𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑 @bestmarvin
Nancy’s house in the morning, it seems, is a flurry of activity. Her father is a whirlwind, on his way to work, and then Ned is there to whisk his brother away on some kind of early-morning adventure. Before long, Nancy herself is blowing by, headed to heaven only knows where. And, in a matter of fifteen minutes, the place has completely cleared out, save for Frank. When they’re working a case, it’s easy not to realize just how crowded it can get; everyone’s in their respective zone, focusing in on whatever the group needs. It’s nice, falling into the rhythm of know exactly what he’s doing. It’s less nice, once the case is closed and Frank realizes just how much of a fish out of water he is.
In the newly blissful quiet of the Drew’s kitchen, though, he can take a breath. He hears the door at the same time that the toaster dings and he huffs out a sigh, grabbing a slice of his lightly browned bread and heading toward the next onslaught of Riverside residents. There’s no onslaught, though, just a singular resident, this time.
“Morning,” he says, a little perplexed to see Bess on her own. In the context of their usual conversations, she’s usually with George. Nancy’s definitely always there. Or Joe. Ned, even. It’s not weird, per se. It’s just out of the norm. “You just missed everybody else. Joe and Ned are... somewhere. And Nancy’s doing, y’know. Something.” He’d pay either of them fifty dollars, if they could materialize through the floor, call him awkward, and break up this self-made tension.
“I’m not a great detective, first thing in the morning,” he tells her, clearing his throat and pointing at his pajama pants. “Do you want some coffee?”
