out of sorts

Frankie Calhoun || 27 || Investigative Journalist

[frankie-calhoun]

foxythiefcal:

Cal frowned when Frankie assumed his compliment wasn’t sincere. “I assure you, it’s not. I don’t lie about things like that. I do like the sound of your voice, love. Yes, you have a stutter, but that hardly takes away from the rich tone of it.” It was important that Frankie believe him because Cal was always sincere in his compliments, whatever else he was. It was cruel not to be. There was no pity in it, either, he just wanted to keep flirting and half of that was making the other person feel good and wanted. 

At least Frankie laughed a moment later, even if it was kind of at Cal. Regardless, it was nice to see and hear.. “Indeed. Quite well, most of the time.” Cal did have a high success rate, after all, though he smiled to show he wasn’t offended. They made eye contact again and Cal inclined his head slightly at the return compliment. “Thank you. I do try.” The next thing Frankie said was somewhat unexpected but very much to Cal’s liking. “Certainly. Where would you like to go?” He took another sip of his drink, needing to get rid of it a little faster now if they were going to be leaving so soon. 

Frankie reddened when the man called him out on his being an asshole. Frankie was definitely not immune to it, and he felt like a jerk when Cal insisted on the compliment. Sighing and running a hand through his hair, he shrugged. “S-sorry. I guess I’m, um, I’m just not used to t-t-taking compliments. Haven’t got any in a while.” He paused. Now it sounded like he pitied himself. Which he did slightly, but he never wanted people to know he did. “L-look, not that I’m asking for them. C-can we start over?” He winced at himself. This was why messenger apps existed, people.

“Uh, maybe outside? It’s just, ah, just a lot of people in here. H-hard to...carry a c-c-conversation.” He smiled again, hoping that Cal would accept. Clubs were really not Frankie’s thing, and the whole time he’d been on edge at the constant loud noise and people passing by. “Or, um, this is fine too. Wh-whatever is good for you.”

[frankie-calhoun]

cassieontop:

“I absolutely know what you mean.” She nodded, giving an over dramatic wink to signify her understanding that this was something far more interesting than comments on clothes, decor and how wonderful the rich were. Her thoughts of Frankie would have probably gone down if that’s the kind of thing he wanted to write. “Colour me intrigued,” she laughed, coming to stand by his side and face the same direction, looking around like she’d figure it out by looking. “You’ll have to let me in the loop when you publish I suppose.”

Cassie looked up at him (despite the heels) and gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, you’re so sweet.” She looped her arm around his, as f this was a date and not entirely forward when he went bashful over everything. “And you look very handsome. Not that you didn’t before.” She copied playfully, just to remind him that he’d done nothing wrong. “

“Yeah, um, ‘course I will.” Guilt twisted his stomach slightly at lying to Cassie, but he knew that she would think of him differently if he revealed he was a Calhoun to her. He wanted her to think of him as only Frankie the reporter, not Frankie the Calhoun who was, like it or not, part of one of the biggest families in Vegas. Not that he necessarily got to claim that anymore, but that was a different discussion.

“Well, um, w-well...thanks,” he said, trying to be brave as he met her eyes briefly even as he secured her to his side. Confidence was key, right? That’s what he had already read about. “H-have you tried the - “ He was stopped dead, mid sentence, as he saw one of his mother’s close friends. She’d known her for years, and she would recognize Frankie immediately. “Let’s, ah, um, let’s go this way,” he said, attempting to lead Cassie into the next room.

[frankie-calhoun]

foxythiefcal:

“Whyever not? You have a lovely voice.” Which was true, in spite of the stutter. There was a nice tone to it and it wasn’t in any way unpleasant to listen to. Frankie seemed to think he’d made some sort of faux pas by admitting that and Cal would’ve asked why but the other man seemed to want to ignore it, fidgeted a little and sipped his drink, so Cal just left it alone. 

Frankie seemed to have missed what Cal was implying, which just amused him a little. “I can’t blame you for that.” He agreed. Franklin was not a particularly flattering name. “But what about love? Or darling?” He raised an eyebrow, figuring being a little more obvious was best with him. If he hadn’t thought it would scare him off, Cal would’ve said ‘hopefully you’ in response to the question but figured that might be a little too bold and obvious for how unsure Frankie seemed about some things. He didn’t want to fluster him too much, after all. “Looking for good company, mostly, which I seem to have already found.” There, that was a less obvious way of basically saying the same thing he’d wanted to say. 

“Now th-that’s, um, th-that’s just lying,” Frankie said, looking down at the table. He didn’t want to be toyed with; it was his own perception of himself that was shot to pieces. For the most part, he was fine with it (did anyone really like themselves?”), but he didn’t like it when he felt like people were humoring him because of pity. Finding a napkin, he began to shred it into little pieces before looking back up at Cal. He couldn’t lie, he thought the other man was attractive, but the conversation was exhausting him mentally already.

“D-darling?” Frankie laughed, perhaps the loudest he’d been all conversation. “Does that, um, d-d-does that ever really work for you?” The question was a little pointed, but Frankie dared to meet the other’s eyes for a moment as he quirked his eyebrows. “Well, you, um...you seem n-nice,” he admitted. A pause, then a sudden burst of courage. “Maybe if you w-w-want to talk, we could go somewhere a little less noisy?”

[frankie-calhoun]

cassieontop:

“Probably not, a lot of these people are too self absorbed to notice anything that doesn’t relate to them.” She’d dealt with men like that at the club, asking her for advice about their daughters her age because they couldn’t figure out the most obvious problems. Or women who thought their married-into money made them any more important than the rest of them. Mostly it irritated her because bar Frankie, no one was focused on her and a lonely feeling and sunken in.

“A puff piece then?” Cassie asked, of course she didn’t know anything about his work but he’d mentioned investigative reporter last time and she couldn’t help but wonder if something sinister was going on behind the scenes. “But at least it got you in here, even if it’s only to talk to me in a fancier setting.” The brunette toyed with him, playful smirk hanging on her lips. “Oh don’t worry, they’re totally my thing. Well, sort of. Mine are usually a hell of a lot less expensive than this.”

“That’s, um, th-th-that’s fine with me,” Frankie said with a nervous laugh. He didn’t want to be noticed at all. “Makes it easier to get the r-r-real stuff done, you know what I, um, what I mean?” And by real stuff tonight, he meant reconnaissance. He wondered briefly what Cassie would think if it came out that he was a Calhoun - perhaps not directly part of the management of the party tonight, but definitely a part of the proceedings regardless of whether or not he’d been around. That was, if his identity became known, something he definitely didn’t want.

“Hah, not quite,” he chuckled. “It’s, um...i-it’s sort of a personal pro-project,” he admitted after a moment. A drink helped settle his nerves, and he even smiled at her remark. “Well, I’m gl-glad for that at least. You look, um, you look very nice by the way. Not that you didn’t look nice before, just...” Frankie colored. Of course he’d manage to say something dumb within like, two minutes of conversation.

[frankie-calhoun]

remykeo:

“Aw.” Remy pulled a small sympathetic frown. As much as she enjoyed the chaos of a good party herself, she always gravitated to those who weren’t having fun, hoping to cheer them up. She glanced down at the glass, now emptied, and dropped it gently on a passing waiter’s tray. “Oh, no worries, I’m sure another will be along soon enough.” She stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Remy. You alright? What’s on your mind?”

“S-s-sorry again,” Frankie said, really feeling bad even if she didn’t seem to be angry with him. Just being here was already throwing him off slightly, but when she introduced herself, he smiled at at her and shook her hand firmly. “Frankie. And I’m, uh, f-f-fine. It’s a, it’s a speech thing. Knocked my, um, head up a bit b-b-back in Iraq,” he offered as an explanation.

[frankie-calhoun]

aidencalhoun:

The night was going on without a hitch. Money was being thrown around both for charitable reasons and for profit. The crowd upstairs were eating the entire event up, press clamoring over the various high profile guests who were signing checks for a good cause. Downstairs, those same people were wasting away their savings on various indulgences. As Aiden lingered around the main party since it was only a matter of time before the Calhoun family gathered around for speeches and photos, he was nursing a drink at a cocktail table when he spots a face he hasn’t seen in years.

It was hard not to notice Frankie—-his older brother large in stature that he sticks out like a sore thumb. Aiden had eyes and ears everywhere, he knew Franklin was back in town but he made no attempts to make contact. If Franklin didn’t want to see him, then he wasn’t going to bother. The second Franklin practically abandoned the family, his intentions were clear. “You lost?” His words are cold as he takes a sip from his glass, raising a brow. “Thought you were too good for these things and wouldn’t be caught dead at one.”

“No, I came here on p-p-purpose,” he stammered. He wished he could sink into the ground - which in all fairness, wasn’t unusual for Frankie. This had been a terrible idea and it was catching up to him. “I just...I wanted to see how everyone was, how everyone was d-d-doing.” It was clear that Aiden’s reaction wasn’t the same as Felicity’s. What could he expect, though?

Unsure of what to do with his hands, he shoved them in the pockets of his suit jacket. Looking between the floor and his brother rapidly, it took him a bit to get out his next words. “I haven’t seen you i-i-in a while. It’s, um, it’s m-my fault, but...” He licked his lips, took a deep breath. “I hope you’re okay.”

[frankie-calhoun]

What do you look for in a romantic or sexual partner?

“Ah, um...th-that they exist?”

“Just, um, someone, just someone who’s patient. I haven’t really b-b-been in a relationship, or...y’know, f-f-for a while now.”

[frankie-calhoun]

foxythiefcal:

“Indeed. I take full ownership of them.” Cal rarely regretted what he said, unless it had the unintentional effect of hurting someone. Most of them time, though, he was generally playful or flirtatious and very few people seemed to take offense to that. Cal pretty much flirted with everyone he deemed worthy of such attention, which seemed to be nearly everyone in Vegas, so he was incredibly comfortable with it. “No?” Cal’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Often struck speechless, are you?” Another light tease, but the other man hadn’t seemed to react badly the first time so Cal saw no reason to stop. 

“You’re most welcome.” Cal grinned and took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving the other man who introduced himself as Frankie. He almost gave his last name and seemed to think better of it, which intrigued Cal but he didn’t ask, at least not yet. Instead, he asked a different question. “A pleasure to meet you. Is there anything else I can call you, I wonder?” His tone shifted slightly as his eyebrows went up again, leaning forward a little. 

“No, usually I just d-d-don’t talk anyway,” he admitted, then immediately regretted it. Frankie was awful at conversation, that much was apparent. He didn’t need to admit it. He wanted to say something else, and he looked over at Cal but let the silence linger for a moment too long for it to be natural. He covered it up by at first reaching to mess with his sleeve, and then he took a sip of his soda, relieved when the other man continued to speak. 

“Uh, Fr-frankie works. Only so many, um, so many nicknames you can use for Fr-fr-franklin. And no one really wants to be called, ah-ah, Franklin.” He smiled, hoping to steer it back on track. “So what are you, um, y-you doing tonight? Besides y’know, d-dancing and all that...”

[frankie-calhoun]

cassieontop:

Having left Percy fairly quickly in the company of some guy that was hopefully rich and not simply faking it like they were, Cassie was left on her own. She’d never been one to mind space, but this event had so many that pretty women that competed with herself that her mood was dropping. Plus she hadn’t been willing to spend a bomb on some 20s dress she’d never wear again on an event she might not get into, which felt like a bad idea now.

As she slipped through a gap in the crowd, she nabbed a champagne flute from some guy and decided that she needed to grab someone who wanted to spend time making her feel wanted. She walked by, figuring the best place to start was around the tables where some people were congregating, away from the big crowd.

Her attention was pulled from the side, glancing when her name was called and replying with a bright smile. “Frankie!” She came towards him, pleased with the powers that be for handing her what she wanted on a plate. “Well, keep it a secret, but I’m not supposed to be.” Her smile was mischievous as she hinted at her blagging her way through the front door. “Are you here doing a story?” She asked, sipping her drink.

Frankie colored slightly, pleased to see her regardless of his being very self conscious. This all seemed like a terrible idea, but maybe he’d feel a little better if he made an effort to fit in. At least give it a shot...maybe he could see his parents from a distance. He didn’t believe that they’d enjoy seeing him, at least not impromptu like this. Mom especially wouldn’t like such a wrench being thrown into her plans for the evening. Better to be inconvenienced when the family reputation wasn’t on the line.

“Hah, well, I’m sure no one minds. Or, um, or n-n-noticed, probably,” he laughed nervously. “A story?” He blinked, looking down at the press pass hanging from his neck. He grabbed and fiddled with it anxiously for a moment, shaking his head. “Uh, s-sure. Just, um, just looking around. To s-sseee what’s up.” He shoved his hands in his coat pocket, shaking his head and exhaling. “S-sorry. Big events like this aren’t, um, a-a-aren’t really my thing. Usually leave that t-to, um, to the life section reporters.”

[frankie-calhoun]

STARTER || CASSIE MORGAN (@cassieontop)

Sneaking in was one thing - keeping incognito was another. There was more than one person who could recognize him - he’d counted himself fortunate to have come away from war without any horrible scars (not that he hadn’t paid for it in other ways), but right now, he wished he was unrecognizable. After nearly running into one of his father’s oldest friends, Frankie decided that he needed to take a little break.

Wearing a tweed suit, bowler hat, and a special lapel pin (Labelled “Veteran”, it had been given to him as a gift from a coworker at his old paper), he blended in fairly well with the bunches of other men who were wearing similar outfits. Frankie’s own clothing was far less ornate than what he imagined his parents were wearing, but he didn’t mind. It was hard to consider himself a “real” Calhoun, even as every minute he spent in this place threatened to expose him as such.

Having grabbed a drink from a waiter passing by, he was sipping it nervously (but slowly, trying to pace himself so he didn’t drink too much) when he saw a familiar face that wasn’t one he wanted to avoid. It was the very pretty girl from the other day, the one who had even flirted with him despite how idiotic Frankie thought he acted in front of her.

“Cassie,” he said, smile tinged with relief. ‘I, um, I d-d-didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

[frankie-calhoun]

STARTER || AIDEN CALHOUN (@aidencalhoun)

Franklin Calhoun did not take much pride in his name - it wasn’t that he was ashamed, per se, but he didn’t like the attention it brought upon him in Vegas. The Calhouns were a big deal, and Frankie preferred the low-key identity he’d cultivated for himself. Tonight was one of the biggest nights for his family, the charity gala being something he remembered being planned for months before anything actually happened. Every instinct in his brain had told him to stay away, but somehow, he’d found himself grabbing his old press pass (with some creative fudging on his last name) and sneaking in one of the side entrances. Old habits died hard, and he still remembered his family’s haunt well.

Avoiding the main areas where people congregated was a good strategy - at least to start with. Eventually, though, curiosity once again drove him past his comfort zone, and he edged closer inward towards the groups of people, all dressed in their best.

Of course, Frankie had never had good luck. Period. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he turned around, trying to avoid a woman in a particularly expensive looking dress, that he saw, unavoidably face to face, someone he hadn’t seen but only in his social media profiles: his brother Aiden. It was too late to run, and as he met his brother’s intense gaze Frankie couldn’t help but pale, standing frozen.

“Ah-ah-aiden,” he stammered, staring. “I, uh...I...”

[frankie-calhoun]

remykeo:

The Gala was the first event in ages that Remy could enjoy off the clock, without spending all her time in the shadow of some rich client. She was relaxed, mood as bubbly as the champagne in her glass. Scanning the crowd from the edge of the pool, she startled as someone knocked into her, but regained her balance. “Hey, watch out,” she said cheerfully. “If I fall into the pool, you’re coming with me.”

“A-and have an excuse to leave this, um, l-leave this place?” Frankie barked a quick, nervous laugh. “Pl-pl-please. And, um, and s-s-sorry. I’m kinda nervous. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to, um...hit you. D-dddid you need another glass?”

[frankie-calhoun]

wthfel:

Felicity smiled then, almost as if to calm him down. He wasn’t his nervous the last time she saw him and it hurt her heart a little, to see her big brother like this. All she wanted was to make him feel at ease, at least for now. She’d get mad him later, once she knew that he wasn’t going to run off again. Nodding, she took a seat at his table. 

She put her bag down next to her, waiting for Frankie to sit down before speaking. “Everyone’ll be super happy to see you. Channing hit a rough spot but she’s home and getting better now which is good. Damien’s running the company so he’s home too and Aiden is being well, Aiden.” She laughed then, shaking her head. Her laughter soon died off and she went silent. It wasn’t meant to be this awkward, or this painful. Conversation with her brother wasn’t meant to be like this.

Smiling back, he waited until she sat down. It was difficult to keep his hands still, and he absent-mindedly began to fiddle with the spoon anxiously, twirling it through his long fingers as he listened. “I’ve, um, I’ve a-actually been following everyone,” he admitted. “I f-f-felt bad for Channing, but I almost...I didn’t want to just pop o-out of the blue. Figured she would be m-mad...” He trailed off then. Damien being...well, Damien wasn’t news. He’d expected his oldest brother to take over everything, and the thought wasn’t without a note of bitterness. Aiden and he had never been the closest, but he did miss his brother and could only imagine what shenanigans he’d gotten himself into.

“Y-you know...I don’t th-think this makes it, um, any better, but I, um, better, but I k-kept up with you too.” He paused, took a deep breath to regain some control over his emotions and his speech. “I w-went and saw one of your shows. I almost w-waited for you after, but you s-ssseemed so happy and...I d-don’t know. I can’t think of the r-rrright word, but it’s where you belong. The stage. Y-you’re um, you’re really good,” he chuckled nervously.

[frankie-calhoun]

cassieontop:

“Yeah, I know, but I hate decisions like this. And law,” she sighed, “I just don’t know.” She eventually shrugged, he didn’t need to know how much she didn’t give a shit about what she was going into, or how boring she found it. “I’ll have to keep that in mind, I have to make the choice of specialty soon so. An article, so are you a reporter?” She pulled a face of uncertainty, spotting a line of pink dripping down the edge of her glass.

She caught it with her finger, dragged it back up and licked it from her fingertip. Had she been sat alone she’d have left it, but Cassie wanted him to look at her mouth and let his mind wander from there.

Cassie looked back to Frankie when the waitress left, with a ‘cat that got the cream’ smile. “I’m so right about her.” She pursed her lips at his question, eyes looking up while she thought. “I like dancing, obviously, and hanging out with my friends. I like rollerblading. Is it awful to say video games? It’s just mindless, y’know? But chill ones, good to wind down. What about you then, what do you like doing?”

“I’m sure you’ll, um, y-you’ll figure it out.” Frankie smiled at her, glad that she wasn’t touching him anymore. Not that he didn’t like it, but he still didn’t entirely buy that a camera crew wasn’t going to come out at any moment and announce he was being punk’d. “Uh, n-not really. Not, um, not on tv or anything.” A nervous laugh. “Obviously. I, um, I write news for o-online sources. Right now I’m fr-freelance, so working on a f-few different things.” He didn’t mention his main job of investigating the underground scene here in Vegas.

When she practically sucked on her finger, it was...well, impossible not to notice. Looking purposefully to the side, he suddenly appeared very interested in a stain on the wall - a stain that apparently made him turn a shade of red, and he only looked back when she started talking again. “Oh, um, th-that’s not too bad. G-gggames can be fun. Lots of guys fr-from the marines, from the m-marines like to play games. K-keeps their minds off things.” He paused, taking a moment to recover before he continued to speak. “Uh, I run. Work out. It’s h-hard to, um, t-to still still a lot.”

[frankie-calhoun]

brooks-brother-ollie:

“See? Look at you, you’ve got swerve! You’re a total ladykiller! I’m gonna have to take all your sloppy seconds, woe is me.” Ollie was selfish, and reckless, and fickle, but he was capable of being kind, mostly be refusing to acknowledge that anything should get in the way of having a good time, and bringing anyone along for the ride willing to hang on. “Hey, you don’t like being on top, I know all kindsa girls who will be happy to do all the hard work for you.” Impervious to anything that would get in the way of a dirty joke, he grinned and punched Frankie in the shoulder playfully. 

The image of Frankie and a whole bunch of swole dudes with buzzcuts and anger issues dancing to Wham! and Roxette was probably the best thing Frankie could’ve told him ever, and he was so busy laughing and trying to guess what songs were on the mixtapes to think of anywhere to drink right away, but he finally settled on The Cherry Bomb, because if they were gonna get wasted, they might as well get lapdances too. “I’ve got just the place, man. You’re gonna love it. Get in the car, let’s go do some crazy shit.”

“You c-c-can, um, c-can have them all,” Frankie offered bashfully. “I’m not - uh, I haven’t, y’know, uh...dated a-anyone in a while,” he said, suddenly losing a bit of his confidence as quickly as it had came. It was just part of the way he operated now, his mind occasionally turning on him and making him feel like the least worthy person in the entire room. “But it’ll b-bbbe fun to, um, to go out,” he said with a nod, shrugging at the mock punch. It was nice of Ollie to offer, but now Frankie was concerned about letting him down.

“A-alright. I’m game,” he said, nodding as he followed Ollie to the car. “B-before we, before we go, j-just gotta ask one thing. Um, my brother. How is h-he doing?” Aiden was...tricky. Frankie and he had never been the closest, but he still cared deeply for him, and he felt just as guilty for leaving him as he did the rest of their siblings.

[frankie-calhoun]

foxythiefcal:

At least he’d made the other man laugh, sort of. That was a promising sign. He definitely had a stutter, poor soul, but Cal prepared himself to be patient with him since he seemed somewhat like a fish out of water anyway, for all that he was waiting for someone. “Doesn’t seem surprising, does it?” Cal kept carrying it on, even if the other had been somewhat nonchalant. Cal found these kinds of things fun, after all, teasing and wordplay. 

“No? Pity. Well, at least you have me to keep you company now so it’s not a complete loss of an evening.” He grinned. “Cal Renard, at your service.” He gave a slight half bow, even from his seated position. 

“Y-your words, not mine,” Frankie said, another amused smile crossing his face. At least the man was amusing and good-looking; it had been too long since he’d flirted with a man, but he was slightly more comfortable with it regardless. With women, he felt like he had to take the lead, but when interacting with men there was more of a flexible dynamic with less-forced roles. “A-although if you’re going, um, going there, you’re n-not the first to make me like this.”

It was a slight relief that he was giving up on seeing Channing tonight. He would eventually, he knew, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. Apologizing to Felicity had been hard enough, and she was likely to be the most forgiving. “Well, um, well th-thank you for your k-kindness,” he teased back. “I;m, um, Fr-franklin Ca - y’know, yeah, y-you can call me Frankie.” He was used to introducing himself by his name in Chicago, but here in Vegas, he didn’t want to raise any eyebrows. 

[frankie-calhoun]

sophwills:

“Absolutely,” Soph said with a kind smile since the male seemed to be quite polite and appeared to be having trouble with his speech. It hadn’t taken her much to notice that this was probably something that happened quite frequently since he seemed to be highly focused on the words he attempted to say. Upon her return, she placed them in front of him and smiled. “These are on me tonight.”

“Th-thank you. I, ah, I apre-pre-preciate it,” he replied, grateful for the small bit of kindness she was showing him. It may not necessarily mean much for other people, but Frankie really did like it when people granted him patience. He pulled out a ten, more than enough for the drinks and a hefty tip for her, and passed it over when she brought out the glasses. “Oh, no, I c-couldn’t accept, but th-that’s very nice of you. I’m, um, I’m sure you’ve g-g-gone and earned it by now.”