15926/Return to Hell

Return to Hell
Date of Scene:	23 September 2023
Location:	Josie's Bar
Synopsis:	Frank meets Quiet and they grab a drin, then head to the Foxhole for some heart to heart talk.
Cast of Characters:	Frank Castle, Quiet

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Frank Castle has posed:
    Frank Castle had been quiet for some time, the name 'The Punisher' was a ghost story among some of the Denizens of Manhattan. Especially the criminal element. There was perhaps a time when that name alone kept thugs at bay. However, when there was a lull in activity from their ghost of a Savior, this emboldened the nerdowells. Crime, as it often was, spiked. Despite the host of Hero's now emerging from Hell's Kitchen.

    Perhaps they were too clean cut, too forgiving. Willing to let these criminals go in the hope they'd change their ways. That was not the way of the Punisher. For what ever reason Frank Castle had taken time away from his righteous rampage, he had returned back to basics. Back home to clean up where he was born. There were plenty of easy targets here. Plenty of drug dealers, Sex Traffickers, horrible people to string up by a single ankle and leave hanging gutted like livestock...

    Which of course he did. It was on the news... and he left the Symbol of the Punisher. The large skull haphazardly spray painted on some nearby building.

    Today though, as evening approached and the sun started to set, Frank was exiting Foggwell's gym. Sweaty from a work out, knuckles bruised from sparring or his nocturnal activities. Scuffed nose and busted lip. He walked along the sidewalk towards the bar like a normal person in a T-shirt and Jeans, leather jacket draped over his shoulder.

Quiet has posed:
Quiet had spent an entire decade living in the Afghanistan deserts. After that self-inflicted isolation, she'd managed to make her way out in to society again. There she fell back on what she knew... killing. She made herself a profitable income by working for some of the arguably worst people in the world. She wasn't a hero. She was a gun for hire. She was a killer. But she had her own morals. She only killed the worst people. She only took contracts to kill people that were clearly harming others. Clearly making a negative impact upon the world around them, these are who fell under Quiet's reticle. Make of that, what you will, but those who ran in that circle could have often heard whispers of the woman who could turn in to a ghost. The Afghans had legends about this desert spirit that would come in all manner of styles, but 'fear' was generally apart of every one of them.

Here and now? Quiet sits behind the wheel of her van, parked outside the bar that Frank is strolling toward. The windows on her van are rolled down, and she's got one foot up on the dash board in front of her as she stares at her phone in her hands. Wearing a black tanktop and fishnets on her legs, she seems like your average New York 'punk girl' if one were to just glance inside the van on their way by. How she ended up in New York City after all this time though? Who knows!

Frank Castle has posed:
    Frank was always watching his back. It came with the territory. Not exactly perpetually paranoid but his battles with the spooks of the US Government through-out his vigilante career had made him as such. He was known to them, mainly because of his service. He'd been to Afghanistan himself. Iraq. All of the wars up until his wife and child were killed. Served from the mid nineties until... well. It was a very bad day at the beach.

    New York was not the quiet still of the Afghan desert. It was loud and chaotic, like a firefight. Perhaps that was comforting for him. He operated well under such pressure... That's what was normal for him anyways.

The glint of the grill on Quiet's van catches Frank's eye. A passing glance. Then a double take. He stops. Frank had his own Van, Equipped every which way for whatever mission he needed. He slept, ate, and breathed in the small confined space. Sure he had safe houses but preferred to stay mobile. This Van though, Quiet's Van. It was the same body type as his... and he as missing a grill.

    See, Frank had run over some drug dealer hitting on some underage girl. A lost soul from Happy Harbor High who thought she was a bad girl but really wasn't. Ran him right over. Blood everywhere. It really was a mess and it dented his hood. He managed to get the dent out but the crack in the grill was not going to buff out.

    He approached Quiets Van, moving right in front of it, and bent down to take a look at the grill.

Quiet has posed:
Everything Quiet has been through in the past 40+ years have lead her to being not your conventional person. She's an anti-materialistic woman at this stage of her life, and thus the mimmicking mirror of similarities between the two shines through in the form of their mobile office and bunks.

Quiet continues to casually swipe her phone's screen, right up to the point where the man steps in front of her vehicle and crouches down. She notices it out of the corner of her eyes, and with a curious expression falling across her face, she lowers her phone and pops the door open. A little troll doll with green hair waves back and forth by a collection of Mardi Gras beads that hang from the van's rear-view mirror as Quiet shuts the door behind her.

A moment later Frank will see two black military boots stepping over to his side, and two long legs encased in black fishnets that rise up to the rest of the young looking woman. Her hands rest on her hips now, a pair of short army-green denim shorts covering her upper legs and waistline, the black tanktop having a picture of Mr. T on the chest. She stares down at Frank with one lofted eyebrow over one green eye.

Clearly she's questioning the man's intentions, without verbally engaging him...

Frank Castle has posed:
    What Quiet would find as she stepped out of her Van and onto the street was Frank spit shining the Grill of her Van, making sure he could see his own reflection in the chrome. There was a satisfied smile as he did this. As if he had accomplished some major life goal. Her booted feet appearing beside him caught his attention. He turned his head, eyes starting at those boots and then moving slowly up her fish-netted legs. They lingered there a moment before reaching her Mr. T tank-top... then her neck. Her lips, then stopping at her gray-green eyes. He stood up then, not once removing his blue gaze from hers. A gaze that said a lot. She could tell he'd seen combat. Haunted by it by the way he carried himself. Always ready to pounce at a moments notice. A bit of hesitation in guilt as he stared at her too long.

    After a long silence and awkward stare, Frank spoke. "Where do you get the parts for this thing?" He asked simply, almost blurted out with a stammer in his dark voice. He was wearing a tight shirt that showed off his muscles, a band T from the early 80's: Megadeth. He was clearly someone who kept up with a rigorous exercise regiment. His pants were just as tight but not as showy as his shirt, perhaps opposite of Quiet. HE didn't really smile, perhaps stared a bit too much. Intense was one was to describe him.

Quiet has posed:
There is no question that Quiet was able to spot a military man within a moment. She saw it in him before he even stood up. When he did stand, she just remained as so. Hands on her hips, her eyes on his, her head slightly tilting to the right a little as she interrogated his eyes with her own, her brow furrowing ever-so-slightly in thought.

His question doesn't get an answer. Not immediately. It might even start to annoy him a bit. But before he can ask again, or say anything else, her hands bounce up in front of her stomach to show her fingers, and facial expression now speaking to him in the form of American Sign Language.

She has no idea if he knows it or not, but she puts out enough for him to likely understand at least what she's doing, if nothing else. Is she deaf? He might think so at first.

A couple walks behind Quiet on the sidewalk, clearly tourists, and they both eye the woman speaking with her hands, then eye Frank as they continue on toward the intersection a few paces away.

Frank Castle has posed:
    There was no irritation visible on Frank's face, just a quiet sort of expectation from the woman in front of him. A slight tilt of the head as they had their quiet starring contest. Perhaps he stepped a bit closer to her... consciously or not. Finally he hands raised and his eyes refocused to watch them sign. There was no care for those looking at them. All he was focused on was her, him, and any potential threats they faced in that moment. There weren't any... currently. It was Hell's Kitchen and that could easily change.

    He had learned many languages, perhaps not fluently, but enough to operate with elite black ops units elsewhere in the world. Perhaps ASL wasn't his first, nor did he use it that often. He thought she was signing battle signs at him at first, a flashback to clearing a mud hut in Iraq quickly surfaced... but his logic got the better of him. Her words started to form in his head as she signed, recalling the syntax from deep within his brain.

    He raised his own hand. <<Sorry...>> He signed. <<Just was wondering about parts for your Van. I've a 95 that needs work.>> He keeps his eyes on hers as they spoke.

Quiet has posed:
Quiet is nodding before he can even work out his sign language skills again. She does show him a quick smile upon her pink-hued lips before she turns toward her van again, and walks back toward it. With the window on the door still open, Quiet just leans inside it, and pulls out her phone.

Turning back toward him then, she raises the device up to swipe it's screen, then tap a few different spots. The phone is positioned with care in front of her and she speaks in to it... in the form of only moving her lips. The phone processes what she was saying, then it speaks in a soothing female voice for her.

"I can hear. I just cannot speak." The phone relays, as Quiet's green eyes stare at the man's expression. The phone continues. "I have a dealer in Westchester who I bought this from. He can hook you up with parts." The pleasing voice states, and Quiet just smiles in a friendly way toward him.

Frank Castle has posed:
    Frank watches her curiously as her demeanor changes. There's a tilt of his head and a slight chuckle. He smiled...

    Wait. Frank Castle was smiling? The guilt of actually feeling /something/ starts to sink in and his usual scowl returns, features flattening in time for Quiet to return with her phone and translate through it. His brows raise. "That'd be great. Money isn't an obstacle. Just been having trouble finding parts." He nods his appreciation towards her.

    He turns the front of his foot against the pavement, perhaps a nervous tick. There is silence and likely a whole new group of people watching these two interact. "I was heading into the bar." He offers Quiet, signing before thumbing over his shoulder. "Let me buy you a drink?"

Quiet has posed:
While Frank speaks, Quiet pulls the door open to her van to reach for something inside. She leans over the driver's seat, and pops open a compartment on the inner center console. It takes her a moment, but she pulls out a slip of paper that she tears in half. When she leans back out of the vehicle, she offers Frank the paper, and he'll note there's an address on it for a Truck and Van shop in Westchester.

Quiet strokes a loose strand of hair out of her face then, the rest mostly tied back behind her shoulders in a loose ponytail. She hears the invite for a drink inside the bar, her eyes darting over to it before she returns them to him. She considers the question, then nods her head two small times.

Her van is sealed up with a push of a button on her phone, the doors audibly locking and the windows all closing up as well. When she shuts the door an alarm beeps across the vehicle too, likely not all that different from Frank's own setup...

"I am Stefani." She says through the device with a push of a button, having some common phrases pre-programmed in to the app she's using, clearly!

She'll follow him to the bar's door then, and step inside with him.

Frank Castle has posed:
    Frank watches her every move. Not because he finds her to be a threat, though he probably could absolutely hold her own against him or even get one up on him. No, he watches her because there is an interest there. The way she moved. The way she tucked the strand of hair behind her ear. It reminded him of...

    He blinks, breaking that gaze for a moment. The voice of the device pulling him out of what was probably going to be some type of flashback. That was the first time anyone could do that do him. He was focused, entirely on her. "Hey Stef, I'm Frank." he smiles just a bit, the corner of his mouth rising at the least. He nods and after she locks up her home, turns with her towards the bar.

Frank Castle has posed:
    The Bar was a dive of course. The kind of place where beat and vice cops rubbed elbows with the obvious criminal element. Frank came here to get the gossip. The word on corrupt cops and criminal enterprises in the area. Also, the drink was good and helped steady himself if he was healing from a bad wound(s) or just having a bad day.

    Today though neither was the case. As he entered with Quiet they might get a look or two from the less savory types in the darker corners of the establishment. Either way, Frank walked right up to the bar and leaned on the counter. "I'll have a whiskey on the rocks." His gaze turns Quiet, "What'd you like?" Asked verbally and signed as well.

Quiet has posed:
Quiet is right there beside him as he reaches the bar, her hands going to rest on its edge. Her eyes go to the back of the bar to view whatever is on display beyond it. When she is asked what she'll have, it draws her attention back to Frank, then to the bartender. She needs a moment, but once she has it on her phone she has it speaking up again in lieu of her own voice.

"Vodka cranberry, please." The device says, eliciting a small smirk from the young looking woman.

A second later and she is parking herself on the edge of one of the bar's stools, and regarding Frank. She stares at him for a second before she has her phone asking a question.

"How long were you in the service?" Clearly knowing outright that he was without having to confirm it. This may or may not surprise him, considering she's not exactly your typical soldier in looks and style, even if there is 'something' about her.

Frank Castle has posed:
    Frank narrows his brows a bit, a small smirk coming to his lips as Stef asks about his time in the service. "Hey, just because I take care of myself doesn't mean I was in the Service." Was he flirting? It was entirely self evident to Frank that he was. Stefanie was, well. She was not ugly. He had been single mindfully focused on his goal for a long time, without much time for anything else. Why would he? He was still a married man, at least in his eyes.

    So when he caught himself letting his guard down with the woman on the stool next to him, he steadied himself and became sober again. He took a seat next to her and cleared his throat. His glass was put in front of him allowing him to fiddle with it for a spell. "Oh, I joined the marines in Ninety Five right out of High School." There is a pause as he seems to flash over his entire career. "Just about short of twenty years." Which means he left just before the invasion happened here in NY... for what ever reasons.

    He takes a drink and focuses his eyes on her once again. "How about you? Clearly you've got /something/ going on." He nods out towards the Van.

Quiet has posed:
Quiet was used to being flirted with. In all manner of styles, and quality. It comes with the territory of having her physical age locked in to a point in her biological timeline that could easily be declared 'one's best years.' One could say she got lucky in that regard, but to get there she had to be set on fire, and be immolated for an unknown amount of time before the enigmatic scientists did what they did to her to bring her back to 'life.'

Here and now, the woman who looks to be in her mid 20s, just smiles at the man beside her. She does that lip-reading gesture to the app, which speaks in a fairly nice simulation of emotions that it captures from her facial scan whenever she uses it too, advanced tech stuff!

"I joined in my late teens in the 1970s." The phone reads. "I was active in to the mid 1980s, when something unexpected happened... It has lead me to where I am now. Still here, but... not the person I was then."

How close is the phone's voice to Quiet's own, if she still has one at all.

When her drink arrives, she happily smiles a sincere expression of pleasant thanks to the barkeep before she raises the red-hued drink up to her lips to take a testing sip from its contents.

Frank Castle has posed:
    Frank is, taken aback. "Nineteen Seven-?" His eyes look her over. Nope, here was this attractive twenty something sitting next to him in a Mr. T tank top and fishnet stockings. There was absolutely no way he heard that right. So what does he do? He leans over and takes a look at the text on the phone. His fears come to pass. She did say nineteen Seventy.

    With how things were, he shouldn't be surprised. She gave off that kind of vibe. Someone much older than they appeared to be. "Well I'll be damned. No kidding?"

    Still a bit flabber gasted, Frank finished off his whiskey and tapped the bar top for another. "So then what do you do now? Merc work?" He knew plenty of folks from the service now in the private sector. Including himself... just perhaps not as dedicated to their own personal Jihad like he was.

    The doors to the Bar opened then and a few loud Hooligans stepped in, clearly looking to continue the party they were having somewhere else. They mosey on up towards the bar and crowd up the space near Quiet and Frank. Frank clears his throat and downs another drink. The men who came in seem overly interested in Quiet, for obvious reasons. Drunk, unsatisfied males... what could they want? Frank knew, he just wasn't looking forwards to loosing a good drinking spot.

    "Hey there sweetheart. They don't get girls that look like you in here often." The smooth talking leader said, complete in track suit, gold chain with fake chest hair.

    Frank just starts laughing outloud. THe group looks at him like he just killed their grandparents.

Quiet has posed:
The reaction that her blunt revelation about her age gets on Frank's face just has her smiling softly at him. She's used to it. She's pretty open about it here in New York. There are few reasons not to be. Manhattan is one of the most 'progressive' places in the world, especially when it comes to strange cases like her. She just nods her head a couple soft times before she's about to write something else down on her phone when the door opens.

She'd glanced back over her shoulder at the arriving group, but had quickly dismissed them and gone back to tapping on her phone when the group sidled up over her left shoulder, and summarily began to try and garner her attention.

This got a bit of a double-take from the young looking woman, who put her eyes on the man that just addressed her. She just shows him a playful expression before she raised her hands up and signed something to him.

'You smell like vomit.' Her hands and body language conveyed, not really expecting any of the men to know ASL. She just knows most see she is a 'disabled woman' and that alone generally makes people lose interest.

Though her physical looks often keep them around even still, but she's happy to escalate things if the drunks so desire.

Either way she looks back to Frank, shunning the men over her shoulder. She hits send on what she'd been putting in her phone and it reads off her words once more.

"I served in Afghanistan with a group called the Diamond Dogs. We got in some rough action though, and it lead to me having to set off on my own. merc work, yes. I work for SHIELD now though."

Frank Castle has posed:
    Frank laughs even more when Stef signs at them. "He does doesn't he." Frank takes another swig from his drink. "Look fella's. I'd go sit down herm? Plenty of other ladies about tonight?" It wasn't usually in Frank's Arsenal to be diplomatic but in this case, Intimidation was key. He made his large frame apparent. It was a dominance thing amungst males of the human species, one Stef was likely way too familiar with. The smaller drunk and his pals backed off, grabbing what they ordered with a wrinkle towards the 'disabled woman' and her far too fit for his age friend at the bar.

    Frank turned his attention back to Stef, "Diamond Do-... did you know Kazuhira Miller?" He asks with brows furrowed. "Ah SHIELD. Never worked with them." Or maybe he did, it's possible. They would certainly never openly hire him.

Quiet has posed:
The question about Miller just gets Stef to tilt her head in curiosity at Frank. Her eyes drop back down to her phone then, as her back is to those drunken men behind her, her ssenses surely still paying some attention to what they're doing.

It takes her about a minute, before she turns her phone around and offers it for him to look at. Upon its screen is a group photo of a large number of the Diamond Dogs standing together, including Stef and a Husky canine near the front of the group. The two of them stick out against all the army fatigue wearing men, especially since Stef is wearing a ... well, it's revealing, whatever that fashion is, and the giant sniper rifle in her arms ain't nothing to sneer at either. The photo has a aged look to it, even if it's on her phone, clearly it is dated back to the 80s and Frank can probably spot gear from that era on some of the members of the team.

When she pulls the phone back, she sets her glass down after another sip before she signs to him.

'A long time ago.'

The signed words are followed by another smile on her full lips before she types in to her phone again, and it soon speaks for her.

"After I got separated from them, I had to spend quite a lot of time on my own. By the time I came back, they were .. dust in the wind. Right around when you joined up, it seems."

Frank Castle has posed:
    Frank was perhaps unsure as to why Quiet was openly revealing this information. Something he would have never done to a stranger. Then again, she was with a government sanctioned organization and had nothing to fear. Him? He was at worst a terrorist and at best a vigilante who clearly could use some therapy.

    There was one thing though, he didn't feel bothered by Quiet. He noticed, that he didn't need the booze to take the edge off. He presence allowed him to open up. He looked at her photo, leared his throat a bit as his eyes roamed over her more revealed body. Then to the rifle at her back. "Oh wow, Stef. Do you still have that Paker-Hale?" What a rifle. There was a glance to Kaz before he looked to her, his eyes wandering over the curves that he had saw in the picture even though they were more covered in this setting. "Kaz was an instructor when I got my first SPECOPS assignment. He disappeared after that. Not sure what happened." He shrugs. There's a soft smile as he regards her somberly, fingers of one of his hands playing at the paper she gave him for that shop in West Chester. There is a moment of hesitation before he holds out his hand. "Give me your phone for a second?" He asks.

    If she lets him have it, he'll put in his number, adding a contact as Francis with a phone number and an address. "Here." He says, handing back the phone. "Call me if you need some help on a mission... or stop by and we can work on the Van. Maybe shoot a few rounds. Have a drink without the vomit smell." He chuckles.

Quiet has posed:
Quiet was one to openly invite the ire of her potential enemies at this stage of her life. Fearless, wasn't the right word, but Fearless Adjacent might be getting closer to the mark.

The question of the rifle gets a big smirk upon her visage, along with a pair of quick nods to confirm that she does indeed still have it. She lets him have her phone too, and when he returns it, she glances over what he'd entered, before she regarded him again, and raised her free hand up to give him a light salute along with a continued soft smile.

She taps something in to the phone, then speaks to it without using her voice. The phone soon speaks for her again.

"I am curious to hear some of your story, but I would not ask of it here. Vomit stains, and all. I will tell my Van guy that he might have a new customer calling too." The voice says for her, a grin playing across Quiet's lips as she takes another sip of her drink, and glances to the bar where the mirror resides on the wall across from it.

Mirrors like that provide a nice tactical frame of reference to know everything that is going on behind you, like a group of rowdy drunks that may or may not be checking out one's behind.

Frank Castle has posed:
    Frank gets a smirk as she confirms she still has her rifle, a sparkle in his eyes. Then there's a sad flash to Frank's eyes as she asks to hear some of his story. His small smirk turns into a slight frown and he nods, taking a breath. A hand reaches out to touch her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. "I'd share. For you I'd share."

    He looks to the mirror as well, noticing Stef's rear himself and then the other's looking at it. There's a bit of disdain that keeps up in his features, pursing his lips not just for those looking at her but for himself being just as bad as they were. His hand still on her shoulder, he asks. "I'm going to head out home, if you wanted to come for another drink?" There was no pressure or inference, just an offer to get out of the dive and perhaps talk a bit more about his story... and maybe hers too.

Quiet has posed:
Some things just come with the territory. Bars are often as they are, after all. The hand to her shoulder gets Quiet to look back up to Frank, and the question has her showing a faint smirk and a little nod. The phone reads off a "Certainly." in simple response before Quiet indulges in another swig of her drink.

The glass is set back down, the young looking woman sliding off the stool once more. She glances around the interior of the bar itself then, looking back deeper within it. She'd actually driven out here to come in to this bar anyway, but Frank had caught her on a bit of an idle position outside before she'd come in. She glances toward that group of gold chain wearing fellas, and just smirks at them before she waggles the fingers of her right hand in their direction, and turns to walk toward the door.

Frank Castle has posed:
    Of course as Frank left the bar with Stef, he looked over his shoulder at the drunks and smirked. After all, it was him leaving with the seemingly young twenty something and not them. Perhaps that boosted his ego a bit. He honestly hadn't felt like that since... He and his wife. The butterflies. So on and so forth. He hadn't felt that in very very long time.

    Without another work, Frank hops in Stef's Van with her and directs her towards the address he had saved in her phone. All the way to Downtown Manhattan and into the depths of t he Subway. Here was The Foxhole, his hide out. Somewhere he didn't show anyone but those he trusted... and for some reason he trusted Stef. Would it be his downfall? Probably but life had been boring for the last few months...

    "It's not much... just watch your step. My partner like to leave things everywhere..." There's a sofa near a television in a kitchen area open to the rest of the establishment. Frank pops open the cap of a bottle of Vodka, like she had been drinking at the bar, and pours them both a drink. As he turns to offer the drink to her he nods towards the Van, "That's my '95 right there if you wanted to take a look."

Quiet has posed:
During the drive, Frank would've likely had time to glance back in to Quiet's van. He'd of seen a number of military style footlockers, storage cases not unlike what he probably has in spades himself. A hammock in the back corner denotes a simple sleeping space, and some monitors mounted on the wall of the van showcase her tech side a bit, and hint at her surveilence skills even.

She is a risk, no doubt about it. Could be a femme fatele type. Or, she could be exactly as she seemed.

Once they arrive at his place, her own vehicle is parked not far from his, and she exits her driver side seat with a following thud of the door closing shut. Her eyes start to roam the place over, and a smile once more spreads across her visage. Her eyes are quick to dart to his own van though, and soon she's leaning against it to peer inside the driver side window of his own ride. She peers for just a few moments before she is looking to where he is making those drinks. She turns to walk toward him then, approaching with a casual stride, and her hands pressing against the back of her hips. She's grinning, something amusing her, clearly.

The drink is accepted though, and she takes a swig of it before she sets the glass down and simply signs 'Looks good.' to him.

Her phone is produced again and she's got it reading for her within moments.

"I do not have this much even. You practically have a mansion compared to me." The device says as the woman starts to wander a bit, looking around at the elements that are visible to her. She's openly curious, and her confident stride in how she moves is evident with every step.

"How many work with you?" She asks through the phone, glancing back at him then. Could be a sus questions, or could just be an honest take on the need of a place like this.

Frank Castle has posed:
    Somehow Quiet had managed to get the most guarded man in New York to open up and bring her to his most sacred area. She still might indeed be the end of him but if she was, there was no-one more worthy he had decided.

    He smirked watching her inspect his Van, his eyes roaming over her figure as she leaned over into the driver's side window. The inside looked fairly similar to hers. "It's not always about how much you have. Believe it or not I actually prefer the Van. This is mostly for my Partner and he isn't Military." He takes a sip of his drink, his eyes never once breaking from her. "It's just me and the brainiac." He offers in response to her question. "I've worked with some of the local do gooders around but I prefer to do my own thing." He takes a seat on the sofa and sighs. "If you ever needed to borrow anything, you're welcome to. You know where this is now." Frank says with a shrug. "I got all this after I took down the people who killed my family." He finally says. "Took what money I needed to set me up. To make sure no others felt the pain I did ever again. I burned the rest or gave it to victims." He stares outwards, silence falling over him, finger playing against the glass of his drink. "It was a long time ago but I never forget why I started doing what I do. I'll never stop. Not until every evil bastard pays their price."

Quiet has posed:
It is right around the time that he mentions his family's fate that Quiet comes to sit down on the edge of the arm of the sofa. She just leans back against it and cradles the glass of booze in her right hand as her phone is held against the front of her stocking covered thigh. She watches him as he talks, studies him as he stares distantly ahead.

She knwos that stare, it is the stare of a soldier with countless ghosts haunting his head.

There is silence for a moment before she breaks it with the use of her phone.

"Don't be too serious all the time, Frank." The phone says in a bit of a ghostly voice itself, and after it speaks that, Quiet extends a mini Troll doll to him, this one wearing a pair of camo BDUs, with wavy yellow hair. She offers it to him, along with another smile.

Should he take it, she'd stand up then to casually roam some more, staying just within his peripheral before she ends up back over near where he is, the phone primed to talk again.

"You are a capable fighter. You leave bad people dead in your wake. This is something I know. But, I still try to smile anyway." The phone speaks for her, but she follows it up with a little flutter of her eyelashes for him should he look her way again.

Frank Castle has posed:
    Frank blinks, coming out of his serious stupor as Quiet speaks... or rather her phone does. He listens to the words, the doll offered now grabbing his attention. He smirks just a bit and laughs, taking the doll. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he was far too serious all the time.

    "Well, I'd by lying if I said killing bad people didn't make me smile. It sure as hell does." And if it made her smile too, he might have found his match. "Who's this?" He asks about the doll.

    As she nears him once more, he stands, watching her as she flutters his eyes lashes at him. There's a slight hesitation, but the large ex-marine approaches her. Closer and closer her gets, a hand moving gentle to touch her face. His finger, if she lets him, traces down from a stand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. Then is slowly presses against her skin and down her jawline. His eyes search hers, asking for permission in a silent way. His face inches closer towards hers.

Quiet has posed:
Quiet is only a few steps away from the sofa when he stands up. His question just gets a grin from the young looking woman when he asks about the soldier's identity, but she doesn't reply. She merely stands there, watches him as he steps up to her, and raises her chin up just a little in confident defiance of her space being invaded. But she doesn't pull away. She just makes an expressive gesture with her facial features, glancing up and away in thought for a moment before he graces the soft texture of her skin with his fingertips.

She's looking back at him then, her green gaze serious now.

He leans in for a kiss, and she's not pulling away. She indulges it, her full lips just as soft as the touch of her skin on his fingertip had been. Warm and plyable against his own.

She stands there before him like this for a moment before her phone just speaks, breaking the tension of the kiss and causing her to pull back.

"Howdy." The phone says, her thumb having pressed a pre-programmed button on the screen's interface, which has her grinning at him there-after.

Frank Castle has posed:
    There's something in Frank as his lips meet hers that breaks. A wall or dam. Something bursts and he smiles. Smiles against the softness of her youthen lips. He presses into the kiss, his hands moving to grasp at her arms gently.

    He's startled a bit at the noise from her phone, her pulling away causing him to focus down on the device in her hand. He looks back at her, then to it, then back to her as she grins. He slowly grins too, a light in his eyes showing for once. It had been so long. He laughs then, a hearty and real laugh.