( CLOSED ) Once in a lifetime.

[oorah]

WHO: Mayor Hotdog
WHERE: House 6
WHEN: A few days following the Crab Boil.
OPEN TO: Karen Page
WARNINGS: If awkward people trigger you, steer clear.

---

Frank hadn't been deliberately avoiding Karen, at least, not according to his own flawed logic. He had chosen the house directly across from hers because of the number affixed on its door and not for the proximity, though it would be a lie to say it didn't lend him peace of mind. It's early one morning and he's carrying a cord of wood back to his dwelling, as many as he can carry at a time. It's tedious work, but work he enjoys, stashing it outside in the yard while he watches the Sun come up. Everything here is so peaceful, and it makes him anxiously await when the other pin drops.

The hair raises on the back of his neck tellingly, like it had when he'd seen Jessica, except not taken to any type of extreme. Kamala thinks they're abilities of some sort, something that helps him sense and categorize danger, though he never had trouble with that before so why he needs an added sense is anyone's guess. He glances over his shoulder anyway, but it's only Aretha bounding up to him with Karen in tow. Frank puts down his task and crouches down to take an armful of the dog instead, rubbing her ears and belly simultaneously as she pants happily and licks his face in greeting. Slowly, his eyes flicker up to Karen's, warmth in their gaze. It's never bad to see her, no matter the context. But he has to wonder if the same is applied in the opposite; or if maybe she wishes he weren't here at all, especially in the shape he arrived and not at all the man she's used to.

"Hey, Karen." It's crackly and beyond soft - probably inaudible from where she's standing actually, but she'll have seen his lips form those words often enough to read them, he thinks. And if not, it's just one more thing for people to be angry at him about. Not like he isn't used to that too. After a moment with the bloodhound, he stands, teal scrub top poking out of the black jacket he'd found though he's wearing jeans tucked into found boots. There is one curious item she may not have noticed before: a brown leather bracelet on his right wrist seemingly braided by hand and spelling out the Celtic knot for 'leader' all the way around. She knows he isn't Irish and probably isn't adept at making bracelets, though, who knows with this guy am I right? In any case, she'd be right to assume it was a gift, in this instance twofold. He can still see it sitting on his kitchen table from where he'd taken it off for the first time since Beth made it for him - the day of the Mayoral results. He touches it now, idly, taking in Karen's face and trying to assess her mood.

Instead of staring at her overly long, as he is occasionally wont to do, he inclines his head back towards the house he's currently sharing with Kamala, his charge in Reims as well. She's still sleeping and he knows from experience she could sleep through a monster truck rally, so it shouldn't be an issue to have some tea with Karen while the teen dreams on a floor above their heads. The second he opens the door, Aretha barrels through it and he gives her a half-hearted glance in warning. He's still working on her, but she'll be shipshape in no time. Frank wipes his feet on the mat and hesitates for the first step he knows will be the loudest; but then his boot taps against the hardwood and nothing terrible happens, so he follows it up with another and then another until he can beeline for the kitchen. Every wall is covered with detritus, taped and nailed up in strategic arrangement to cancel out the most noise.

Comments

[digging]

"Back home? Yeah, sure," Karen answers with a nod, her brow pinching. This isn't the segue she was expecting, but within five seconds of answering, it begins to dawn on her why Frank would ask.

They haven't really had anyone dangerous come out of the fountain yet, but that doesn't mean it couldn't happen. In her idle moments when she's less focused on the idea of how they're here, the general complacency of the group has certainly entered her mind.

"Was he with you?" She takes a step forward, ducking her head to better look him in the eye. "Frank, did he do something to you?"

[oorah]

It never is expected, but here they are. His eyes skitter away the second she confirms what he already knew. Jessica killing Kilgrave had made the papers, so of course Karen knew about it. He swallows dryly and tries to tamp down the way his heart races fearfully. He hates that he's scared of that coward of all fucking people. Reminding himself that he's immune, that he and Jessica could both dispatch of him if he came here, he pulls in a thready breath.

The question that comes next is worse, it digs under his skin and leaves him bereft all over again. Frank pushes out a huffing breath of laughter, though there's nothing amused about it. There's nothing funny about any of this, truth be told. Did he do something to you? What didn't Kilgrave do? He shakes his head anyway.

"It doesn't matter. If he comes here... Me and Jess are here, so he might." Brown eyes pierce blue again, a sudden spear of insistence. He can't hold eye contact, but he was never great at it. His gaze dances around again, and settles on her face, on and on back and forth. "He's got a score to settle."

[digging]

"That's bullshit, it matters," Karen insists, and steps back over to the table, pulling back a chair so she can sit beside him. "It matters to me, even if it doesn't matter to you." And if people had kept their powers in this other place, the place he just left, there's really no telling what Frank might have been made to do if everything Jessica had claimed was true.

"Look at me, okay?" Karen continues, leaning in, watching the way Frank's focus darts around, manic. "I'm not going to say this place is great. It's not great. It's actually a pretty big head-fuck. But if he comes here, out of that fountain, we'll deal with it."

[oorah]

Frank shakes his head, looking down at his hands again when she comes close. He's grateful to have her next to him again, but he also can hardly stand it - push and pull as ever. Fighting through the rolling discomfort in his midsection, his eyes snap up to lock on hers in an almost desperate move to obey, one hand clutching the other on the tabletop, thumb working worried lines into his palm.

"I can deal with it. Jessica made a serum, from her blood." He swallows, shrinking back a little though he holds her eyes. "Claire helped. The Claire I knew, yours doesn't remember."

[digging]

"Hey," Karen starts, and then reaches out to cover his hands with her own. "Hey. Nobody comes out of that fountain with any super powers or magic or whatever they used to have. Nobody, not ever. If he comes here, he dies. Okay? That's it. We'll take care of it." And if there's fallout, there's fallout.

"I've been here six months." She gives his hands a squeeze, her gaze steady. "Do you trust me?"

[oorah]

He frowns, looking down at her hands, but not shifting away. In fact, he scoots his chair across the floor so he can lean in a little, ignoring the terrible sound it makes.

"Of course I do." His gaze is much more even when it meets hers, from much closer this time. Karen wouldn't lie to him, and she wouldn't let him down. It's four months of gaslighting and trauma that have him so on edge, not her. He shouldn't have doubted her, but all the Natives ever wanted to do was give the guy a mansion and free run of that place. It didn't exactly inspire confidence. "If we kill him, he'll stay dead." That's all he needs to know, in order to get some peace.

[digging]

"Right," Karen manages with a little nod, voice tight. Just that little movement closer, that minor acknowlegement — They're a team, god damn it — is enough to strap emotion across her chest like a vise. She swallows hard, throat gone dry, and pulls in a slow breath.

"And if he comes back through the fountain after that, we kill him again. Deal?"

[oorah]

He could actually cry he's so relieved. Frank nods slowly, brows knitting together. "Yes. And the time after that." He'd been waiting so long for this vindication, for the support. His hands turn to hold onto hers from below. "Deal." The gratitude is palpable in his tone, looking deep into her eyes now without even the hint of a waver in his gaze.

[digging]

Karen nods again with a quick little jerk, her lips pressing together as she looks back at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. Her mouth opens, but she hesitates — There's always a vast gulf of things unsaid between them, and even now it's difficult to give any of it a voice.

"I'm glad you're here," she finally allows, still watching him, and squeezes his fingers. "Really glad."

[oorah]

A bit of the fear seeps back into his gaze, but he doesn't try to dispute her. He really needs to clear the air about that, doesn't he?

"I didn't think you would be. It's... I was just trying to get out of your way." Because he thought that's what she wanted, not because he didn't want to be around her. He's only realizing as he hears it how that sounds. "I'm dumb." At least he's somewhat self-aware?

[digging]

Karen finally looks away, a little duck of her head with a barely-there smile. "Maybe a little," she allows, and peeks back up at him. "Not that I'm doing much here to get out of the way of." Going on nature hikes and writing down what she finds; really critical work, that.

"You gonna tell me what's going on with the house?" she asks, and tips a glance to the flotsam-covered wall. "I'm assuming this isn't just a decor choice."

[oorah]

Some of the heaviness finally breaks up in his chest, and he looks at her even while she looks away. It's good that they're here together. She'd said so, right?

"Soundproofing," he answers immediately, realizing it only raises more questions a second later. It's his turn to look down, though he squeezes her hand at the same time. The crap on the walls is the only reason he's talking to her so easily now. He owes her more than one-word answers while he can give them. "Kilgrave wasn't the only dangerous thing in that place."

[digging]

Soundproofing. Karen looks back to him, her brow pinched as she mentally adds that puzzle piece to half a dozen others. There's still only a fraction of an image beginning to emerge, but she can start to see where they might fit together.

"What else?" she asks, ducking her head to catch his eye again.

[oorah]

It's impossible for him to deny the contact she seeks out, catching her eyes gamely and holding on.

"Monsters," he admits, pushing aside how juvenile it sounds. It had been the first word he'd uttered here, and every time he says it he sees them - their awful shambling bodies and terrible gnashing teeth. Their screams in fields of pure silence, shattering everything in their wake. He takes a sharp inhale, his eyes blowing open wider. He remembers, seeing them tear Kara apart, videos of them destroying the Natives' ancestors the same way. He suddenly looks pale. "Attracted to sound. Any sound, no matter how small."

Frank is always scared, but this is a new thing for Karen to behold. This is something that encapsulates him, the only thing in his life that's ever driven him to inaction. "Sound Eaters."

[digging]

"Hey," Karen repeats, the word a little breathless — She's seen him afraid before, but only ever on her own account, and there's always been a determination buffeting the fear. The look in his eyes now is just... hopeless.

She lets herself reach for him before she can think to rein herself in, letting go of his hand to press her own against the curve of his jaw. It's a lot; she knows it's a lot. But suddenly he's so far away and it's scaring her.

"You're here with me now. You're safe. Don't go back there."

[oorah]

He leans into her touch automatically, trying not to think about what that means as he leans his forehead against hers, on the very edge of his seat just so he can stay close because it's what they both need.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, Karen. Especially not back to that horrorshow." He can mean that because he has no control over it. Frank had left a lot of people behind that he cared about there, but they weren't Karen. And as much as he hates that he sucked Jess and Kamala into this place - if that's even how it works - at least he knows they're safe, too.

[digging]

Eyes falling closed, Karen pulls in a tremulous breath, her hand shifting to curl against the side of his neck. The skin beneath her fingertips feels impossibly warm, the soft beat of a pulse there to match the thrum of the one in her own ears. How strange that the scent of him is so familiar when they almost always keep each other at arm's length.

"Good," she whispers, more breath than word. "I need you here. Okay?"

/end scene

[oorah]

"Okay," he rasps softly, willing to soak in her strength yet again so he can face the day ahead. Just because she says she needs him, however, doesn't mean he'll be keen to believe it. He already knows he'll still keep his distance after this, until Karen forces him not to. There's always a breaking point between them, Frank can only hope this one won't be as dramatic as their last. He really doesn't have the energy for cornering a terrorist and escaping out an elevator shaft today. Maybe by the time he's ready to face this thing between them, he'll be built back up again enough to try.