Wait. What? How did they go from apologies to... love confessions? He looks alarmed and confused and hurt all at once because that's what he is and as ever wears his heart directly on his stupid sleeve. When it all conglomerates, it's hard not to be angry - he feels like he's being manipulated, like a certain response is expected and she knows he can't stand to be boxed in. He had confided in her, he'd been mind-controlled. He'd lost so much of himself before he came here and maybe she thinks she loves him, but she hasn't done much to show it herself. Glass houses and all that happy bullshit.
"I see you every goddamn day if you wanna say something to me," he points out, more of the hurt coming through than the anger when he finally speaks. An uphill battle? What kind of a path does she think he's been on? Is there smooth even pavement beneath his feet because he thinks they're both going up a fucking rocky cliff and she just pushed him down his side only to say his path was easier so he should've seen it coming. "You don't want me around, Karen. You want me to be someone I'm not anymore."
And for that he really is sorry. Reims apparently made him unrecognizable to her, and it's a shame. He'd tried so hard to put her first, time and time again. To make sure she was safe, to be physically available even though they both knew he always sucked at the emotional kind. She used to just break through, force him to see another side. Here it seemed he wasn't even worth the effort in this state, and in the end he can't even fault her for it. Who knows, maybe Kilgrave broke him in a way he can't come back from, the same way he had Jessica. The thought makes his lip curl in disgust and he shoves his coffee cup away. He's not giving someone else the chance to walk away from him tonight.
His eyes flash with something else, fear probably. He's always so damn scared. He'd told her that, goddamnit. He keeps going back and trying to blame himself, but this time he did what he was supposed to do. She hadn't once asked to help himself or Kamala - and that's fine. Because maybe they don't need each other the way he thought. Maybe this time it's Frank who needs some space.
"Good night, Karen," he says gruffly as a courtesy and turns to walk out the open doorway. Aurora catches on a second later, crashing into his legs on her way by; but his gait remains undaunted and steadfast. A moment later, she'll hear the front door to the Inn shut heavily, not quite a slam.
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"I see you every goddamn day if you wanna say something to me," he points out, more of the hurt coming through than the anger when he finally speaks. An uphill battle? What kind of a path does she think he's been on? Is there smooth even pavement beneath his feet because he thinks they're both going up a fucking rocky cliff and she just pushed him down his side only to say his path was easier so he should've seen it coming. "You don't want me around, Karen. You want me to be someone I'm not anymore."
And for that he really is sorry. Reims apparently made him unrecognizable to her, and it's a shame. He'd tried so hard to put her first, time and time again. To make sure she was safe, to be physically available even though they both knew he always sucked at the emotional kind. She used to just break through, force him to see another side. Here it seemed he wasn't even worth the effort in this state, and in the end he can't even fault her for it. Who knows, maybe Kilgrave broke him in a way he can't come back from, the same way he had Jessica. The thought makes his lip curl in disgust and he shoves his coffee cup away. He's not giving someone else the chance to walk away from him tonight.
His eyes flash with something else, fear probably. He's always so damn scared. He'd told her that, goddamnit. He keeps going back and trying to blame himself, but this time he did what he was supposed to do. She hadn't once asked to help himself or Kamala - and that's fine. Because maybe they don't need each other the way he thought. Maybe this time it's Frank who needs some space.
"Good night, Karen," he says gruffly as a courtesy and turns to walk out the open doorway. Aurora catches on a second later, crashing into his legs on her way by; but his gait remains undaunted and steadfast. A moment later, she'll hear the front door to the Inn shut heavily, not quite a slam.