( OPEN ) gotta get back gotta get free.

[oorah]

WHO: Mayor McChilicheesedog
WHERE: House 6, House 60, and beyond
WHEN: October 15-November 5
OPEN TO: OTA (closed prompts in comments)
WARNINGS: animagus times, general obliviousness, dust moths, tba

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OPEN TO ALL.

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After cooking for the Stark Expo, Frank had bailed pretty quickly thereafter, not wanting to stick around for the thank-yous and/or any derisive comments. He also really hadn't felt as though he had much to contribute to a "tech conference" even with no tech to be found. At first, he considers going to find that book Mark started with all the skills and scratching his name off every page, but he finds himself heading to the Lake instead.

Before he knows it, he's heading down to the Bunker and straight for that powers vending machine. He studies the choices for a long time, remembering his conversation with Kamala and wondering if this all isn't an elaborate trap. Maybe it does nothing? Just another way to mess with their minds. He's heard whisperings of people hearing one another's thoughts recently and decides he needs to pick something tangible. Something he can prove definitively worked or didn't work. His finger hovers over Animal Transformation, but then he swallows, steeling himself. To Hell with it, right?

It isn't Frank Castle who runs out of the bunker and back onto the surface, but a coyote. He will be easily spotted loitering outside House 6 like he's trying to figure out how to work a doorknob in this state. When he gives up, he goes to lay down in the backyard, like he's watching over the animals in the pen. The groffle and zalpaca graze on as if oblivious to a predator nearby. Perhaps because they sense it's not really a creature who intends them any harm. After a time, Frank nods off in that state and a croc-dog finds him, curling up under his chin to join in the nap.

Over the next week or two, people might spot the coyote who comes in close to the Villages, most often he'll be outside the Schoolhouse or the Inn but never does he try to venture inside or close enough to be caught. If someone catches his eyes, he'll run off towards the forest.

WILDCARD.

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Comments

[oorah]

See? He had known they'd need the liquor, he just didn't know what for. He takes a shallow sip of his own and hunkers down into his seat, wishing he had something better to offer her. The acknowledgment still fills him with some small sense of satisfaction, like he did his good deed for the day. She knows he doesn't care about his karmic scales, but when it comes to her things like this matter. She matters, to him. "Can we talk about Winter?" For real this time.

[underachievement]

Without him to wall off the cold beside her, Jess hitches the blanket back up over her shoulder. She has another, long swig, frozen to the chair.

"Sure," she croaks, canting her glass in his direction. "Why not." Her humility and dignity have absconded like a swarm of moths so she doubts it will bother her half as much to have him criticize her nonexistent survival chops. She's only capable of half-listening right now, anyway.

[oorah]

Ugh, he hates that tone. His arm stretches out, resting against hers while his other hand stays wrapped around his glass. "You don't have electricity, which means your pipes are gonna freeze. What are you gonna do about water?"

[underachievement]

She hadn't thought about that. In her apartment, the heating kicked out and the plumbing was noisy and inconsistent but the pipes freezing had never been a problem. Jess applies herself enough to come up with a practical answer, eyes trained on her glass. His attempt to connect to her is acknowledged by omission, her arm unmoving.

"Boil snow. Pour hot water down the pipes." Science.

[oorah]

She doesn't move and so neither does he: impasse achieved. He makes a face as he assesses, it's not the worst idea. "Or you could boil snow and use that, so you're on the right track." It's better than he thought she'd do okay, which might be rude, but it's from a place of caring. Actually, that makes it worse, doesn't it? "I'm still gonna bring you those supplies."

[underachievement]

Jess sneers at his approval, rejecting his note as a conclusion she would have come to herself.

"Bring me more of this." Her booze is raised, gamely sipped and then thunked on the table. She gets to her feet, keeping both hands on the table to avoid an ungainly spill. The liquor hits her once she's standing, sloshing to the front of her skull. Her blood feels like lead, her eyes like steel marbles in her head. Jess blinks the mild vertigo away, taking up her glass and trudging for the couch.

[oorah]

"There's not always snow when it freezes," he points out, unable to hold it in even though he knows it might not be what she wants to hear. Frank works his jaw and stares down at the table, watching her get up with detached interest. Maybe that's enough well-intentioned bullying for one night. Before she can pick her glass up, he pours the remainder of his into it. "Just... keep an eye out for moths, okay?" He gets up to put his glass in the sink, pushing long hair out of his face only to have it fall back into his eyes. She's never going to water those flowers and there's no extra glass for them anyway, so he finds some twine in his pocket and hangs them upside down by the window so they can dry. Who knows when they might need them again, right? Frank brings her the bottle and places it on the coffee table, unable to keep the vulnerability entirely from his gaze. He feels sober and alone, he can do that anywhere. He doesn't have to feel that way sitting next to Jessica. He shoves his hands in jacket pockets and prepares himself mentally to leave. As ever, he knows it'll probably be goodbye for a little while, so he's working up to the words, if they ever come.

[underachievement]

Settling into the couch on her side, she huffs a little as her face touches down on the quilt-covered arm. She'll keep an eye out for them, all right. She'll learn how to keep them in captivity and harness their power, or she would if she were one of the science types. Might be worth politely blackmailing one of them into pursuing.

"You don't have to go," Jess mumbles, watching him with one cheek buried in the cushion. He's wobbly or her vision is. Besides, she's passed out at his place on a couple of occasions. It looks like returning a favor when he'd be doing her a whole new one, remaining nearby as a buffer against the creeping agony waiting to make her its conduit. It's a small house and they can hear each other rooms apart, after what they've been through. But she doubts he'll do it; he has a teenager and a dog at home, not to mention electricity.

[oorah]

Kamala and the dogs can fend for themselves and for once, they're not even on his mind at all. He wants to go because this hurts, it always hurts so much. Frank swallows, her words effectively halting him though he hadn't convinced his feet to move yet anyway.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks, trying to keep both his tone and expression impassive.

[underachievement]

Jess can't tell if she's thrown him a lifeline or added more blood to the water and she's too tired to care. She would nod if she were still sitting up but now that she's lying down, she's planted, and any moving will become an ordeal unto itself. The windows and doors will probably stay open until she's so cold she can't sleep.

"Yeah," she says groggily, blinks and shutters her eyes. She expects he'll fuss a little more if he stays or shut the door behind him if he decides to go. Jess listens for either, or maybe the pitter patter of paws as he dashes out.

[oorah]

It can be both, and often is with Jessica. He checks his watch to make sure Kamala hasn't sent him anything, but she's at the party still he could bet. And the dogs are well fed until she gets back. He approaches the door, still not entirely sure what he's going to do until he's there. Frank looks back at her and makes his decision, closing it with his feet firmly planted inside the house. This is a mistake, it always is, and yet it's one he'd make over and over again. He leaves the windows alone for now, save the one right in front of her which he closes, grabbing up a blanket to lay over her on the couch instead. Fussing is one word for it, brushing her hair back from her face and wishing he could give her blissful, empty sleep the way she surely had when the moths were head of the household. Before he can stop himself, he leans down to press the softest kiss against her brow. A quiet reminder that he's here if she needs him, he supposes, though as ever he should have taken the out when it was presented as an option.

[underachievement]

The longer he takes to decide, the shittier Jess about obligating him like that. When the door shuts, she hopes he's on the other side. Instead, in quick order he's blocking the light from the stove, shadow bleeding off his broad frame. She has the opportunity to stop him as he kneels down to kiss her but she's beyond caring what it means to him. She's already costing him, asking him to stay with her when she'd give anything to leave what she is behind or turn it away. She gave him the choice to leave but they both know he was screwed as soon as she posed the alternative.

At least he hesitated.

Jess sighs, hand snaking out from under the blanket. Like two nettles brushing, she lazily catch her fingers on his, then listlessly lets her hand hang.

[oorah]

He sighs, tightening their fingers and shifting so he can carve out a space for himself by her legs, boots on the ground but torso pitched forward as though his silhouette alone could fend off her demons. "Sleep," he urges softly, bringing her hand up to his lips and brushing them across her knuckles, long facial hair tickling the delicate skin there. He rests their joined hands on his knee and locks his shoulder against the back of the couch to soldify his hover, watching over her and feeling more fulfilled for it.

[underachievement]

In for a penny, in for a pound again. She can't muster any surprise at this late, morose and drunken hour, the shame of her own episode mollifying her over letting it rest. Jess hmphs argumentatively, closing her eyes anyway. If he's going to sit there for the next few hours, warming her legs while she sleeps, she might manage to sleep comfortably for a while. Her arm disappears under the blankets, her body curling slightly into itself and around him.