The Punisher @frank-o-war - Tumblr Blog

Frank... It's been a while. How're you holding up since last time?

@karenpage-journalist

Oh. Fine.

*Frank doesn't seem drunk at least, but he still looks... Not quite okay. Bags under his eyes and his jacket looks a bit baggier than it should*

Mmhmm. *doesn't sound convinced*

I know you're probably not up for going out, yet, but if I brought you a home-cooked meal, would you eat it?

*Frank hesitates for a few seconds*

Would you, uh, would ya be eatin with me? I can... I can try. Yeah...

*grin* I think I can manage that, yeah. Tonight okay? 6ish?

Yeah. Six. Got it.

*Flashes a weary smile that is trying to be genuine*

*Karen shows up at 6 with an actual picnic basket over her arm and an insulated cloth casserole dish carrier in her other hand. She sets the basket down at her feet to knock.*

*Frank answers the door. He looks a little more put together now. He is wearing a plain T-shirt and jeans and it looks like he brushed his hair*

Hey Karen. Tried to clean the place a bit. C'mon in.

*She looks optimistic to see him on his feet and looking more steady. Some worry that was making her chest tight eases to see him looking better.*

Thanks, Frank.

*She picks up the basket and comes in.*

I didn't really think you entertain visitors much, so I brought paper plates and cups, and silverware." *She tips her head toward the basket.* And I made lasagna. This is my grandmother's secret recipe, so I better not hear your complain. *teasing*

#//sorry for the late reply #frank castle rp #marvel rp #frank castle #marvel roleplay

*Frank chuckles*

Won't be hearin no complaints from me, I assure ya. And you was right to bring silverwear and plates. I don't got none.

*Frank closes the door behind her. The room is a bit cleaner. The guns are in a duffel bag, and there are no emoty beer cans in the ground, just some on top of the mini fridge, and if Karen had to guess, probably inside it too.*

Happy Pride month, Frank! Very excited to see your flag, I rarely see Demi people like me.

Yup. I'm aro-demisexual. Can't do romance no more after Maria. She was my one and only. Sexuality though is different. Glad to be some representation for ya, kid.

#semi-ooc #frank castle fictive #my real labels #frank castle

Frank... It's been a while. How're you holding up since last time?

@karenpage-journalist

Oh. Fine.

*Frank doesn't seem drunk at least, but he still looks... Not quite okay. Bags under his eyes and his jacket looks a bit baggier than it should*

Mmhmm. *doesn't sound convinced*

I know you're probably not up for going out, yet, but if I brought you a home-cooked meal, would you eat it?

*Frank hesitates for a few seconds*

Would you, uh, would ya be eatin with me? I can... I can try. Yeah...

*grin* I think I can manage that, yeah. Tonight okay? 6ish?

Yeah. Six. Got it.

*Flashes a weary smile that is trying to be genuine*

*Karen shows up at 6 with an actual picnic basket over her arm and an insulated cloth casserole dish carrier in her other hand. She sets the basket down at her feet to knock.*

#frank castle rp #marvel rp #frank castle #marvel roleplay

*Frank answers the door. He looks a little more put together now. He is wearing a plain T-shirt and jeans and it looks like he brushed his hair*

Hey Karen. Tried to clean the place a bit. C'mon in.

Frank... It's been a while. How're you holding up since last time?

@karenpage-journalist

Oh. Fine.

*Frank doesn't seem drunk at least, but he still looks... Not quite okay. Bags under his eyes and his jacket looks a bit baggier than it should*

Mmhmm. *doesn't sound convinced*

I know you're probably not up for going out, yet, but if I brought you a home-cooked meal, would you eat it?

*Frank hesitates for a few seconds*

Would you, uh, would ya be eatin with me? I can... I can try. Yeah...

*grin* I think I can manage that, yeah. Tonight okay? 6ish?

#frank castle rp #marvel rp #frank castle #marvel roleplay

Yeah. Six. Got it.

*Flashes a weary smile that is trying to be genuine*

Frank... It's been a while. How're you holding up since last time?

@karenpage-journalist

Oh. Fine.

*Frank doesn't seem drunk at least, but he still looks... Not quite okay. Bags under his eyes and his jacket looks a bit baggier than it should*

Mmhmm. *doesn't sound convinced*

I know you're probably not up for going out, yet, but if I brought you a home-cooked meal, would you eat it?

#karen page #frank castle #the punisher #frank-o-war #mcu rp #marvel rp blog #daredevil rp blog #rp blog

*Frank hesitates for a few seconds*

Would you, uh, would ya be eatin with me? I can... I can try. Yeah...

Hi, Frank.

@blackcatirl

*Frank grumbles*

Hey. What do you want?

*He seems tired*

blackcatirl

Can’t I say hello?

#frank castle rp #marvel rp #frank castle #marvel roleplay

*Frank sighs and runs a hand through his hair*

Yeah... Yeah. Fuck. Sorry. Didn't mean to be rude.

Hi, Frank.

@blackcatirl

*Frank grumbles*

Hey. What do you want?

*He seems tired*

#frank castle rp #marvel rp #frank castle #marvel roleplay

dog person or cat person?

Dogs. Cats are fine, but nothin compares to a Pitty or a Staffy.

#frank castle rp #marvel rp #frank castle #marvel roleplay

Frank... It's been a while. How're you holding up since last time?

@karenpage-journalist

Oh. Fine.

*Frank doesn't seem drunk at least, but he still looks... Not quite okay. Bags under his eyes and his jacket looks a bit baggier than it should*

#frank castle rp #marvel rp #frank castle #marvel roleplay

Frank... *gentle knocking on his door. The hour is much too late for visitors, but she knows he's awake.*

Are you okay? I heard .. well, I heard you might not be.

@karenpage-journalist

*she hears some shuffling and bottles clinking, then the door unlocks. It sounds like there is 3 locks on the door. He opens it.*

... Karen...? You. You actually here?

*Frank is definitely drunk*

Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. *She keeps her voice gentle. Frank looks bad.*

Can I come in? Before you scare your neighbors.

Shit. Yeah. Good thinkin.

*Frank walks back into his apartment. It looks very basic a kitchen and a bigger room. It is mostly empty save for a couch that looks like it's been there for ages, a mini fridge, a tote, and both guns and empty bottles litter the floor in piles*

*Karen steps into the apartment after him, her worry deepening. He's always been very careful to keep his weapons cleaned and organized, usually on tables or hung on the walls. This looks more like a hole to hide in than an apartment to live in.*

You've been going through some things, I take it? *She sounds concerned rather than accusatory.*

Wanna talk about it?

You.... All that shit... With daredevil. You went through that not too long ago... Don't wanna pile on my shit too. It's fine. I'll be-

*He trips, almost falling because he's drunk, very uncharacteristic of the man*

I'll be fine.

*he turns to the couch like somthing caught his attention and keeps it for a few seconds, before frank grumbles and turns back to Karen*

Sorry about the mess. Didn't expect no company.

*She gives a light laugh, but it has a brittle undercurrent.* Frank, I'm used to dealing with shit. That's all my life is at this point. I put out one fire after another. Hopefully before the next one spreads too far to contain.

*She jolts forward as he trips, her hands outstretched, but she's not sure what her plan would have been if he actually fell. He outweighs her by at least seventy pounds, and all of it solid muscle. There wasn't much she could do to keep him standing if he went down.*

You ... you should sit. Before you fall down. *gestures to the couch*

And you need to sober up. Badly. Where the hell is your coffee-maker? *She scans the kitchen area, but it looks empty.* And when was the last time you ate something?

*Frank grunts as he plops down onto the couch*

I get my coffee at the coffee shop on the corner now... Basically the only time I leave the damn house, so I just keep doin it. It's cheap enough.

Food. Right.... What day if the week is it? Thursday?

*She's actually glad he admits to occasionally leaving the apartment. She knows him too well, knows how he holes up in a dark corner sometimes for months at a time. If that's what it takes for him to complete a mission.*

No, Frank. It's not Thursday.

*She sighs and goes to the kitchen, grabs a chipped black coffee mug from the cupboard and rinses it off, then fills it with water from the tap, brings it over to the couch and holds it out to him.*

Drink this. I can't talk to you much when you have enough alcohol in you that this apartment smells like a distillery. When you can walk without falling down, will you come with me down the street to the diner? We'll get some coffee and food in you?

*Frank stares at Karen a bit, suspicious almost, but in a sad kind of way*

... You're... Are you... Actually here...?

*he seems hesitant to ask the question, like he is afraid of the answer*

*She swallows down a curse. Yeah, it's obvious he's not well enough to appear in public at the moment. She should have guessed that.*

Yeah, Frank. I'm here.

*She carefully sits down next to him on the couch, the old springs pressing into her back, still holding the glass of water that he didn't take. She looks at his glassy eyes.*

I'm right here.

*She lifts her free hand and gently places it on his shoulder, keeping her movements slow so she doesn't startle him.*

*Frank relaxes a fraction and slowly takes the mug of water, using both hands. Shit, his one hand is busted up and it is easy to see there is a fost-shaoed hole in his wall. He mumbles something*

... You said you were real last time too... I bet I'll try to drink this water and it'll be air... Fuck.

*he takes a sip and he almost startles at the cold water, anybody else wouldn't be able to tell, but this close to Frank (both emotionally and physically), Karen can tell*

*She frowns in concern.* Last time...? But I haven't... Oh, Frank. *She resists the urge to pull him into a hug. She doesn't know what is haunting him, but this is the worst she's seen him in a long while.*

*She gives him a minute of silence to rest and hopefully clear his head before she speaks again.* Feeling any better...?

*Frank takes a deep breath and then nods*

Yeah, Karen. Cold water... It helps some.

*Frank grits his teeth and winces slightly*

Could ya... Could ya grab me some pain killers? Should be a bottle beside your side of the couch.

*they are there. But... Those are prescription painkillers. Where the hell is he getting those, because she knows damn well he is not going to see a doctor*

*She reaches over and grabs the small bottle with her eyes still on Frank. Only when she holds them out to him does she glance down at the label.*

*She sucks in a breath between her teeth.* That's some strong stuff. Did you get hurt on a job?

*Frank paused and thought for a second, taking the bottle*

... Somthin like that...

*he chucks about 3 or 4 into his mouth and crunches down on them and chugs the rest of his water*

*She visibly winces at the sound.* That can't taste good. They're made for swallowing you know.

They work faster if ya bite em. Usually wash em down with beer so I don't taste it much.

Touché. *sits back against the couch* You up for telling me what's going on? You were doing pretty okay for a while, I thought. Working with Madani in the CIA sometimes? What changed?

Same thing I always fuckin do. Get the target, finish the job, go into hiding. Got caught for a few days. Fuckin big man in charge puting people in cages.

*his voice is a growl of anger at the memory, but he takes a deep breath*

So. I'm technically a fugative... Again. Life suits me.

....

*he waits a second and looks at the blank wall with a sadness that is close to grief*

They're all gone, Karen. Got every last connection. "No more to do. Poor Frank"

*he mumbles it like it was something that has been annoying him for a while*

Frank... *gentle knocking on his door. The hour is much too late for visitors, but she knows he's awake.*

Are you okay? I heard .. well, I heard you might not be.

@karenpage-journalist

*she hears some shuffling and bottles clinking, then the door unlocks. It sounds like there is 3 locks on the door. He opens it.*

... Karen...? You. You actually here?

*Frank is definitely drunk*

Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. *She keeps her voice gentle. Frank looks bad.*

Can I come in? Before you scare your neighbors.

Shit. Yeah. Good thinkin.

*Frank walks back into his apartment. It looks very basic a kitchen and a bigger room. It is mostly empty save for a couch that looks like it's been there for ages, a mini fridge, a tote, and both guns and empty bottles litter the floor in piles*

*Karen steps into the apartment after him, her worry deepening. He's always been very careful to keep his weapons cleaned and organized, usually on tables or hung on the walls. This looks more like a hole to hide in than an apartment to live in.*

You've been going through some things, I take it? *She sounds concerned rather than accusatory.*

Wanna talk about it?

You.... All that shit... With daredevil. You went through that not too long ago... Don't wanna pile on my shit too. It's fine. I'll be-

*He trips, almost falling because he's drunk, very uncharacteristic of the man*

I'll be fine.

*he turns to the couch like somthing caught his attention and keeps it for a few seconds, before frank grumbles and turns back to Karen*

Sorry about the mess. Didn't expect no company.

*She gives a light laugh, but it has a brittle undercurrent.* Frank, I'm used to dealing with shit. That's all my life is at this point. I put out one fire after another. Hopefully before the next one spreads too far to contain.

*She jolts forward as he trips, her hands outstretched, but she's not sure what her plan would have been if he actually fell. He outweighs her by at least seventy pounds, and all of it solid muscle. There wasn't much she could do to keep him standing if he went down.*

You ... you should sit. Before you fall down. *gestures to the couch*

And you need to sober up. Badly. Where the hell is your coffee-maker? *She scans the kitchen area, but it looks empty.* And when was the last time you ate something?

*Frank grunts as he plops down onto the couch*

I get my coffee at the coffee shop on the corner now... Basically the only time I leave the damn house, so I just keep doin it. It's cheap enough.

Food. Right.... What day if the week is it? Thursday?

*She's actually glad he admits to occasionally leaving the apartment. She knows him too well, knows how he holes up in a dark corner sometimes for months at a time. If that's what it takes for him to complete a mission.*

No, Frank. It's not Thursday.

*She sighs and goes to the kitchen, grabs a chipped black coffee mug from the cupboard and rinses it off, then fills it with water from the tap, brings it over to the couch and holds it out to him.*

Drink this. I can't talk to you much when you have enough alcohol in you that this apartment smells like a distillery. When you can walk without falling down, will you come with me down the street to the diner? We'll get some coffee and food in you?

*Frank stares at Karen a bit, suspicious almost, but in a sad kind of way*

... You're... Are you... Actually here...?

*he seems hesitant to ask the question, like he is afraid of the answer*

*She swallows down a curse. Yeah, it's obvious he's not well enough to appear in public at the moment. She should have guessed that.*

Yeah, Frank. I'm here.

*She carefully sits down next to him on the couch, the old springs pressing into her back, still holding the glass of water that he didn't take. She looks at his glassy eyes.*

I'm right here.

*She lifts her free hand and gently places it on his shoulder, keeping her movements slow so she doesn't startle him.*

*Frank relaxes a fraction and slowly takes the mug of water, using both hands. Shit, his one hand is busted up and it is easy to see there is a fost-shaoed hole in his wall. He mumbles something*

... You said you were real last time too... I bet I'll try to drink this water and it'll be air... Fuck.

*he takes a sip and he almost startles at the cold water, anybody else wouldn't be able to tell, but this close to Frank (both emotionally and physically), Karen can tell*

*She frowns in concern.* Last time...? But I haven't... Oh, Frank. *She resists the urge to pull him into a hug. She doesn't know what is haunting him, but this is the worst she's seen him in a long while.*

*She gives him a minute of silence to rest and hopefully clear his head before she speaks again.* Feeling any better...?

*Frank takes a deep breath and then nods*

Yeah, Karen. Cold water... It helps some.

*Frank grits his teeth and winces slightly*

Could ya... Could ya grab me some pain killers? Should be a bottle beside your side of the couch.

*they are there. But... Those are prescription painkillers. Where the hell is he getting those, because she knows damn well he is not going to see a doctor*

*She reaches over and grabs the small bottle with her eyes still on Frank. Only when she holds them out to him does she glance down at the label.*

*She sucks in a breath between her teeth.* That's some strong stuff. Did you get hurt on a job?

*Frank paused and thought for a second, taking the bottle*

... Somthin like that...

*he chucks about 3 or 4 into his mouth and crunches down on them and chugs the rest of his water*

*She visibly winces at the sound.* That can't taste good. They're made for swallowing you know.

They work faster if ya bite em. Usually wash em down with beer so I don't taste it much.

Frank... *gentle knocking on his door. The hour is much too late for visitors, but she knows he's awake.*

Are you okay? I heard .. well, I heard you might not be.

@karenpage-journalist

*she hears some shuffling and bottles clinking, then the door unlocks. It sounds like there is 3 locks on the door. He opens it.*

... Karen...? You. You actually here?

*Frank is definitely drunk*

Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. *She keeps her voice gentle. Frank looks bad.*

Can I come in? Before you scare your neighbors.

Shit. Yeah. Good thinkin.

*Frank walks back into his apartment. It looks very basic a kitchen and a bigger room. It is mostly empty save for a couch that looks like it's been there for ages, a mini fridge, a tote, and both guns and empty bottles litter the floor in piles*

*Karen steps into the apartment after him, her worry deepening. He's always been very careful to keep his weapons cleaned and organized, usually on tables or hung on the walls. This looks more like a hole to hide in than an apartment to live in.*

You've been going through some things, I take it? *She sounds concerned rather than accusatory.*

Wanna talk about it?

You.... All that shit... With daredevil. You went through that not too long ago... Don't wanna pile on my shit too. It's fine. I'll be-

*He trips, almost falling because he's drunk, very uncharacteristic of the man*

I'll be fine.

*he turns to the couch like somthing caught his attention and keeps it for a few seconds, before frank grumbles and turns back to Karen*

Sorry about the mess. Didn't expect no company.

*She gives a light laugh, but it has a brittle undercurrent.* Frank, I'm used to dealing with shit. That's all my life is at this point. I put out one fire after another. Hopefully before the next one spreads too far to contain.

*She jolts forward as he trips, her hands outstretched, but she's not sure what her plan would have been if he actually fell. He outweighs her by at least seventy pounds, and all of it solid muscle. There wasn't much she could do to keep him standing if he went down.*

You ... you should sit. Before you fall down. *gestures to the couch*

And you need to sober up. Badly. Where the hell is your coffee-maker? *She scans the kitchen area, but it looks empty.* And when was the last time you ate something?

*Frank grunts as he plops down onto the couch*

I get my coffee at the coffee shop on the corner now... Basically the only time I leave the damn house, so I just keep doin it. It's cheap enough.

Food. Right.... What day if the week is it? Thursday?

*She's actually glad he admits to occasionally leaving the apartment. She knows him too well, knows how he holes up in a dark corner sometimes for months at a time. If that's what it takes for him to complete a mission.*

No, Frank. It's not Thursday.

*She sighs and goes to the kitchen, grabs a chipped black coffee mug from the cupboard and rinses it off, then fills it with water from the tap, brings it over to the couch and holds it out to him.*

Drink this. I can't talk to you much when you have enough alcohol in you that this apartment smells like a distillery. When you can walk without falling down, will you come with me down the street to the diner? We'll get some coffee and food in you?

*Frank stares at Karen a bit, suspicious almost, but in a sad kind of way*

... You're... Are you... Actually here...?

*he seems hesitant to ask the question, like he is afraid of the answer*

*She swallows down a curse. Yeah, it's obvious he's not well enough to appear in public at the moment. She should have guessed that.*

Yeah, Frank. I'm here.

*She carefully sits down next to him on the couch, the old springs pressing into her back, still holding the glass of water that he didn't take. She looks at his glassy eyes.*

I'm right here.

*She lifts her free hand and gently places it on his shoulder, keeping her movements slow so she doesn't startle him.*

*Frank relaxes a fraction and slowly takes the mug of water, using both hands. Shit, his one hand is busted up and it is easy to see there is a fost-shaoed hole in his wall. He mumbles something*

... You said you were real last time too... I bet I'll try to drink this water and it'll be air... Fuck.

*he takes a sip and he almost startles at the cold water, anybody else wouldn't be able to tell, but this close to Frank (both emotionally and physically), Karen can tell*

*She frowns in concern.* Last time...? But I haven't... Oh, Frank. *She resists the urge to pull him into a hug. She doesn't know what is haunting him, but this is the worst she's seen him in a long while.*

*She gives him a minute of silence to rest and hopefully clear his head before she speaks again.* Feeling any better...?

*Frank takes a deep breath and then nods*

Yeah, Karen. Cold water... It helps some.

*Frank grits his teeth and winces slightly*

Could ya... Could ya grab me some pain killers? Should be a bottle beside your side of the couch.

*they are there. But... Those are prescription painkillers. Where the hell is he getting those, because she knows damn well he is not going to see a doctor*

*She reaches over and grabs the small bottle with her eyes still on Frank. Only when she holds them out to him does she glance down at the label.*

*She sucks in a breath between her teeth.* That's some strong stuff. Did you get hurt on a job?

*Frank paused and thought for a second, taking the bottle*

... Somthin like that...

*he chucks about 3 or 4 into his mouth and crunches down on them and chugs the rest of his water*

Frank... *gentle knocking on his door. The hour is much too late for visitors, but she knows he's awake.*

Are you okay? I heard .. well, I heard you might not be.

@karenpage-journalist

*she hears some shuffling and bottles clinking, then the door unlocks. It sounds like there is 3 locks on the door. He opens it.*

... Karen...? You. You actually here?

*Frank is definitely drunk*

Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. *She keeps her voice gentle. Frank looks bad.*

Can I come in? Before you scare your neighbors.

Shit. Yeah. Good thinkin.

*Frank walks back into his apartment. It looks very basic a kitchen and a bigger room. It is mostly empty save for a couch that looks like it's been there for ages, a mini fridge, a tote, and both guns and empty bottles litter the floor in piles*

*Karen steps into the apartment after him, her worry deepening. He's always been very careful to keep his weapons cleaned and organized, usually on tables or hung on the walls. This looks more like a hole to hide in than an apartment to live in.*

You've been going through some things, I take it? *She sounds concerned rather than accusatory.*

Wanna talk about it?

You.... All that shit... With daredevil. You went through that not too long ago... Don't wanna pile on my shit too. It's fine. I'll be-

*He trips, almost falling because he's drunk, very uncharacteristic of the man*

I'll be fine.

*he turns to the couch like somthing caught his attention and keeps it for a few seconds, before frank grumbles and turns back to Karen*

Sorry about the mess. Didn't expect no company.

*She gives a light laugh, but it has a brittle undercurrent.* Frank, I'm used to dealing with shit. That's all my life is at this point. I put out one fire after another. Hopefully before the next one spreads too far to contain.

*She jolts forward as he trips, her hands outstretched, but she's not sure what her plan would have been if he actually fell. He outweighs her by at least seventy pounds, and all of it solid muscle. There wasn't much she could do to keep him standing if he went down.*

You ... you should sit. Before you fall down. *gestures to the couch*

And you need to sober up. Badly. Where the hell is your coffee-maker? *She scans the kitchen area, but it looks empty.* And when was the last time you ate something?

*Frank grunts as he plops down onto the couch*

I get my coffee at the coffee shop on the corner now... Basically the only time I leave the damn house, so I just keep doin it. It's cheap enough.

Food. Right.... What day if the week is it? Thursday?

*She's actually glad he admits to occasionally leaving the apartment. She knows him too well, knows how he holes up in a dark corner sometimes for months at a time. If that's what it takes for him to complete a mission.*

No, Frank. It's not Thursday.

*She sighs and goes to the kitchen, grabs a chipped black coffee mug from the cupboard and rinses it off, then fills it with water from the tap, brings it over to the couch and holds it out to him.*

Drink this. I can't talk to you much when you have enough alcohol in you that this apartment smells like a distillery. When you can walk without falling down, will you come with me down the street to the diner? We'll get some coffee and food in you?

*Frank stares at Karen a bit, suspicious almost, but in a sad kind of way*

... You're... Are you... Actually here...?

*he seems hesitant to ask the question, like he is afraid of the answer*

*She swallows down a curse. Yeah, it's obvious he's not well enough to appear in public at the moment. She should have guessed that.*

Yeah, Frank. I'm here.

*She carefully sits down next to him on the couch, the old springs pressing into her back, still holding the glass of water that he didn't take. She looks at his glassy eyes.*

I'm right here.

*She lifts her free hand and gently places it on his shoulder, keeping her movements slow so she doesn't startle him.*

*Frank relaxes a fraction and slowly takes the mug of water, using both hands. Shit, his one hand is busted up and it is easy to see there is a fost-shaoed hole in his wall. He mumbles something*

... You said you were real last time too... I bet I'll try to drink this water and it'll be air... Fuck.

*he takes a sip and he almost startles at the cold water, anybody else wouldn't be able to tell, but this close to Frank (both emotionally and physically), Karen can tell*

*She frowns in concern.* Last time...? But I haven't... Oh, Frank. *She resists the urge to pull him into a hug. She doesn't know what is haunting him, but this is the worst she's seen him in a long while.*

*She gives him a minute of silence to rest and hopefully clear his head before she speaks again.* Feeling any better...?

*Frank takes a deep breath and then nods*

Yeah, Karen. Cold water... It helps some.

*Frank grits his teeth and winces slightly*

Could ya... Could ya grab me some pain killers? Should be a bottle beside your side of the couch.

*they are there. But... Those are prescription painkillers. Where the hell is he getting those, because she knows damn well he is not going to see a doctor*

So what's your body count, Frank?

@bstandsforbabydaddy

Depends on which one you're talkin about.

*Frank chuckles to himself a little*

Well I meant the shooty one but you welcome to share both.

47. I remember every one.

Not sharin who I sleep with in the same timeframe. That'd be disrespectful to the dead. Even if each and every one deserves it...

Damn. Maybe you should cultivate a more deserving crowd.

That's a lotta kills though.

*all frank does is nod, pulling up his hood more. His eyes dart to an empty space of the wall, but he quickly looks away*

Whatsamatter, Frank? Having a moment of silence for the dead?

*Frank huffs air from his nose that is almost a laugh*

Somthin like that.

*he looks back at the empty space from before for a few second and rolls his eyes*

Ghosts got your tongue?

*He eyes the spot Frank is looking at with suspicion.*

*Frank shakes his own head a bit, like shaking off water from his hair. Then he looks back to Peter*

Dammit. What'd you say?

I SAID are you seeing ghosts? Or just talking to them? Where's your brain at, Castle?

Ghosts aren't fuckin real. I ain't seen nobody. Just... Spacin out. Yeah.

So what's your body count, Frank?

@bstandsforbabydaddy

Depends on which one you're talkin about.

*Frank chuckles to himself a little*

Well I meant the shooty one but you welcome to share both.

47. I remember every one.

Not sharin who I sleep with in the same timeframe. That'd be disrespectful to the dead. Even if each and every one deserves it...

Damn. Maybe you should cultivate a more deserving crowd.

That's a lotta kills though.

*all frank does is nod, pulling up his hood more. His eyes dart to an empty space of the wall, but he quickly looks away*

Whatsamatter, Frank? Having a moment of silence for the dead?

*Frank huffs air from his nose that is almost a laugh*

Somthin like that.

*he looks back at the empty space from before for a few second and rolls his eyes*

Ghosts got your tongue?

*He eyes the spot Frank is looking at with suspicion.*

*Frank shakes his own head a bit, like shaking off water from his hair. Then he looks back to Peter*

Dammit. What'd you say?