@moondrenched // riff & frank
FRANK’S SEEMINGLY BEEN TALKING FOR YEARS NOW. The spindly man isn’t quite sure WHEN it was that he absolutely checked out -- minutes, days, weeks, months; it was all blending together anyways, this time on Earth -- but he’s sure it was some great LONG ago. Why his flamboyant master would feel the need to personally inform him of all of the details of THEIR creation after it was done being created was BEYOND him. Didn’t Frank KNOW that Riff couldn’t care less about the other’s thoughts and desires? Didn’t Frank know that Riff was, in a sense, just like him in wanting nothing to accomplish but his own tasks?
His elbow set FIRMLY on the table before him -- a table which also happened to house what they’d come to see as ROCKY, a current patchwork quilt of organs and skin -- and chin resting in the palm of his hand, the servant comes to realize that Frank has halted in his dialogue only because he’s waiting for a response. “Yes, Master.” He remarks idly, his half-lidded gaze flitting upward to READ the Doctor’s expression. Here’s hoping that’s the answer Frankie was looking for.
