#frank 007

[aureus-meles]

@franknlong

Hey, Franklin. Franksy. Frankamuffin. Frankenstein. Frankaman. Frankster. Sorry, I’m stalling. [ he takes a deep breath and shakes his head ] I kinda’ just need a hug or a drink or something and I didn’t know where else to go. Can I come in?

[totallyrad-tilden]

until the other shoe drops // f.l.

@ingenue-loqui

Tilden didn’t want to move. Actually, no, she wanted to move. She wanted to run, she wanted to get up out of here and scream as loudly as she could. She wanted to do anything, absolutely anything, but sit here and patiently wait for the healers to finish patching her up. 

Most of them knew her, knew that she was nice and sweet and always enthusiastic, even when it was difficult to be. What they did not know her to be, however, was a fighter, so it surprised the healer whose hand she smacked away from her so much that the woman dropped the bottle of dittany she’d been holding, and it bounced on Tilden’s bedsheets. 

“I want to see Benjy,” she insisted, again, holding her little hands in fists in her lap and trying not to scream. She was freaking out, and she felt like any second, she was going to just explode. “I want to see Benjy, where is he?”

The face that greeted her when the door opened was not Benjy, but it was one she hadn’t realized how badly she’d wanted to see until he was standing there. “Frank!” She tried to jump up from her bed and was all but tossed back down onto the mattress by one of the healers. 

“Stop doing that,” the man said, sounding just about done with his patience. It was not something Tilden heard often, especially not directed towards her. She looked back at Frank, half scared he wouldn’t come in and half scared he would.