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The walk… well really the trudge, back from Central Park had taken Frank through a couple of the darker parts of New York City, the places where he was really quite comfortable rather than discomforted. On the corner of a midtown street he had stopped and glanced around, up one street then another before stopping and ducking himself into a street corner pharmacy.
Once inside he had started to make his way down one aisle then the next, glancing his way at the cold and flu remedies which were in short supply and lacking in variety considering the era. Finally he settled on some medicine with the cherry red color and nasty after taste, a bottle of asprin and some lozanges for the throat. Turning, he started his way back to the counter to pay.
*
Jean trudges along behind him, quiet. Not directly behind him, but possibly a half a block away. He did seem rather odd; he didn't really speak. Just a few grunts here and there and a few points and a wander off. That was always fun. She was still even in her silly little uniform, and thankfully it had pockets. For her gloved hands were shoved into them, her gaze following the way her foot falls upon the ground, stopping at the door as she waits for him to emerge again, only glancing into the store just to catch a glimpse of what he had in his hand.
Cold stuff.
This makes her think, when was the last time she had a cold? Or been sick? The mental institution didn't count as being sick, but when was she ever really ill? She couldn't remember, there was no sense dwelling, only waiting to make sure that he at least managed to get home without getting shot at or shooting at someone.
*
The items are shoved into a bag, Castle stops for a moment before motioning to something behind the counter; a bottle of whiskey it would seem, and that is added to his tally before he pays and slips out the door with the ringing of the chime over it echoing into the night.
"You done stalking me yet?" He asks to the darkness, as if knowing someone is there and has been lurking behind him the entire time. As the words leave his throat he coughs gently into his elbow and pops open the bag to pull out the cough medicine; opens it, and takes a long swig.
*
A soft 'tsk' draws from her lips, her head shaking briefly as she stands upright from the wall that she hung back upon, waiting for him to emerge. His words? They sounded odd. It was actually rather amusing, good ol' Frank Castle, bested by a cold bug. "Nope." Instead of hanging back, she approaches, her arms folded about her chest. "Just making sure you're going to get home alright, is all. Where ever home is for tonight."
She remains silent for a moment, watching him drink the cold medicine with a wrinkle of her nose. "Maybe you should get some soup and orange juice.."
*
Frank grunts, the grunt that communicates 'your opinion is valid but don't share it'. He sets the bottle of cough medicine back into the bag and pulls out some asprin to throw down his mouth after opening it. "Don't get sick. This is just allergies or some shit." He explains back to Jean before tilting his head towards an apartment building up the way. "That's home for me tonight, so you don't need to stalk any further. Especially lookin' like an outcast from one of those shows over on Broadway."
*
"You sound like my dad." Jean remarks, her tone amused. She almost wants to laugh, but that was cut almost quickly. "Well.. I didn't have enough time to go home and change. I just wanted to make sure you were alright after all of that…" She tilts her head back towards Central Park, not wanting to mention it further.
"Just.. just wait here."
Without another word, she slinks past him and into the store, moving through the isles like a ghost in the night. Even though she was seen, she was gathering a few things to carry within her arms, which was soon dropped upon the counter top. How she manages to stuff money into that suit was circumspect. But it was handed over towards the cashier and everything bagged as she looks back towards Frank's position. She even gestures behind the counter, whatever it was was stuffed into a bigger bags which she takes with a smile and well wishes. And once she was outside, she was ready. "Come on. I know you can't stand me but let me do you a favor tonight."
*
He was tempted to just walk off, but the girl hadn't been that annoying in the park and she probably would just have followed him anyway. So Frank waits around, then when she walked out he tilts his head. "Favor? Your ideas of favors usually end up with me being shot at or ruining some of my carefully laid plans." The skepticism in his tone is quite abundant but looking the redhead over, he finally inclines his head in invitation and starts to make his way across the street to the apartment building that looks slightly less sketchy then the last place he hid.
*
Jean wrinkles her nose faintly, then shrugs. "Sorry.." She says quietly. "But I'm really trying to make up for it. I mean, I really don't know how much bu—.." Annnd he was walking. The bags in her hands were heavy but she manages to make due with a little bit of TK, lifting it as she walks but not too high. She even tries to skitter closer to him as she tries to finish her sentence.
"..but I'm learning how to fight. Slowly and surely. And I promise if you got a plan I won't interfere. I mean.. I.. promise I won't interfere -too- much especially if I'm around but I think I could be like a really cool sidekick."
She was just like a lil puppy, yipping about. "Not sidekick but, you know. Partner. I mean, I won't kill people. That's /totally/ out of the question but I bet you I can get the job done just as good."
*
"What part of me, makes you think I'd need a partner?" Frank asks as the door to the complex is opened and he starts to climb up the stairs, letting her tow her bag behind him as he makes the ascent. "What woudl you even bring to the table that I'd need?" The fifth floor is where he stops finally, having gasped up a bit the last two; yeah he was definitely feeling a bit sick. A door is opened; not being locked apparently, and he enters to throw on a light.
This place was actually fairly nice, a sofa could be seen that wasn't trashy, carpetting. Either Frank sprung for a nice apartment or this was somebody else's; most likely the latter.
*
"I don't know. I mean.. I can keep you from getting shot and from being seen when you want to get somewhere?" She was even questioning herself about that little blurb. She was still figuring out the extent of her mutation, even with the Phoenix riding her back at all times. Just how far could she go?
She was quiet, however.. the bags soon let go as she glances around to make sure that no one was watching. They begin to lift into the air at an orbit, circling around her as she tries to focus, her hand stretching out to not place upon Frank's back, but to catch him should he take a tumble. He sounded like pure shit.
Though once into the place, she takes just a second to admire it. It was clean at least. One could sleep on the couches. It was a wonder of what the rest of the place looks like, and she was certainly going to find out. With the bags trailing in the air behind her, the gloves soon come off and her jumpsuit was unzipped, sleeves hung around her middle to reveal just a regular wife beater underneath. And into the kitchen she goes, without a second invitation. "Sit down for a bit!" She calls out.
*
Again Castle grunts as Jean attempts to order him around, but he doesn't take the orders well instead he follows into the kitchen and retrieves a kettlepot from one of the counters; filling it with water and setting it on the heat. "Tea." He explains with a grump to the woman, shaking his head some. "It takes more than a little sniffle to knock me down. And I do keep from getting shot, and I do keep from getting seen. Besides, I don't even know what you do, beyond floating things." Apparently he noticed the bags and all the other things over the past few weeks that she does.
"This is just a fever, a chill, and a sore throat. Nothing to go to the ER over."
*
Him following her into the kitchen causes her to frown, but she continues to work. The vegetables were laid out, small as they were, knives soon grabbed as she begins to cut them into smaller pieces. Tea. At least that was a start. Another pan was floated and lands upon the stove with quite a racket. "I wasn't suggesting an ER visit. I am going to make you soup." She stops, holding the knife up. "Unless you'd rather eat that tea bag you're going to use and drink your whiskey."
She returns to cutting, her jaw clenching ever so slightly. "Think about something obscure." She states, then continues on. "I can fly a little. Obviously. Weird thing.. talk to animals. You'd be surprised at how excited they are." She sniffs a little. "And.. I can feel what others are feeling. It's annoying. Beyond that, I really couldn't tell you what else I could do, but I'm getting help with it all."
*
"Wait, you can talk to Animals? Well shit why didn't you say so. Next time I need to question a Goat I can call you." His tone is teasing, almost amused. He doesn't smile but there is a hint that he could; very unfrank like. Teasing but in a joking way rather than a mean way. He glances aside at Jean as the water comes to boil, fetching two cups and dropping tea bags into both. Two, not one. Then he sets to pooring the water into the cups.
Passing by Jean to head to where his bag is, the one with the whiskey he retrieves the bottle and walks back. Then it happens. A small smile on his lips… a Smile?! And his free hand reaches down and smacks her on the ass before he goes to pooring some extra Irish into the tea.
*
"Oh shut up." Jean picks up a cut carrot and tosses it into his direction. If he wasn't going to smile, she was going to do it for him, but it was genuine. "You'd be surprised though, I actually -can-." Even as he tends to his tea, her head begins to slowly shake, her bottom pre-clenching as she draws her shoulders to a stiffness as she takes in a breath.
"Don't you dare—.."
*SMACK*
She jumps slightly, her head lowering in a slight sigh as she turns to take the cutting board to the stove, and begins to mix. "People give me odd looks at times." She calls out, probably talking to no one in particular. "I know a few people are expecting my brain to explode or me to set myself on fire in some weird kind of way.." She frowns a little. "I can set stuff on fire.."
While she works, the cans draw themselves from the bag, everything working in tandem with just a thought. Can-opener cutting open the cans, which were soon dumped in, salt and peppers shaken. Usually if people were around, she'd use her hands. But this.. this is much easier. "Maybe eventually I -am- going to kill people. But.. not today."
*
"See, setting a fire. That's something very useful." Frank points out as he adds the whiskey to the tea, then another little dash and picks up his cup to start sipping it. "Fire is useful for purpose. It redirects people and it illicits a primal fear. That is what you don't realize. It isn't just about destruction, but about getting to those root fears people have."
He pauses around his cup, "That's why they look at you funny. Fear."
*
"Well, it's not like I'm going around doing it.." Jean mutters quietly to herself. She looks around the kitchen, then moves about it, pulling open drawers to search for a mixing spoon as the liquid slowly begins to heat. "I thought it's because I'd find out their secrets. Like.. a man three floors below us likes to wear stockings and one of those feather boas when his wife isn't home." She smirks a little. "Or.. the wife actually cheating on her husband with his sister." She breathes harshly out of her nose, stepping to the stove to start mixing, lifting up upon the tips of her toes to stare inside.
"You're not scared."
*
"What's there to be afraid of?" Frank asks as he heads over to the sofa in the living area and sits down upon it, feet going up on the table across and tea being sipped on again. "You kill me, oh well. Ain't any secrets I have either. So really, I have no reason to be scared. Annoyed by you? Yes. But that's completely different." He sighs a bit then in relaxation. "Did you want me to be scared of you?"
*
"I don't know." Well, she does. And Frank was the person who could really handle it. "I do know." She stirs slowly, then lets up as she lets the ingredients settle. With the spoon upon the counter top, she makes her way around it, taking to hopping up and sitting upon it with one leg crossed over the other. "I don't know if it's another personality, or another -being- all together that's inside of me. It.. she talks to me occasionally. Has her own ideas, forms her own thoughts, and learning." She shrugs her shoulders. "And don't say I'm crazy. But she resonates with you in this weird ass way."
She shakes her head slightly, then shrugs. "You're the only one who treats me.. badly." She laughs, it was a loud one. "No, but. Okay. You and another person. Logan Howlett. You gotta meet him. He's a mutant too, but has like, metal blades that come out of his knuckles. Can take a bullet right in between the eyes and keeps moving. Danger meter? You two are on par."
*
"I'm not the only one that treats you badly." Frank comments while sitting there, head rolling back to look at the ceiling as he relaxes. "The rest of the world will treat you just as badly. I'm simply treating you like that. Another person, no one special. Because you aren't." His shoulders lift up, "Gifts or mutants or whatever the hell you want it to be called, in the end, it ain't that special if everyone is special, now is it." His eyes slip down to look at Jean on the counter, eyebrow quirked in questioning.
"As for your voices or other personalities or whatever? Which one is the annoying one?"
*
"No, I suppose you aren't." Jean states. "That whole Weapon X thing that you've seen in the news?" She lifts a hand, fingers waving. "One of the ones kidnapped by that." She doesn't elaborate further, keeping that little thought of ripping Logan's face clean off to herself. But there was a thought there, one that makes her feel better. She wasn't special. Thank. Fucking. God.
She hops down from the counter, rounds it as before to approach the stove, stirring the soup again. "You're probably talking about me. Me me. Not the other me. She's a bit frightening sometimes.." She turns the stove off, then begins to search the cupboards for two bowls. "Do you have a fever?"
*
Frank is silent for a bit as if contemplating an answer then it comes, "Yes." A simple enough answer. "Fever, cough, chills. Been thinking weird shit the past couple days too. Like my mind isn't all there. Why I've been keeping a lower profile. Don't get sick very often so figure it must be bad if it's putting me down for a bit." Even as he is speaking, the boots on his feet are coming off and falling to the floor.
"Why I borrowed this apartment from… someone. Needed a place a little more tidy and tended then my usual haunts, get over this shit quicker."
*
Jean just nods quietly as she begins to pour his soup into a bowl. It looked hearty enough, the vegetables she added making it a little bit more filling, with noodles and bits of chicken already added. She doesn't do too much salt, but she does add a nice covering of pepper, which was carefully delivered to the table where he sat. She drags the table closer to him, then kneels upon the couch, her hands reaching out to try to touch his forehead.
"When you're done with that, warm bath?" Maybe that'll get his fever down a bit. "What have you been thinking?"
*
"Bath, what the hell, I'm not seven." Frank retorts as he looks at the soup askance for a few moments before relenting and starting to eat some. "Thoughts that ain't me. Silly things, weird decisions. Choices that I'd never make crossing my mind. Hell, I almost thought about dancing the other day. What the hell kinda shit is that? Dancing?" He looks past the soup at Jean, he's not joking either. It was a serious thought and his expression shows the distaste at the concept.
*
"You need one Frank. I haven't seen you with a clean face since.. ever." She sounds like a mom. That thought makes her wrinkle her nose.
"To be fair.." Jean states, standing up before she even finishes her sentence. In fact, she moves away from the couch entirely. "I've seen your wedding video. You dance pretty good if I do declare." Yes. She was preparing to run. Or to stop him cold should he throw something or get up.
*
He actually shoots at her, rather than a bullet it is a glare. "Not there." The tone is cold, like ice and is present like a warning. Frank's expression matches the opposite of the soup which he sets down then unfinished and continues his icy look. He may not be seven, but he can function like one if he needs to. Want him to eat, avoid certain things.
*
It was a glare that made her blood run cold. No one has ever looked at her before, and she herself nearly felt sick to her stomach. "Okay.." She says weakly. "..but.. Frank.." Her teeth clenches as she throws caution into the wind, slowly drawing close, keeping to the edge of the couch to settle lightly upon the arm rest. "Where is she?"
*
There's no ready response, it shouldn't be too hard to read from his expression, from his demeanor or his aura. 'Dead'. It is more a thought then a word and Frank's eyes simply slide closed as he leans his head back against the couch, facing up towards the ceiling with feet reaching out to plop down on the table. The coldness doesn't thaw, in fact it hardens some but not directed this time to Jean. Directed instead to everything, everywhere and everyone.
*
Oh.. she felt it break. Maybe it was her own heart or his. Her hand reaches up to grasp at her chest, her feet soon placing upon the cushion of the couch, her body near doubled up as one hand reaches up to touch upon her head. God.. those thoughts. The chill. Even the chill felt hot against her skin. Or maybe she was coming down with what he was.. no. That wasn't it. She could barely breathe.
"Frank.." She says quietly. "She was beautiful." That was her way of saying sorry, but she wasn't about to keep going. Not with this line of questioning. It hurt too much. "I'll go get your bath ready. Okay? Or.. a towel or something.." She rolls slightly off the couch, standing up and rushing away before any words were spoken, the bathroom door slamming shut, the water immediately turning on before she falls to her knees near the toilet to wretch quietly.
*
Laying there, still facing the ceiling, Frank shakes his head a bit and laughs in a very dry, dark way to himself.
"So damn soft…"
*