromhacker-tohero

Wanting to stay true to her word, Daisy moves away from where she currently happened to be stood all the while she deliberately takes up a position by the section of ledge that allows her to look down on the exact spot where she’d accessed this rooftop from in the first place. Via the use of her power.

Though speaking of which, she casts a glance down at the bio-meter around her wrist and is relieved to see that both her heart rate and skin temperature readings are coming back normal. However, it appears to be short-lived as at the time that Daisy’s focus shifts up toward the moon she somehow also manages to get a split second glimpse of the other woman but from where or even if she might recognise her is a piece of information that still remains unclear.

//Apologies that this took me a while to write. There was always something about a couple sentences that didn’t read well.

A silence falls over the two woman. It's not uncomfortable, but not peaceful either. It's a strange feeling. It keeps Frankie on edge.

Frankie can't help but steal a glance at the other woman's wrist. She's not sure what it is exactly. From what she can see it seems like a simple heartbeat tracker. She shrugs it out of her mind, not deeming it important enough.

She places her knife back into it's original place on her thigh. Her eyes settle back on the skyline of the city that never sleeps. Her fingers absentmindedly pick at the dried blood on them. Small flakes dissappearing in the soft breeze.

fromhacker-tohero

As far as Daisy is concerned, the knife being sheathed is a small win. Though she knows that she can’t afford to make a mistake big enough that might result in it being thrown. Especially since she made the now risky decision to leave any weapon back at the van.

It’s not even a minute later that her voice is raised to barely above a whisper. When Daisy still not daring to risk glancing over at the other woman finds herself asking:

“You recognise me, don’t you?”

Frankie arches her back, stretching herself out. She places her palms flat on the concrete, feeling the cold sting through her gloves. Her fingers absentmindedly drum against the stone.

“I've seen you before.” It's extremely vague. She knows that but she tends to avoid talking about her time at S.H.I.E.L.D. as much as she can. After a beat she decides to explain further. “At S.H.I.E.L.D., back when it was still... you know.” She waves her hand around in front of her. It's supposed to represent S.H.I.E.L.D. before it fell.

Frankie's voice is detached as she talks about it. She has to force the words out of her mouth. A bitter edge is laced in her words as she her subconsciously thinks back to her time working for them.

#francesca crain #fromhacker-tohero

Her lip quirks up at his unexpected laugh and comment. That was probably the most positive reaction she has gotten after sharing that. She would never admit it, but this is one of those moments she'll think about when she can't sleep. A memory to replay in her head to get her through the dark and lonely nights. Sure, it might be a bit pathetic that the memory comes from a conversation with a stranger but Frankie takes whatever she can.

Frankie lifts the cigarette up to her mouth, taking one last long drag before mirroring Elijah and throwing it out the broken window. Her gloveless hand fidgets with the glove on her other hands. She's never been good at being completely still. Her fingers always moving, chewing something, her leg bouncing up and down when she sits. All a product of always having to be on high alert, she supposes.

Psychoanalyzing people? Suddenly all the crumbs he had left about what his job is connect for her. "Wait are you like a shrink or something?" She says it with a laugh even though the question that slipped past her is completely serious. The second part of his sentence goes past her. Not that she had felt judge throughout the conversation. This is probably the most honest and normal conversation she's had in months.

drcarpenterinthehouse

His hands raise.

“You caught me.” It’s not smug. Or, not intentionally, at least. Elijah’s tired eyes crinkle around the edges; hidden mischief glinting within his green eyes. “Professional quack for the empowered. Government issue.”

He debates lighting up another one, eyes falling back to the near empty pack sitting in his pocket. An audible grind of his jaw settles his answer: leave it. No point resting on a vice when he’s in a good moment. Those come few and far between these days. Something in the way she stands tells him she’s easing up, too. Even if she is fidgeting, picking at the cuff of her glove in a rhythm he seems to understand.

“I don’t like working off the clock,” He clears his throat– the action tastes like ash. “But–”

Elijah gestures aimlessly between them. Like this is something else entirely. “You seem like the type that needs an ear.” An offer. She doesn’t have to take it.

"I don't– I can't. I can't talk about the things I do." She pauses, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Even though you already have some idea," Frankie gestures to herself, it explains enough. "I can't involve people into it, by seeing my face you're probably already too involved.." As she speaks her thoughts out loud it's almost visible how her walls shoot back up. Her posture becoming more guarded. Her eyes darting to the broken window. Praying the rain calmed down – it hadn't.

Frankie shakes her head. Clearly frustrated with herself. Why did she take off her mask, why couldn't she just stick to her own rules. Her gloveless hand runs over her face, she grimaces slightly as her fingers drag across the cuts.

She should go home. Take a shower. Get some sleep, or at least try to. That's what she should do. Except a part of her refuses. Keeping her feet planted on Elijah's apartment floor. Maybe deep inside she longs for the human connection – the normalcy that she has pushed away for so long.

Her blue eyes flicker back up at him. Her mouth twitches to open. Wanting to scratch the itch of breaking the silence. She presses her lips together. Keeping herself from speaking up. She doesn't even know what she would say.

#Francesca Crain #drcarpenterinthehouse

Cutthroat's suit

SEALED DOCUMENT

Francesca Crain's criminal record.

Frankie can't help but raise an eyebrow at the fact that people want to kill him. Nothing about him has given her that feeling. She decides not to push that for now. He probably has a complicated past, just like her.

There is so much mystery that clouds this stranger, just like the smoke filling the space between them. Even though a million things run through her head, she doesn't ask, doesn't question. She accepts any answer he gives her, just like he does for her.

Frankie takes Elijah in, her relentless stare fully focused on him as she takes another drag of her cigarette. He looks tired, scratch that, the man in front of her looks exhausted. Although she doubts she looks any better – worse possibly. The feeling that she is intruding snakes up her spine. She is probably holding him back from sleeping.

She glances out the window. The rain hasn't stopped yet, it looks like it has slowed down a little but it's hard to tell.

"God no," She says with a laugh, a mixture of humor and bitterness. Her eyes cast down. Putting an end to her continuing stare. She fidgets with the smoking cylinder between her fingers. Biting the inside of her lip. "I-" She has to clear her throat, the words getting stuck. "I got it in prison..." Her voice softer than before, testing the waters. Unsure of what kind of reaction to expect.

drcarpenterinthehouse

It’s unfortunate that he can’t stifle the laugh. Tobacco stained teeth peek through his dry lips as he barks out a quick huff. Brows raised, Elijah simply shakes his head. “Should’ve guessed that one.”

Smoke drags out from every breath, cigarette soon to be burning down to the filter. He’s quick with them. Always is. Too bad he didn’t buy another pack. Elijah’s fingers idle, restlessly debating his next move. Eventually, the silence goes on too long. He flicks the butt out the broken window, watching the lingering trail of smoke disappear in the rain.

Facing the blonde once more, Elijah shrugs. If he feels like he’s being to honest–too trusting–god knows how she feels. A part of him wants to probe more. Prison. S.H.I.E.L.D. Whatever this is. It’s one hell of a track record. He scratches the back of his head. Normal people would have offered a seat by now.

Normal people have seats to offer. “I’m a little burnt out of psychoanalyzing people.” The admission is blunt. “But, uh, you don’t have to feel like I’m going to judge.”

Her lip quirks up at his unexpected laugh and comment. That was probably the most positive reaction she has gotten after sharing that. She would never admit it, but this is one of those moments she'll think about when she can't sleep. A memory to replay in her head to get her through the dark and lonely nights. Sure, it might be a bit pathetic that the memory comes from a conversation with a stranger but Frankie takes whatever she can.

Frankie lifts the cigarette up to her mouth, taking one last long drag before mirroring Elijah and throwing it out the broken window. Her gloveless hand fidgets with the glove on her other hands. She's never been good at being completely still. Her fingers always moving, chewing something, her leg bouncing up and down when she sits. All a product of always having to be on high alert, she supposes.

Psychoanalyzing people? Suddenly all the crumbs he had left about what his job is connect for her. "Wait are you like a shrink or something?" She says it with a laugh even though the question that slipped past her is completely serious. The second part of his sentence goes past her. Not that she had felt judge throughout the conversation. This is probably the most honest and normal conversation she's had in months.

#Francesca Crain #drcarpenterinthehouse

Frankie meets his reach. As she grabs the cigarette she twirls it between her fingers. She holds it out to be lit and gives an appreciative nod when it burns red and there is a small cloud of smoking flowing upwards. She brings the cigarette up to her lips and inhales. She turns her head slightly to the side as she exhales, not trying to blow the smoke straight into his face.

"Yeah, I- uh. I used to be shield, before the whole Hydra thing. After that, life got... complicated." The sentence dies out on her tongue. A distant look in the eyes she keeps trained on the burning cigarette in her hand. She sighs – it's a mixture of exhaustion and acceptance. She visibly shakes her head to get the images of the past out of her head. "So, usually I'm not the one like this. Underestimate the target, he had more security than I had planned for." Frankie shrugs it off as it's just another weekday for her.

"What about you?" She asks, finally looking back up from her hand to stare him straight in the eyes. There is that staring problem again. "Are you always this calm when a vigilante falls through your window?" She adds on, her nose scrunches slightly and the corner of her lip quirks up slightly. Although her tone and expression are more joking there is a deeper layer to her question. She wants to know exactly how and why he's so comfortable about all of this. She already made a mental note about him mentioning his job, although he never actually said what it was. Did he leave it vague on purpose? Is he hiding something? In the back of her mind she realizes her untrusting nature is definitely part of the reason why she isn't truly close to anyone.

drcarpenterinthehouse

S.H.I.E.L.D. That makes sense. Elijah nods at the small explanation, brows lowering at the slight defeat in her tone. He drags his palm over his beard, eventually scratching at the coarse hairs that trickle down his throat. There’s something burning underneath his fingers– every addition to the conversation only makes it worse. For a second, Elijah chews on the dry skin in the corner of his bottom lip, simply breathing in the stench of tobacco and rain.

“I think I’ve kind of accepted that people coming in either need to see me or want to kill me.” He admits through another drag, cherry burning red in the shadow of his room. “Helps if, uh, if I just accept it either way.”

He knows it’s dark. An uncomfortable truth spoken so freely to an absolute stranger. Shit, he’s losing his touch. Elijah decides he’s going to blame lack of sleep. No other reason. His hollow eyes avoid her entirely, now, instead his blurry vision focuses on the eclectic stacks of books taking the place of furniture.

“Was Cutthroat something they gave you at S.H.I.E.L.D?” The question comes with a humorous huff. “I thought they didn’t like their codenames being too metal.”

Frankie can't help but raise an eyebrow at the fact that people want to kill him. Nothing about him has given her that feeling. She decides not to push that for now. He probably has a complicated past, just like her.

There is so much mystery that clouds this stranger, just like the smoke filling the space between them. Even though a million things run through her head, she doesn't ask, doesn't question. She accepts any answer he gives her, just like he does for her.

Frankie takes Elijah in, her relentless stare fully focused on him as she takes another drag of her cigarette. He looks tired, scratch that, the man in front of her looks exhausted. Although she doubts she looks any better – worse possibly. The feeling that she is intruding snakes up her spine. She is probably holding him back from sleeping.

She glances out the window. The rain hasn't stopped yet, it looks like it has slowed down a little but it's hard to tell.

"God no," She says with a laugh, a mixture of humor and bitterness. Her eyes cast down. Putting an end to her continuing stare. She fidgets with the smoking cylinder between her fingers. Biting the inside of her lip. "I-" She has to clear her throat, the words getting stuck. "I got it in prison..." Her voice softer than before, testing the waters. Unsure of what kind of reaction to expect.

#Francesca Crain #drcarpenterinthehouse

She mulls it over. Every possible out come goes through her head. "Fuck it." She mutters as she pulls her mask down, letting it hang from her neck. She's too tired to actually care about the possible consequences. Plus he doesn't know her actual name, so she should be good.

Her curiosity gnaws away at her to ask what kind of job he does. She shouldn't ask. It's way too personal. It would build a foundation for a possible connection and she can't let that happen. So instead she stays quiet as she takes a few steps closer to him.

She holds her gloveless hand out for a cigarette. Frankie finds a strange comfort in the interaction with Elijah. There is a quiet understanding between them. He doesn't ask, he doesn't push. She's grateful for it. Out of all the apartments to crash into she picked the right one.

drcarpenterinthehouse

Elijah’s brows raise in acknowledgement.

The carton opens, holding three loose and rattling pre-rolls inside–one turned upside down “for luck”. He goes to pluck one between two fingers until he hesitates. Always so quick to trust. His face twitches; creases embedding around his eyes to hide a wince. Before he can think better of it, Elijah extends one out anyway. Not far enough for her to take, C has to meet him halfway.

“How often are you the one walking away beat up?” The soft spoken tone shifts— that professional cadence dropping as he takes another drag. “You don’t seem… new to all this.”

Frankie meets his reach. As she grabs the cigarette she twirls it between her fingers. She holds it out to be lit and gives an appreciative nod when it burns red and there is a small cloud of smoking flowing upwards. She brings the cigarette up to her lips and inhales. She turns her head slightly to the side as she exhales, not trying to blow the smoke straight into his face.

"Yeah, I- uh. I used to be shield, before the whole Hydra thing. After that, life got... complicated." The sentence dies out on her tongue. A distant look in the eyes she keeps trained on the burning cigarette in her hand. She sighs – it's a mixture of exhaustion and acceptance. She visibly shakes her head to get the images of the past out of her head. "So, usually I'm not the one like this. Underestimate the target, he had more security than I had planned for." Frankie shrugs it off as it's just another weekday for her.

"What about you?" She asks, finally looking back up from her hand to stare him straight in the eyes. There is that staring problem again. "Are you always this calm when a vigilante falls through your window?" She adds on, her nose scrunches slightly and the corner of her lip quirks up slightly. Although her tone and expression are more joking there is a deeper layer to her question. She wants to know exactly how and why he's so comfortable about all of this. She already made a mental note about him mentioning his job, although he never actually said what it was. Did he leave it vague on purpose? Is he hiding something? In the back of her mind she realizes her untrusting nature is definitely part of the reason why she isn't truly close to anyone.

#Francesca Crain #drcarpenterinthehouse

OPEN MCU RP STARTER

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

Francesca can feel the blood dry under her finger nails. Her hair blows in the cold wind of New York City. She is standing near the edge of a roof. She has always found peace on rooftops – it's quiet and there are no people around. The throwing knife she is holding in her hand shines in the moon light. It's still stained with blood. Blood of a man she didn't even know the name of. All she knew was he was her target, just someone who she got payed to kill. She wipes the knife against her black suit. The blood soaking into the fabric. She pauses for a moment. Freezes like a deer in headlights. She heard footsteps behind her. She whips around – ready to throw her knife at whoever it is. When Frankie realizes who it is she lets out a sigh and lowers her knife. She doesn't say a word, just turns around and leans down on the ledge of the roof. Feeling the cold concrete through the fabric of her suit. She waits for them to speak up.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

//anyone feel free to join!! i swear im nice, Frankie maybe not so much

//i hate that this is flopping omg 😭 i was so excited to get into rp on here but i genuinely dont know how to do this 😭

fromhacker-tohero

“Woah there! I am aware of how this goes, I never saw you, you never saw me.” Daisy proclaims, holding her hands out as a gesture of peace.

Though, it doesn’t last long as the wind that’s currently blowing strands of hair in every which way has her regretting keeping it at its current length as she has to zip up the leather jacket she wore.

As much as she loved travelling around in her van, which was now safely parked in an alley a couple blocks away, to Daisy it felt weird for her to have come back to New York since the only place that was keeping her here really had been the Orphanage. St Agnes. However at the end of the day, she couldn’t deny that the quiet atmosphere here and L.A happened to share was a definite improvement from her previous destination.

"That sounds like a good deal." Frankie says as she glances behind her. A vague familiarity washes over her as she scans the face of the other woman. She can't quite seem to settle the feeling. She looks back out in front of her, watching the skyline of New York. She twirls around the knife in her hand.

It barely shows on her face as it suddenly hits her where she knows the woman from, but her jaw clenches. She's seen her before, a life time ago. Back when she was still with S.H.I.E.L.D. Back to when she still thought she was the good guy, before it all slipped through her fingers and found out she'd been taking out people for Hydra.

Frankie looks back down to the knife in her hands. Flashes of all that she's done, all the lifes she's taken wash over her and settle like a pit in her stomach. Her jaw twitches slightly as she tries to push down the feelings.

fromhacker-tohero

Wanting to stay true to her word, Daisy moves away from where she currently happened to be stood all the while she deliberately takes up a position by the section of ledge that allows her to look down on the exact spot where she’d accessed this rooftop from in the first place. Via the use of her power.

Though speaking of which, she casts a glance down at the bio-meter around her wrist and is relieved to see that both her heart rate and skin temperature readings are coming back normal. However, it appears to be short-lived as at the time that Daisy’s focus shifts up toward the moon she somehow also manages to get a split second glimpse of the other woman but from where or even if she might recognise her is a piece of information that still remains unclear.

//Apologies that this took me a while to write. There was always something about a couple sentences that didn’t read well.

A silence falls over the two woman. It's not uncomfortable, but not peaceful either. It's a strange feeling. It keeps Frankie on edge.

Frankie can't help but steal a glance at the other woman's wrist. She's not sure what it is exactly. From what she can see it seems like a simple heartbeat tracker. She shrugs it out of her mind, not deeming it important enough.

She places her knife back into it's original place on her thigh. Her eyes settle back on the skyline of the city that never sleeps. Her fingers absentmindedly pick at the dried blood on them. Small flakes dissappearing in the soft breeze.

#francesca crain #fromhacker-tohero

OPEN MCU RP STARTER

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

Francesca can feel the blood dry under her finger nails. Her hair blows in the cold wind of New York City. She is standing near the edge of a roof. She has always found peace on rooftops – it's quiet and there are no people around. The throwing knife she is holding in her hand shines in the moon light. It's still stained with blood. Blood of a man she didn't even know the name of. All she knew was he was her target, just someone who she got payed to kill. She wipes the knife against her black suit. The blood soaking into the fabric. She pauses for a moment. Freezes like a deer in headlights. She heard footsteps behind her. She whips around – ready to throw her knife at whoever it is. When Frankie realizes who it is she lets out a sigh and lowers her knife. She doesn't say a word, just turns around and leans down on the ledge of the roof. Feeling the cold concrete through the fabric of her suit. She waits for them to speak up.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

//anyone feel free to join!! i swear im nice, Frankie maybe not so much

She had been tracking her for a while, silently. It was just a way of collecting intel... or rather just soothing her curiosity. It was only when the other was alone that she made herself known- the footsteps from her boots on the rooftop.

She doesn't flinch when the other readies her knife. When the knife is lowered she simply tilts her head slightly. And there stands Black Cat, all suited up with her hair tied back in a pony.

"I would say I'm not a threat, but it looks like you already know that."

Frankie hums in acknowledgement. "I've seen you around before." Instead of explaining from where or how she knows about the Black Cat she stays quiet. Deeming it unnecessary to explain further.

She keeps her eyes focused on the skyline. Most would be worried about watching their backs but Frankie isn't. Over the years she has learned how to read a situation like this one. Neither of the woman have anything against the other. Worrying about a fight would just be a waste of her energy. Of course this doesn't mean her guard is down, or even lowered. It's still as high up as it always is.

Frankie picks at the dried blood on her fingers. It flakes off and blows away with the wind. Against her better judgement she does glance back at the Black Cat. It's the first time she's actually run into her, she can't help the slight curiosity that bubbles up inside of her.

At her comment, the corner of Black Cat's lips turn ever so slightly upwards. It's a bit amusing. Usually people would either not recognize her, or over explain themselves.

She follows the other's gaze, tracing it to the skyline. A skyline that is forever a comfort to Black Cat, and possibly just both of them. She lowers her gaze from the familiar view back to the woman in front of her.

Black Cat moves, her footsteps back to being silent as she settles next to the other woman. She doesn't miss that curious glance.

"I hope you're having a better night than I am." She says humorlessly, her voice ever so slightly muffled by her mask. Frankie didn't mean to start up a conversation but just being silent didn't feel like an option.

As the Black Cat now stands next to her it does make her wonder how and why she showed up here. Was she followed? She should’ve noticed that if she was. Or did the Black Cat just happen to stumble onto the same rooftop she did. She doesn't voice any of her questions. Deciding to keep them to herself.

Frankie tucks a stray piece of her blonde hair behind her ear. Her eyes stay on the skyline, they do occasionally flicker over to her companion.

"Not satisfied with your job?" She asks. There's an edge to her voice that's almost playful. Almost. She turns her head once more towards the view. She wasn't really paying attention to it, but it was better than staring at the other woman constantly.

"I've been following you all night- saw your hit." Black Cat moves her hands to the pockets of her cargo pants.

"But it depends on perspective. You were doing your job just as I was doing mine, yet I seem more comfortable with the outcome." Even with the slight wind blowing strands of hair into her face, she doesn't lift a hand to try and stop it. Black Cat doesn't care that it affects the view in front of her, her attention is solely on the woman next to her.

Frankie shakes her head at the question, "I get payed, that's all that matters." Her voice is detached as she says it. Her eyes refuse to meet Black Cat. A twitch of her jaw gives her away.

A slight chill runs down her spine at the confirmation that she's been follwing her this whole time. How did she not notice? That's something she should’ve noticed. Maybe she's getting too old for this.

"And what exactly is your job?" Frankie asks as she glances at the white haired woman. There's a guarded edge to her voice, ready for anything incase the situation changes. You can never be too careful in New York, especially with the people Frankie tends to run into.

Black Cat hums softly. She can see right through the woman with practiced ease. Is it 'all that matters'? Black Cat knows different, but she doesn't push further on the subject. That can wait for a different time.

At the question she keeps still, side-eyeing the other woman. A smile grows on her face.

"Which one?" She asks with a knowing and playful smile. Black Cat can hear the cautious tone. The tone she hears all too much. She doesn't wait for a response before adding "I collect and broker information."

"Did someone hire you?" Frankie is immediately more on edge – she turns to face Black Cat, her shoulders tense and her hands clench into fists. "Or did you follow me because you have too much time on your hands?" Frankie laughs but there's no humor to it.

Her eyes are squinted as they stay follow locked on the woman now in front of her. In the moment she can't appreciate the playful smile on her face. It makes her scowl beneath her mask.

Frankie knows way too little about Black Cat. Sure she's seen her in news papers before, heard about her through the grapevine but she's never cared enough to fully look into her. Never thinking she could ever become a possible problem for her. She is definitely regretting that right about now.

Black Cat turns her head, and then her body, to fully face the other. She tilts her head slightly again. Her eyes rake down the other's body briefly. She can see the tension in the other's body.

"Nobody hired me. You came up on my radar, piqued my interest, and now here we are." Her gaze is now more calculating, the earlier playfulness in her voice now gone. She removes her hands from her pockets, but lets them stay limp at her sides.

Last thing she wants is to accidentally start a fight right now, but it's always better to be safe than sorry.

The tension in Frankie's shoulders eases slightly. She is still in high alert. Maybe she's being too paranoid about the whole situation, but on the other hand she would've been dead a long time if she didn't overthink everything.

"How long have you been following me? Just tonight or longer?" Frankie interrogates Black Cat. She needs answers. If Black Cat was able to follow her unnoticed who knows who else has slipped past her.

Her icey blue eyes stare at the woman. Trying to figure her and her motives out.

Black Cat pays close attention to the way that the tension eases. She remains unmoving and continues to watch the other's body language.

"Long enough," she says. It's a vague answer. A purposefully vague answer. She isn't going to give up her methods and practice that easily. One, where's the fun in that? Two, giving out too much information can be dangerous.

Black Cat knows her answer won't be appeasing, but it's the answer she gave anyway.

Frankie grinds her teeth at the vague answer. She should’ve seen that one coming. She can't help but scoff at the fact she doesn't add anything else to it.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you stopped." She huffed, accompanied with an eye roll. She turns away from Black Cat again. She doesn't have nearly enough energy to deal with this.

She had planned on quiet when she picked this rooftop. A peaceful place to ruminate on every decision she's ever made. No.w she has to deal with Black Cat.

#Francesca Crain #th3blackcatt

"I'd offer to clean that up," She says as the glass scattered across the floor, "But, uh, well." She explains by glancing down at her injury.

Frankie lets out a small muffled chuckle as she looks down at her own suit at the mention of the word. She shouldn't make a habit out of crashing into random peoples apartments or she might actually have to think about adding space for a wallet.

"Sure," She shrugs, Frankie is never opposed to anything that takes the edge off. She pushes herself off the counter, holding in a painful noise. When she stands on her own two feet again she pauses. "Well, I would. The mask makes it kinda difficult." She adds on, only just now realizing. She stands still, almost awkwardly, unsure of what her next move should be.

Should she take him up on the offer, take off her mask – would a smoke with a stranger be really worth risking her secret identity for? She could always threaten to kill him if he even thinks about exposing her. Or should she decline and leave. Not that she is really in any condition to go anywhere right now. She isn't even fully sure where she is in the city. The weather doesn't seem to be on her side either.

drcarpenterinthehouse

He’s lighting up before she even finishes the sentence, having swiped the half empty pack off the counter as she spoke. The cherry glows red as his first inhale drags deep. Elijah’s eyes nearly roll back into his head. Sweet, sweet nicotine. Usually, he’d retreat to the balcony for a puff, but the giant hole in his window lets him skip that step. He exhales, a steady plume of smoke billows from his dry lips. Okay, that at least solves the twitching.

“Your call.” He adds, rattling the malboros in his other hand. “I’ve seen a moron or two cut a hole through their mask for a drag.”

Elijah points to her mask, eyes lingering on the cut just above where it sits on her cheek. More glass clinks and clatters as he kicks it away. Eventually, enough space is made for him to lean against the bare walls. Heavy rain is already making a puddle from the open space. Water quickly takes roots in his holed socks.

“I work with supes.” Finally, something truthful. “So, uh, I took a sworn oath to keep secret identities… you know, secret.”

She mulls it over. Every possible out come goes through her head. "Fuck it." She mutters as she pulls her mask down, letting it hang from her neck. She's too tired to actually care about the possible consequences. Plus he doesn't know her actual name, so she should be good.

Her curiosity gnaws away at her to ask what kind of job he does. She shouldn't ask. It's way too personal. It would build a foundation for a possible connection and she can't let that happen. So instead she stays quiet as she takes a few steps closer to him.

She holds her gloveless hand out for a cigarette. Frankie finds a strange comfort in the interaction with Elijah. There is a quiet understanding between them. He doesn't ask, he doesn't push. She's grateful for it. Out of all the apartments to crash into she picked the right one.

#Francesca Crain #drcarpenterinthehouse

OPEN MCU RP STARTER

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

Francesca can feel the blood dry under her finger nails. Her hair blows in the cold wind of New York City. She is standing near the edge of a roof. She has always found peace on rooftops – it's quiet and there are no people around. The throwing knife she is holding in her hand shines in the moon light. It's still stained with blood. Blood of a man she didn't even know the name of. All she knew was he was her target, just someone who she got payed to kill. She wipes the knife against her black suit. The blood soaking into the fabric. She pauses for a moment. Freezes like a deer in headlights. She heard footsteps behind her. She whips around – ready to throw her knife at whoever it is. When Frankie realizes who it is she lets out a sigh and lowers her knife. She doesn't say a word, just turns around and leans down on the ledge of the roof. Feeling the cold concrete through the fabric of her suit. She waits for them to speak up.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

//anyone feel free to join!! i swear im nice, Frankie maybe not so much

She had been tracking her for a while, silently. It was just a way of collecting intel... or rather just soothing her curiosity. It was only when the other was alone that she made herself known- the footsteps from her boots on the rooftop.

She doesn't flinch when the other readies her knife. When the knife is lowered she simply tilts her head slightly. And there stands Black Cat, all suited up with her hair tied back in a pony.

"I would say I'm not a threat, but it looks like you already know that."

Frankie hums in acknowledgement. "I've seen you around before." Instead of explaining from where or how she knows about the Black Cat she stays quiet. Deeming it unnecessary to explain further.

She keeps her eyes focused on the skyline. Most would be worried about watching their backs but Frankie isn't. Over the years she has learned how to read a situation like this one. Neither of the woman have anything against the other. Worrying about a fight would just be a waste of her energy. Of course this doesn't mean her guard is down, or even lowered. It's still as high up as it always is.

Frankie picks at the dried blood on her fingers. It flakes off and blows away with the wind. Against her better judgement she does glance back at the Black Cat. It's the first time she's actually run into her, she can't help the slight curiosity that bubbles up inside of her.

At her comment, the corner of Black Cat's lips turn ever so slightly upwards. It's a bit amusing. Usually people would either not recognize her, or over explain themselves.

She follows the other's gaze, tracing it to the skyline. A skyline that is forever a comfort to Black Cat, and possibly just both of them. She lowers her gaze from the familiar view back to the woman in front of her.

Black Cat moves, her footsteps back to being silent as she settles next to the other woman. She doesn't miss that curious glance.

"I hope you're having a better night than I am." She says humorlessly, her voice ever so slightly muffled by her mask. Frankie didn't mean to start up a conversation but just being silent didn't feel like an option.

As the Black Cat now stands next to her it does make her wonder how and why she showed up here. Was she followed? She should’ve noticed that if she was. Or did the Black Cat just happen to stumble onto the same rooftop she did. She doesn't voice any of her questions. Deciding to keep them to herself.

Frankie tucks a stray piece of her blonde hair behind her ear. Her eyes stay on the skyline, they do occasionally flicker over to her companion.

"Not satisfied with your job?" She asks. There's an edge to her voice that's almost playful. Almost. She turns her head once more towards the view. She wasn't really paying attention to it, but it was better than staring at the other woman constantly.

"I've been following you all night- saw your hit." Black Cat moves her hands to the pockets of her cargo pants.

"But it depends on perspective. You were doing your job just as I was doing mine, yet I seem more comfortable with the outcome." Even with the slight wind blowing strands of hair into her face, she doesn't lift a hand to try and stop it. Black Cat doesn't care that it affects the view in front of her, her attention is solely on the woman next to her.

Frankie shakes her head at the question, "I get payed, that's all that matters." Her voice is detached as she says it. Her eyes refuse to meet Black Cat. A twitch of her jaw gives her away.

A slight chill runs down her spine at the confirmation that she's been follwing her this whole time. How did she not notice? That's something she should’ve noticed. Maybe she's getting too old for this.

"And what exactly is your job?" Frankie asks as she glances at the white haired woman. There's a guarded edge to her voice, ready for anything incase the situation changes. You can never be too careful in New York, especially with the people Frankie tends to run into.

Black Cat hums softly. She can see right through the woman with practiced ease. Is it 'all that matters'? Black Cat knows different, but she doesn't push further on the subject. That can wait for a different time.

At the question she keeps still, side-eyeing the other woman. A smile grows on her face.

"Which one?" She asks with a knowing and playful smile. Black Cat can hear the cautious tone. The tone she hears all too much. She doesn't wait for a response before adding "I collect and broker information."

"Did someone hire you?" Frankie is immediately more on edge – she turns to face Black Cat, her shoulders tense and her hands clench into fists. "Or did you follow me because you have too much time on your hands?" Frankie laughs but there's no humor to it.

Her eyes are squinted as they stay follow locked on the woman now in front of her. In the moment she can't appreciate the playful smile on her face. It makes her scowl beneath her mask.

Frankie knows way too little about Black Cat. Sure she's seen her in news papers before, heard about her through the grapevine but she's never cared enough to fully look into her. Never thinking she could ever become a possible problem for her. She is definitely regretting that right about now.

Black Cat turns her head, and then her body, to fully face the other. She tilts her head slightly again. Her eyes rake down the other's body briefly. She can see the tension in the other's body.

"Nobody hired me. You came up on my radar, piqued my interest, and now here we are." Her gaze is now more calculating, the earlier playfulness in her voice now gone. She removes her hands from her pockets, but lets them stay limp at her sides.

Last thing she wants is to accidentally start a fight right now, but it's always better to be safe than sorry.

The tension in Frankie's shoulders eases slightly. She is still in high alert. Maybe she's being too paranoid about the whole situation, but on the other hand she would've been dead a long time if she didn't overthink everything.

"How long have you been following me? Just tonight or longer?" Frankie interrogates Black Cat. She needs answers. If Black Cat was able to follow her unnoticed who knows who else has slipped past her.

Her icey blue eyes stare at the woman. Trying to figure her and her motives out.

#Francesca Crain #th3blackcatt

Frankie stares at his hand for a moment. She glances at her own hand. Her glove tinted red. She wipes her hand against the pants of her suit. It doesn't help much, "Uh, sorry." She mumbles as she just takes the glove off. She shakes his hand. It's slightly awkward, just like this whole interaction, but Frankie ignores it.

"F-" She tries to hide her slip up with clearing her throat. She her eyes dance around his apartment, hoping he didn't notice it. What is with this guy and having her guard slip? Does he have some calming superpower? Or has she just had a long night?

"Cutthroat." She says offhandedly before she pauses, realizing the name is a bit grotesque. "I didn't... pick it." She adds hesitantly. She gained the nickname years ago, back when she was still in prison, and it has stuck ever since. "You can just call me C though." It's easier, more personal but not too personal. More importantly it's familiar, back when she was still an agent people used to call her that, it gives her a strange type of comfort that she can't put her finger on.

"Sorry about the window, by the way." Frankie says as she lazily points at the window with her ungloved hand. "I'd offer to pay for it but i don't really carry money on me when i go out." She says as she gestures to herself. Frankie shifts on her feet.

drcarpenterinthehouse

He’s learned to ignore the slip ups. Especially when they come from someone who’s lost so much blood. Or had the shit beaten out of them. Or both, in this case. His hand shake is neat;, not too firm and not too soft, something well rehearsed.

Once her hand recedes, Elijah flexes his pale fingers. Tender knuckles crack from the taut strain; hidden only by his restless fidgeting. Cutthroat– he hadn’t heard that one before. Though, the names are getting harder and harder for him to keep track of. Elijah steps back. A piece of glass is kicked in the process, clattering across the hardwood floor with a screech. Closing his eyes, Elijah forces himself not to make a face.

“I got insurance. Uh. Like really good insurance.” He notes, gesturing to the window with a lazy swirl of his finger. “Learned the hard way you guys don’t really have space for a wallet in those suits.”

Maybe he should move. His eyes trace over the now gaping hole of his living room window. Jagged edges from a hurried break-in. This woman, C, is living with an urgency he’s begged his own dreams to forget. The water in his hand doesn’t feel strong enough.

“So…” Elijah’s voice drags, unsure of what to possibly say in the moment. “You smoke?”

"I'd offer to clean that up," She says as the glass scattered across the floor, "But, uh, well." She explains by glancing down at her injury.

Frankie lets out a small muffled chuckle as she looks down at her own suit at the mention of the word. She shouldn't make a habit out of crashing into random peoples apartments or she might actually have to think about adding space for a wallet.

"Sure," She shrugs, Frankie is never opposed to anything that takes the edge off. She pushes herself off the counter, holding in a painful noise. When she stands on her own two feet again she pauses. "Well, I would. The mask makes it kinda difficult." She adds on, only just now realizing. She stands still, almost awkwardly, unsure of what her next move should be.

Should she take him up on the offer, take off her mask – would a smoke with a stranger be really worth risking her secret identity for? She could always threaten to kill him if he even thinks about exposing her. Or should she decline and leave. Not that she is really in any condition to go anywhere right now. She isn't even fully sure where she is in the city. The weather doesn't seem to be on her side either.

#Francesca Crain #drcarpenterinthehouse

OPEN MCU RP STARTER

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

Francesca can feel the blood dry under her finger nails. Her hair blows in the cold wind of New York City. She is standing near the edge of a roof. She has always found peace on rooftops – it's quiet and there are no people around. The throwing knife she is holding in her hand shines in the moon light. It's still stained with blood. Blood of a man she didn't even know the name of. All she knew was he was her target, just someone who she got payed to kill. She wipes the knife against her black suit. The blood soaking into the fabric. She pauses for a moment. Freezes like a deer in headlights. She heard footsteps behind her. She whips around – ready to throw her knife at whoever it is. When Frankie realizes who it is she lets out a sigh and lowers her knife. She doesn't say a word, just turns around and leans down on the ledge of the roof. Feeling the cold concrete through the fabric of her suit. She waits for them to speak up.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

//anyone feel free to join!! i swear im nice, Frankie maybe not so much

She had been tracking her for a while, silently. It was just a way of collecting intel... or rather just soothing her curiosity. It was only when the other was alone that she made herself known- the footsteps from her boots on the rooftop.

She doesn't flinch when the other readies her knife. When the knife is lowered she simply tilts her head slightly. And there stands Black Cat, all suited up with her hair tied back in a pony.

"I would say I'm not a threat, but it looks like you already know that."

Frankie hums in acknowledgement. "I've seen you around before." Instead of explaining from where or how she knows about the Black Cat she stays quiet. Deeming it unnecessary to explain further.

She keeps her eyes focused on the skyline. Most would be worried about watching their backs but Frankie isn't. Over the years she has learned how to read a situation like this one. Neither of the woman have anything against the other. Worrying about a fight would just be a waste of her energy. Of course this doesn't mean her guard is down, or even lowered. It's still as high up as it always is.

Frankie picks at the dried blood on her fingers. It flakes off and blows away with the wind. Against her better judgement she does glance back at the Black Cat. It's the first time she's actually run into her, she can't help the slight curiosity that bubbles up inside of her.

At her comment, the corner of Black Cat's lips turn ever so slightly upwards. It's a bit amusing. Usually people would either not recognize her, or over explain themselves.

She follows the other's gaze, tracing it to the skyline. A skyline that is forever a comfort to Black Cat, and possibly just both of them. She lowers her gaze from the familiar view back to the woman in front of her.

Black Cat moves, her footsteps back to being silent as she settles next to the other woman. She doesn't miss that curious glance.

"I hope you're having a better night than I am." She says humorlessly, her voice ever so slightly muffled by her mask. Frankie didn't mean to start up a conversation but just being silent didn't feel like an option.

As the Black Cat now stands next to her it does make her wonder how and why she showed up here. Was she followed? She should’ve noticed that if she was. Or did the Black Cat just happen to stumble onto the same rooftop she did. She doesn't voice any of her questions. Deciding to keep them to herself.

Frankie tucks a stray piece of her blonde hair behind her ear. Her eyes stay on the skyline, they do occasionally flicker over to her companion.

"Not satisfied with your job?" She asks. There's an edge to her voice that's almost playful. Almost. She turns her head once more towards the view. She wasn't really paying attention to it, but it was better than staring at the other woman constantly.

"I've been following you all night- saw your hit." Black Cat moves her hands to the pockets of her cargo pants.

"But it depends on perspective. You were doing your job just as I was doing mine, yet I seem more comfortable with the outcome." Even with the slight wind blowing strands of hair into her face, she doesn't lift a hand to try and stop it. Black Cat doesn't care that it affects the view in front of her, her attention is solely on the woman next to her.

Frankie shakes her head at the question, "I get payed, that's all that matters." Her voice is detached as she says it. Her eyes refuse to meet Black Cat. A twitch of her jaw gives her away.

A slight chill runs down her spine at the confirmation that she's been follwing her this whole time. How did she not notice? That's something she should’ve noticed. Maybe she's getting too old for this.

"And what exactly is your job?" Frankie asks as she glances at the white haired woman. There's a guarded edge to her voice, ready for anything incase the situation changes. You can never be too careful in New York, especially with the people Frankie tends to run into.

Black Cat hums softly. She can see right through the woman with practiced ease. Is it 'all that matters'? Black Cat knows different, but she doesn't push further on the subject. That can wait for a different time.

At the question she keeps still, side-eyeing the other woman. A smile grows on her face.

"Which one?" She asks with a knowing and playful smile. Black Cat can hear the cautious tone. The tone she hears all too much. She doesn't wait for a response before adding "I collect and broker information."

"Did someone hire you?" Frankie is immediately more on edge – she turns to face Black Cat, her shoulders tense and her hands clench into fists. "Or did you follow me because you have too much time on your hands?" Frankie laughs but there's no humor to it.

Her eyes are squinted as they stay follow locked on the woman now in front of her. In the moment she can't appreciate the playful smile on her face. It makes her scowl beneath her mask.

Frankie knows way too little about Black Cat. Sure she's seen her in news papers before, heard about her through the grapevine but she's never cared enough to fully look into her. Never thinking she could ever become a possible problem for her. She is definitely regretting that right about now.

#Francesca Crain #th3blackcatt

OPEN MCU RP STARTER

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

Francesca can feel the blood dry under her finger nails. Her hair blows in the cold wind of New York City. She is standing near the edge of a roof. She has always found peace on rooftops – it's quiet and there are no people around. The throwing knife she is holding in her hand shines in the moon light. It's still stained with blood. Blood of a man she didn't even know the name of. All she knew was he was her target, just someone who she got payed to kill. She wipes the knife against her black suit. The blood soaking into the fabric. She pauses for a moment. Freezes like a deer in headlights. She heard footsteps behind her. She whips around – ready to throw her knife at whoever it is. When Frankie realizes who it is she lets out a sigh and lowers her knife. She doesn't say a word, just turns around and leans down on the ledge of the roof. Feeling the cold concrete through the fabric of her suit. She waits for them to speak up.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

//anyone feel free to join!! i swear im nice, Frankie maybe not so much

She had been tracking her for a while, silently. It was just a way of collecting intel... or rather just soothing her curiosity. It was only when the other was alone that she made herself known- the footsteps from her boots on the rooftop.

She doesn't flinch when the other readies her knife. When the knife is lowered she simply tilts her head slightly. And there stands Black Cat, all suited up with her hair tied back in a pony.

"I would say I'm not a threat, but it looks like you already know that."

Frankie hums in acknowledgement. "I've seen you around before." Instead of explaining from where or how she knows about the Black Cat she stays quiet. Deeming it unnecessary to explain further.

She keeps her eyes focused on the skyline. Most would be worried about watching their backs but Frankie isn't. Over the years she has learned how to read a situation like this one. Neither of the woman have anything against the other. Worrying about a fight would just be a waste of her energy. Of course this doesn't mean her guard is down, or even lowered. It's still as high up as it always is.

Frankie picks at the dried blood on her fingers. It flakes off and blows away with the wind. Against her better judgement she does glance back at the Black Cat. It's the first time she's actually run into her, she can't help the slight curiosity that bubbles up inside of her.

At her comment, the corner of Black Cat's lips turn ever so slightly upwards. It's a bit amusing. Usually people would either not recognize her, or over explain themselves.

She follows the other's gaze, tracing it to the skyline. A skyline that is forever a comfort to Black Cat, and possibly just both of them. She lowers her gaze from the familiar view back to the woman in front of her.

Black Cat moves, her footsteps back to being silent as she settles next to the other woman. She doesn't miss that curious glance.

"I hope you're having a better night than I am." She says humorlessly, her voice ever so slightly muffled by her mask. Frankie didn't mean to start up a conversation but just being silent didn't feel like an option.

As the Black Cat now stands next to her it does make her wonder how and why she showed up here. Was she followed? She should’ve noticed that if she was. Or did the Black Cat just happen to stumble onto the same rooftop she did. She doesn't voice any of her questions. Deciding to keep them to herself.

Frankie tucks a stray piece of her blonde hair behind her ear. Her eyes stay on the skyline, they do occasionally flicker over to her companion.

"Not satisfied with your job?" She asks. There's an edge to her voice that's almost playful. Almost. She turns her head once more towards the view. She wasn't really paying attention to it, but it was better than staring at the other woman constantly.

"I've been following you all night- saw your hit." Black Cat moves her hands to the pockets of her cargo pants.

"But it depends on perspective. You were doing your job just as I was doing mine, yet I seem more comfortable with the outcome." Even with the slight wind blowing strands of hair into her face, she doesn't lift a hand to try and stop it. Black Cat doesn't care that it affects the view in front of her, her attention is solely on the woman next to her.

Frankie shakes her head at the question, "I get payed, that's all that matters." Her voice is detached as she says it. Her eyes refuse to meet Black Cat. A twitch of her jaw gives her away.

A slight chill runs down her spine at the confirmation that she's been follwing her this whole time. How did she not notice? That's something she should’ve noticed. Maybe she's getting too old for this.

"And what exactly is your job?" Frankie asks as she glances at the white haired woman. There's a guarded edge to her voice, ready for anything incase the situation changes. You can never be too careful in New York, especially with the people Frankie tends to run into.

#Francesca Crain #th3blackcatt

OPEN MCU RP STARTER

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

Francesca can feel the blood dry under her finger nails. Her hair blows in the cold wind of New York City. She is standing near the edge of a roof. She has always found peace on rooftops – it's quiet and there are no people around. The throwing knife she is holding in her hand shines in the moon light. It's still stained with blood. Blood of a man she didn't even know the name of. All she knew was he was her target, just someone who she got payed to kill. She wipes the knife against her black suit. The blood soaking into the fabric. She pauses for a moment. Freezes like a deer in headlights. She heard footsteps behind her. She whips around – ready to throw her knife at whoever it is. When Frankie realizes who it is she lets out a sigh and lowers her knife. She doesn't say a word, just turns around and leans down on the ledge of the roof. Feeling the cold concrete through the fabric of her suit. She waits for them to speak up.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

//anyone feel free to join!! i swear im nice, Frankie maybe not so much

She had been tracking her for a while, silently. It was just a way of collecting intel... or rather just soothing her curiosity. It was only when the other was alone that she made herself known- the footsteps from her boots on the rooftop.

She doesn't flinch when the other readies her knife. When the knife is lowered she simply tilts her head slightly. And there stands Black Cat, all suited up with her hair tied back in a pony.

"I would say I'm not a threat, but it looks like you already know that."

Frankie hums in acknowledgement. "I've seen you around before." Instead of explaining from where or how she knows about the Black Cat she stays quiet. Deeming it unnecessary to explain further.

She keeps her eyes focused on the skyline. Most would be worried about watching their backs but Frankie isn't. Over the years she has learned how to read a situation like this one. Neither of the woman have anything against the other. Worrying about a fight would just be a waste of her energy. Of course this doesn't mean her guard is down, or even lowered. It's still as high up as it always is.

Frankie picks at the dried blood on her fingers. It flakes off and blows away with the wind. Against her better judgement she does glance back at the Black Cat. It's the first time she's actually run into her, she can't help the slight curiosity that bubbles up inside of her.

At her comment, the corner of Black Cat's lips turn ever so slightly upwards. It's a bit amusing. Usually people would either not recognize her, or over explain themselves.

She follows the other's gaze, tracing it to the skyline. A skyline that is forever a comfort to Black Cat, and possibly just both of them. She lowers her gaze from the familiar view back to the woman in front of her.

Black Cat moves, her footsteps back to being silent as she settles next to the other woman. She doesn't miss that curious glance.

"I hope you're having a better night than I am." She says humorlessly, her voice ever so slightly muffled by her mask. Frankie didn't mean to start up a conversation but just being silent didn't feel like an option.

As the Black Cat now stands next to her it does make her wonder how and why she showed up here. Was she followed? She should’ve noticed that if she was. Or did the Black Cat just happen to stumble onto the same rooftop she did. She doesn't voice any of her questions. Deciding to keep them to herself.

Frankie tucks a stray piece of her blonde hair behind her ear. Her eyes stay on the skyline, they do occasionally flicker over to her companion.

#Francesca Crain #th3blackcatt

Francesca Crain @cutthroat-rp - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag