( OPEN & CLOSED ) So you say you wanna get away.

[oorah]

WHO: MAYOR HOTDOG
WHERE: AROUND
WHEN: JULY
OPEN TO: Everyone! with specific prompts for Kira, Karen, Kamala - the second prompt I'm willing to do up to 3x if anyone wants Frank to save them!
WARNINGS: dog talkin and lightning strikes and dad vibes tbh

---

( JULY 6-7: CLOSED TO KIRA & KAREN )

At the first thunder crack overhead that morning, he already feels like he's late for "work." In Reims he would have been wrapping up his patrol and immediately begun soundproofing with Tetora. He looks around at the rudimentary job Bucky and himself had done in his house and sighs. Living as a scared recluse with a teenaged ward is probably not the answer for surviving this place, but maybe today of all days isn't the time to correct it. Or maybe that's an excuse, too.

Frank pulls his hood up and makes his way out into the fray, not entirely sure where the day will take him, but he knows he can't hang around and do nothing all day either. Not on a beautiful rain-day such as this. His first step is Mark and Kira's house where he goes to pick up Aurora. No one but the dog is home and he summons her out into the storm though he knows she isn't the biggest fan of rain. Max hadn't been either, at first, but once she's outside he knows she'll do fine. And it's easier than it should be to convince her, really, encouraging her in a soft tone until they've both cleared the porch.

From there they head straight on into the woods to do some exploring, maybe not the most productive use of the Mayor's time, but maybe here he doesn't have to be everything to everyone. He would actually much prefer being nothing to everyone though perhaps at first that wasn't the case - now he just wants to disappear. At least for a little while. He comes to a clearing with several big, sturdy treehouses and looks up at them as he remembers his treehouse hideaway in Reims. How is it possible to miss a place so much and yet be so grateful that he's never going back?

A bright bolt of lightning shoots across the sky and he opens his mouth in a gasp, Aurora transfixed by it too. Maybe they should take cover for a little while before venturing back out. Just off the path ahead is a cave with a low-slung entrance. They could at least get dry for a bit and maybe have a snack. The shepherd grins up at him suddenly as if he'd said the snack part aloud. She's such a strange dog...

Frank has to hunch down to fit through the entrance of the cavern, looking around to make sure it's safe. Aurora begins running excited circles around him as he swings his pack off his shoulder to open it and find the bone he'd brought her. While his back is turned, he hears something he could swear is - Karen's laugh? Just as he looks up to assure himself he's hearing things, another loud crack sounds from just outside, followed by a terrifying boom as the rain redoubles its efforts to drown the surrounding area. A thick, rotted oak tree falls with a slap into the mud, perfectly covering their route to escape.

( OPEN TO KAMALA + UP TO 2 OTHERS )

The rain is constant and cold today, coming down like a sheet in the middle of the field he finds himself in. There are little blue flowers arranged sporadically all around the area and something about it sets his teeth on edge. It's like when he first ran into Jessica at the Crab Boil, the hair on the back of his neck and arms raising even as the water tries to mat it down. Something's coming, something he isn't going to like.

He spots the person belatedly, wondering why he didn't see them sooner, but rain is in his eyes and ears and dulling his senses no matter how used to being out in the din he is. It's almost like seeing a vision a few moments into the future, feeling his body seize in inexplicable fear. Before he can register what's happening, he's diving forward and tackling the figure to the ground, shielding them with his own body as a single bolt of lightning strikes down, glancing off the edge of his boot.

His heart is hammering in his chest as he rolls off the person before he can crush them with his considerable bulk, not noticing they had landed directly in a patch of those mysterious flowers. "Are you okay?" he gruffs, trying not to think about how close that was, or the fact that without his newly given powers, they might both be extra crispy right now.

( OPEN TO ALL · listen to the waves )

Frank has acquired a few more... friends today. His usual faithful sidekicks are here with him, of course, Aurora the wild German Shepherd and Aretha the lazy bloodhound, but there are four more where that came from. The two Corgi dogs that had made an appearance at the Crab Boil, a sheepdog and a Husky-mutt are all following Frank dutifully as he makes his way through the fields, tending to the gardens in the light, consistent rain of the afternoon. The Sun is peeking through the clouds stubbornly, creating a truly perfect day in his eyes. Though he's slowly breaking himself of his silent existence, the rain makes it easier to acclimate. Even the soft noise of the gentle pitter-patter today is enough to conceal his constant chatter to his buddies. And to their credit, they all sit at attention and listen intently, even the usually hyperactive Aurora.

When he goes to pluck dead leaves from the plant he's stooped over, Aretha nudges in suddenly and does the task herself. His eyes widen as all the dogs follow suit, weeding diligently in an obvious mirror to his actions. Frank straightens up and watches them with his hands on his hips, like he can't believe what he's seeing. He accidentally taught a herd of dogs to... garden with him?! At least that's useful, if a little creepy. Uh. Yeah. He can work with this.

Soon, they're working together like a well-oiled machine, deadheading and weeding in the rain like it's the most natural thing in the world. Frank is humming a lively tune as they go and soon Aretha is warbling her own version along with him. Did he stumble into a Disney picture and not realize?

( OPEN TO ALL · let them wash away your pain )

Groffles. What a delightfully flawless creature. It's raining again today and there's a bow and arrow strapped to his back like he left his house with every intention to hunt. But then he'd come along a herd of groffles and stops for a moment just to watch them. They're so... cute, and he doesn't notice the pitchy sigh that's left his lips until he hears it belatedly aloud. Sometimes, he thinks he might actually like this place, and almost all of those times include dogs (or groffles, his totes new favorite.)

A particularly bold specimen comes straight up to him and nudges at Frank's jacket pockets. He shakes his head even as he reaches out a hand to see if he can pet her nose. "Oh... sorry girl, I came out here empty-handed. Rude, I know. Just like a New Yorker." You're rambling at animals again, Francis. But the groffle lets him pet her damp hair even though he has nothing for her and it's enough to get a shallow smile from him. Reluctantly, he turns away to set himself back onto the trail he'd been traveling but after walking a few paces, he realizes she's following him. That settles it, doesn't it? Frank Castle is officially a Disney princess.

The wild groffle follows him all the way back to the village, not to be deterred by any amount of distraction. Sometimes, you just have to accept the gift-groffle life gives you, right? And when life gives you a groffle, you get green milk and a really cute buddy. The afternoon will see Frank building a pen for the gentle creature behind House 6 and feeding her peaches from his pockets. "What do you think about Whitney?" he asks gamely, since apparently the Frank who was here last liked the classics.

Comments

closed

[3ofswords]

"Did you hear that," Kira asks, shifting gears from conversation to alert: Christ knew what might be in the cave with them, but neither of them had been prepared to climb up into the elevated village in the downpour. It's loud enough, only the crash makes it back to them, echoing in the depth, flattened by the low ceiling.

Then he hears the footsteps, animal and not unfamiliar. Aretha raises her head in the same direction, but shows no alarm.

And why would she, when it's Kira's dog that comes running around the bend? "Fucking--" he starts, barreled into by his soaking dog, knocked half off his seat by her enthusiasm--for his existence, and being out of the rain. From the ground, he turns an unimpressed look up at Karen. "Three guesses how she got out here," he says. "First two don't count." Frank, as much as the rain, washes out their reason for being here.

[digging]

Well, that's just wonderful. They hadn't started a fire yet, although they'd been considering a little one simply for the sake of light. With his back to the murky storm-light filtering from the front of the cave, Karen can't pick out details of the figure standing in front of them now, but it hardly matters; it couldn't be anyone else, even if she hadn't been able to recognize the silhouette alone.

She slides a knowing look to Kira and then glances back to the front of the cave. She hasn't talked to Frank since that last infuriating exchange on the watches, but she has talked to a priest, of all things, who it turns out was a really good listener and didn't even try to convert her. Apparently Matt had known a little something after all.

"Was that a tree?"

[oorah]

Frank watches Aretha and Aurora have their standoff AKA reunion and has to roll his eyes at them, however good-natured. Of all the caves in the forest and he picks the one with these losers.

"Don't make me get high again," is the first thing he can think to say. In retrospect, it's not the best greeting he could offer. But fuck it, he nudges his backpack over with his boot and goes to sit by Kira, digging through until he finds the bone and sliding it over to the dogs so they can scrap over it or share or however they decide to hash it out. He turns towards Karen and tries not to wonder if she hates him. "Yeah, Karen, it was a tree."

[3ofswords]

"Yeah Frank, we definitely hiked tens of miles into the woods to get high in a cave," Kira says, picking himself up through the approach. When Frank is done digging through his pack, Kira nudges it back away with his boot, just for the sake of it.

This is not, unfortunately, a cavern interlude for weed hijinks and verbal sparring. This was something closer to existential horror support group, before Frank literally crashed it with a tree.

"Too bad the narc caught up with us. The narc who just casually carries around bones?" Kira has but one talent in this situation: relentless subject changes.

[digging]

Well, that's about the minimum of information it's possible to give in response to her question, and Karen suppresses the urge to roll her eyes as she pushes to her feet and crunches away, back out toward the mouth of the cave. Sure enough, it had been a tree — A tree that's now blocking the entrance, keeping her trapped here like a character in a bad sitcom. Too Many god damned Cooks.

Sighing, she stands there, looking at the rustling branches, the steady patter of raindrops from leaf to leaf, debating the merits of wiggling her way out and leaving the buddies behind to have their Dogs and Sarcasm party. Would that be better? That had to be better, right? At least Kira makes Frank laugh.

Giving in, she eventually turns and heads back, standing several feet away, hands on her hips as she looks at them in the thin light. "It's blocking the way out," she says. "The tree."

[morphogenia]

She's been trying to figure out what the deal is with the flowers. It seems significant! Or maybe she's bored enough to invent a mystery that seems solvable. Either way, Kamala wants it enough to brave the rain and cold to uncover the mystery. She explores without any direction in mind much like a little kid on an adventure.

It's rain day, after all. Those still feel special even after leaving Reims. She feels compelled to do something even if it's solving a mystery no one asked to be solved. She's so lost in her own little world of flowers and wonder that she barely pays Frank any mind. Why would she? He's always busy on these days too. It's best to let him do his thing... until he knocks her off her feet.

Kamala's heart is pounding too, waiting for the danger that he must have picked up on, and it delivers. She makes herself small against him as the bolt hits the ground, wishing desperately she'd just shrink already! He's off of her before it can start to hurt. She turns her head to look at him. She nods, wide-eyed and reasonably scared for once. "Did I mention I love your new powers?"

Don't mind her. She's just going to lay here for a minute. Her heart can't stop pounding. That actually was very scary.

[oorah]

It isn't until he's lifting off her and hears a familiar voice that he even realizes it's Kamala. When those senses grip him, it's like no other information gets fed in and he can only act on animal instinct. In this case, he's glad it saved her even if he's caught rolling his eyes at her commentary. He gets to his feet and hefts her up too before trying to respond. They can't lay around in the flowers for another one to strike, young lady!!!!

"No. And please, don't." Seriously. He grits his teeth as he looks around for a shelter of some kind, not noticing the screen on his communicator going dark around his wrist.

[morphogenia]

That's what he pays her for. Kamala is staring at his wrist, not noticing the way hers goes dark too ironically enough. "I think you broke your new communicator in the rescue." She notes with a sigh. That's disappointing. She's been enjoying the Mayor Hotdog commentary.

She's also not taking the hint to go find shelter just yet. Instead she's going back to investigate those flowers where the lightning struck with interest. "That settles it. The flowers and lightning are definitely connected." Yeah she's going to keep at this and ignore Frank being sensible over there. Sorry not sorry.

[oorah]

Frank looks confused a moment before pushing his jacket out of the way so he can look at his teal communicator. She's right, it's dead. He taps at it, but nothing happens. He shrugs. "Worth it." It's not like he was doing anything valuable but pissing Karen off on the stupid thing.

"That's more of a reason to get away from the flowers," he points out, grimacing when another bolt of lightning comes down in the field, this time a few hundred yards away. He offers his hand, come on, tiny daughter.

lightning

[underpinnings]

Had he flung them back into the bed of flowers, or had they sprung beneath them in the blast? Owen doesn't feel sure, even as the lightning seems to sizzle through the flora, pop at his wrist, and crack a sapling to smoldering and splitting tips nearby. The smell of smoke wafts back in, and in his shock, he winds up staring at his watch, the screen gone black.

It's taking a minute to come back to himself.

Not for the rain: rain is comfort, rain is something like safe. Back home, it meant safer if less comfortable travel--people went to ground, the infected lost some of their senses, spores were washed out of the air. The gear he'd received holds up well against the wet, wicking plenty of water off, drying quickly in its absence. He'd been making his way out to the fields, hoping to continue his slow stalk of the equine creatures to the north. While some had been wrangled the quick way, he has hopes for a more lasting, trusting relationship with the creature he hopes to find the other coasts on.

Instead, he's been tackled to the dirt by a brick wall of a man. There's a shiver in his sternum that's nothing to do with the rain, or the tingle in his arm; the question barely penetrates the instinctive panic. His mind flickers through man-big-ground-exposed-strong--before he grits his teeth and steels against every internal and external input.

Fuck off. Fuck off. Swallowing, he might realize he owes the man the benefit of some doubt, though not any thanks. Owen splits the difference, keeping his tone neutral when he says, "Can you get off of me?"

[oorah]

Rain is usually safe, but today it almost killed them both. Frank plants his hand in the patch of flowers and internally apologizes to them, they're pretty and he didn't mean to crush them. Nor did he mean to crush Owen, of course, so he obliges by prying himself off the young man.

"Sorry," he gruffs, even though he'd saved him. He never was good at accepting gratitude as it was, so when Owen doesn't offer it, it's even easier to dismiss his own actions as altruistic. The truth is if anything happened to someone he'd been in the position to help, he wouldn't forgive himself. "You okay?"

He starts to get up and offers a hand down to help Owen up. He half expects it to be ignored though, so no love lost if that's the case.

[underpinnings]

Owen doesn't even see the hand, rolling front to back to front, levering himself up on hands and feet with some distance put between. He doesn't have the same sympathy for crushed lilies, and he spares his watch another glance, realizing they must the same from Mark's lecture.

Which means he's truly alone out here, with the man Kamala had called Frank. Intense is certainly a word for what just happened, but Owen tries to shake it off.

"You're lucky these were here," he says, instead of directly answering. That he's fine should be evident in the way he's walking back through the patch of flowers toward the treeline, out of the open. It's a wonder if the patches don't spring up because of something that draws the lightning itself, long after they've bloomed. "Unless you're secretly the Michelin Man, that would have fried us both."

Which, after a few more steps, has him relenting with a look back over one shoulder. "Are you okay?"

[oorah]

"If they weren't, you'd rather be a lightning rod?" He knows he's heavy, but that seems dramatic Owen!! Still. He doesn't realize Owen recognizes him, or that he's the man Kamala had told him about, of course. His nostrils flare, but then he takes a deep breath and forces himself to follow, knowing Owen has the right idea to get out of the open. When he's looking Frank's way he flashes an OK sign with his fingers and nods. "Great."

groffles for breakfast

[underachievement]

The sound of construction and rainfall go together too well for her comfort. She should be repelled by it; instead it makes her antsy and drawn, like a dumbass moth. Actually, insensitive imagery, considering the free range electrocutions going around. Jess doesn't do shit to avoid the lightning herself, though she doubts her shield thingy would protect her. It can't keep the rain off her and only seems to affect physical objects when she's coming out of a nightmare and that's most of what she's learned about it.

Jess reminds herself several times on the walk up that she's not equipped to lend a hand anymore and she's just curious. Tepidly, at best. She comes around the building and finds herself disappointed by the sight. A pen? Boring. But at least a bunch of people aren't leaping to pitch in, seems to be just the one hammering away near the house. Once she's turned the corner of it and seen who it is, Jess grinds her teeth and tips her face into the rain, picturing the same solitary work her eyes slide closed on. Nobody's helping him. Good.

Rain patters onto the right shoulder of her leather jacket, her left pressed to the side of the house and sheltered by the roof. Jess sighs before opening up her eyes again, just to watch. Not like she hasn't seen him in passing, several times actually. Refusing to get used to it hasn't gotten rid of him so she considers altering course and trying desensitization. She gives it a shallow shot and observes placidly, resting the side of her head to the house. That or she's falling asleep standing up.

[oorah]

The groffle is "helping" him, but butting its head into his back every time he pauses for too long. He has to laugh at the dumb beast who seems to have taken to Frank immediately for whatever reason. Jessica knows how hard it is for him to deny strays. Between the rain and his work, it takes him a long time to notice anyone is watching - or at least, a long time for him. Five minutes, generously. He expects Karen, or Claire - maybe Aragorn. So when he looks up and sees her, it's impossible to prevent the rush of emotion flitting across his face. Fear, worry, recognition and then finally: relief. He could do this without her, but that doesn't mean he wants to.

Instead of going to her immediately, he turns back to his work and finishes up the panel he'd been working on. If she's still there when he's through, he knows he'll be the one to reach out. That's just how things are between them. With half of a fence built, he abandons his tools in the wet grass and goes to the side of the house, trying to keep sandwiches and jackets and Kilgrave's lifeless body out of his head for a change. He mimics her pose, resting his temple against the siding, keeping his distance of maybe a couple feet. Just close enough to make eye contact, but not enough to reach out, even if he wanted to. For once, he really doesn't.

However, their serious moment is intruded upon by the large cowlike creature, who comes up behind Frank's shoulder to loom curiously. After another moment of silence from the pair, she seems to grow impatient, stopping one hooved foot into the ground and letting out whatever the hell passes for a Moo around these parts. Frank grimaces at the sound in his ear, but doesn't turn back around, instead just watching Jessica with a much blander expression as he waits for her to come around.

[underachievement]

From a distance, Jess assumed she just didn't know what she was looking at when it came to the pen's future tenant. And, well, she wasn't wrong. It's hard to maintain the gravity of the moment with the buffalo that God forgot nudging its nose where it doesn't belong.

"Nice fence," she offers neutrally, still stuck on what the hell is standing behind him. (Her lack of investment comes off as sarcastic, oh noo.) Has she seen that animal before or just components of it? What kind of questions is she even asking herself? It's utterly inconsequential, it's just easier to think about than the dearth of expression on his face. "Assuming it's for keeping things out." She means it, but again, no investment.

[oorah]

She's as inscrutable as ever, and it's almost comforting at present. He'd had long annoying exchanges with almost everyone in the village. Sometimes Reims style, through sign and text, but a few people he'd actually deemed to speak to, and it's getting easier all the time. Especially with the rain on. His communicator is still down from the blue lilies, his mayoral leather bracelet strapped around the opposite wrist like nothing has changed. Maybe it hasn't: they're still wildly incompatible, after all.

"What else are fences for?" It didn't work on her. Then again, it's not done yet. And neither is the boundary he'd been building around himself ever since that night they parted ways. Not here, that had been a fresh tear. But back in Reims, when she told him she cared. It was as good as lip service in the end for all the good it did them. He knows she's not sorry, but neither is he. So why is she here?

listen to the waves

[notan_animal]

It's been a fairly uneventful week, all things considered. Logan is back and besides his surroundings being new(ish), there's a bunch of faces he doesn't know and won't if he has a say in it. He's not what they call a social butterfly by any means, but meeting people in such a small, intimate setting is likely to happen.

Like it will right now.

He's standing there staring at.. whatever this is for a good minute. He thought it was bad enough having a large adult moose imprint and follow him around, which luckily Bub wasn't doing right then. No, what he's seeing is something out of a kids movie and the guy humming that tune was not great casting for the part.

When Frank finally stops humming he will no doubt feel the presence of someone lingering near-by.

[oorah]

He had noticed someone there not long after Logan came to be lurking, but he doesn't think much of it until the work is done. The dogs circle around him, barking happily in the light sprinkle of the afternoon, and he shakes his head, moving to approach the figure when he realizes it isn't moving on. Frank motions to them to stay behind him, and much to his surprise they all listen, not just Aretha and (halfway) Aurora.

The second he recognizes the face before him it doesn't matter anyway, his jaw falling slack as he takes the rest of the distance two strides at a time. The dogs back him up like a wall of fur, sitting on their haunches and panting as Frank forgets himself. That this probably isn't the Logan he knows. He grabs the man's arm and pulls him in for a fierce man-hug, a watery smile tugging across his lips. "It's been a long time, brother."

Or at least, it felt that way for him. If Logan came here straight from Reims he could have seen 'Hotdog' a moment ago, or less. They could have been building bookshelves together for the kids, repairing soundproofing in the halls, filling in sandpaths or knitting wool caps for everyone come next rainstorm. The relief is palpable in his embrace, clearly not wanting to let go even when it stretches on a nearly awkward amount of time.

[notan_animal]

Not one to care too much for people entering his personal space uninvited, Logan's expression shifts from mild disbelief to what the hell to being totally unsure of how to deal with this apparent 'moment' for the other guy. Logan stays perfectly still, one arm pinned down at his side while the other hovers over the man's back while he's being embraced.

He honestly doesn't know what to do.

"Brother, huh?" he starts, letting Frank do his thing because clearly he knows him from somewhere and that version of him were obviously close. "Look, I--"

Being in the settlement before gives him the knowledge of the multiverse. Claire Bennet explained it to him the first time he was there and how it was selective with memories of certain places and people. This was one of those situations, apparently.

"Maybe you can fill me in on how we know each other because I just got back and your face isn't ringing any bells."

[oorah]

Frank realizes his mistake almost instantly once the relief has worn down. Expecting Logan to hit him, he backs up a pace or two and holds up his hands in surrender.

"Sorry... I thought you were someone else." Sort of.

lightning

[borneinblood]

It's been a long time since Druitt has really had to worry about environmental hazards. Being able to teleport does that to a person. Lightning, however, is one of the few things that he's not able to avoid. And for all that he's not unaware of the fact that the weather has been more than a little stormy of late, there's not much he can do when one catches him on the way back to the Inn as he's coming back from a trip out to the edges of the village.

(He might not have his teleportation any more, but that's no reason to not familiarize himself with his surroundings, especially if he's going to be staying awhile.)

He's just coming round past the fountain when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye; he's only just begun to turn in that direction when he finds himself rather abruptly tackled to the ground (no mean feat, when he has nearly half a foot of height on Frank).

He's just about started in on a fairly impressive spat of irritation when lightning strikes almost exactly where he'd been standing previously. And just like that, any irritation vanishes, replaced by curiosity instead. Especially when he still remembers Helen's comment about not people not having whatever abilities they might have previously. Which means that either the man who just tackled him to the ground has been very lucky, or that something else is at play here.

But that's something to consider for later. Right now, he climbs to his feet as soon as Frank rolls off of him, entirely unaware of the fact that they've landed in a bed of newly-arrived flowers.

"Quite alright. Although I rather suspect that might not have been the case, if not for your... intervention."

[oorah]

He doesn't really feel how difficult it was until they're on the ground, adrenaline carrying through the action before he's thought through how lanky (and heavy) John is. He's no Logan, so he still goes down, and Frank rolls off him smoothly to catch his own breath in the patch of bright-colored flowers.

"Yeah, no sweat." Well, some sweat. The rain makes it a moot point anyway. Frank gets to his feet and offers the other man a hand up, glancing around the storm nervously to make sure they're in the clear. A foot from where they end up, there's an unmistakable scorch mark in the grass. If he had to have super powers, he supposes these ones aren't the worst ever? Maybe. But he's still freaked out.

His hand sparks like static electricity as he grasps John's wrist, and he frowns at the sight of it, wondering if it shocked the other man. The last thing he needs is to start hurting people he's trying to save, though truly if that isn't par for his course already. What Frank couldn't know, is that by landing in the blue lilies he'd rendered them both immune to the storm, both internally sourced and out. The other man is as well equipped as he is now for getting struck again, though he's not about to hang around and wait for lightning to literally strike twice.

"We should get out of this." It's reluctant, it's a rain day. He feels like his kids would have on snow days when Maria would call them in before they caught their death. He doesn't want to go inside, but maybe just for a little while.

[borneinblood]

For all that he's still not sure what to make of the fact that some people here have powers when he knows that his own are still barred to him, Druitt is certainly not complaining. Especially when he spots the scorch mark nearby; while the elemental he serves as host to might have granted him partial immunity to the strike it's not anything he'd have meant to test. But that little secret is one he's not going to mention. Instead, he takes Frank's hand without so much as a second thought, nodding at the comment that comes with.

As for the spark of electricity that comes from his hand, that doesn't prompt so much as the slightest reaction. It'll take more than that to startle him, given that one of his friends has (had, now) similar powers, and given that he doesn't feel a corresponding zap, he figures it must not have been enough to jump to him.

(That he is, now, temporarily immune to electric shocks doesn't even so much as occur to him. He's not used to plants being able to grant that sort of ability.)

"I'd been making for the Inn, if that works?"

It's a ways off, yes. But not so much so that they should need to worry about the possibility of needing to find somewhere closer.

[oorah]

He pats John on the back once he's up on his own two feet before letting the contact drop entirely. The Inn isn't super close, but it's the closest communal structure so it'll have to do.

"It works," Frank confirms gruffly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and slotting in next to the taller man. Running through his head is all the things he ought to be doing instead. Construction, soundproofing, meal prep... Tomorrow morning the sand-paths would be mud, he'd have to pull a double shift just to get them serviceable again. Except none of it is real, not anymore. Here he has a disturbingly low number of responsibilities. At least he could save one person if the rest of his musings weren't really a factor. "You're sure you're okay?" he presses after a moment. He would have seen if John were hit directly, but they hit the ground hard, he has to doublecheck.