I Like Shows About Crying

"So, you were an artist…!" Kinger said out loud to himself, gleeful that he had finally learned something of substance about Frankie. Then, something occurred to him. "…I don't think I've seen you draw anything." It was a more of a statement than a question as he struggled to be sure of what he may or may not remember.

Frankie hesitated before responding. "…C-Cartoonist. I… made cartoons. Ringo took care of the, uh. The 'business' parts, I guess." He kept quickly sweeping the room with his eyes, trying to do anything other than make eye contact with Kinger. "People really liked my cartoons. A, um. A place- park- wanted to retheme some of its stuff around my things." He shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "It was… cool." He looked down at his two sets of arms, anxiously interlacing them together in various combinations. "Things really took off. I guess. I guess Ringo bought back the, err… 'rights' to some of those characters from my early on stuff, and…" He trailed off, unsure where to continue.

After seeing that Frankie was done talking, Kinger offered a question for Frankie to answer. "Do you want us to get you some drawing supplies? Gangle already has some, I'm sure we have extra-"

Frankie shook his head as he interrupted Kinger. "I haven't- No, I haven't drawn anything s-serious in a long time-"

"How come?" Kinger winced for a moment, mentally berating himself for speaking before he thought. He was actually getting somewhere for once, and now he was pushing Frankie.

There was a long beat of silence. "My hands shake now." It was said more confidently than usual for Frankie. Kinger raised a brow at this. "You mean… like tremors?"

Frankie nodded. With all of his usually fidgeting and jittery movements, it was something that had been overlooked. "…It's worse when I try to draw. I was, um… told that stressing over it makes it worse."

Kinger mulled over this new information for a moment, carefully crafting a response. "You may not be as coordinated, but it shouldn't stop you from drawing altogether. Especially if that's how you've made your living."

Frankie seemed indifferent. "Other people do the cartoons now. I'm just… the face of it all." Kinger responded in a gentle tone. "…Why not try to draw for yourself, then?"

Quiet overtook the room. Frankie's six eyes stared blankly into the corner of the room. His pupils darted back and forth, lost in a memory.

Kinger was about to speak up- to try and softly bring Frankie out from his own mind- when the other individual spoke. "It makes me think of her."

It didn't take the chess piece much time at all to recognize what Frankie was saying. After all, he was very familiar with losing someone you loved. However, Kinger at least had something left of Queenie. Frankie had nothing left of the person he loved- not even a name to remember her by.

"…I guess you d-deserve to know." Frankie said, unprompted. Kinger tried to supress the sudden concern that overcame him. "No one DESERVES to know anything if you don't want to tell them."

Frankie shrugged off the chess piece's advice. "We were in a car. A few weeks after our one year anniversary." Frankie's numbness to recalling the memory worried Kinger. "Someone hit us." Frankie unexpectedly looked up to meet Kinger's gaze. "My head was pinned to the seat." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I couldn't look away. I don't remember how long it was-" his eyes looked glazed over. "-but I didn't have to ask if she was okay"

"She died instantly. They said I was lucky." He finally broke eye contact with Kinger. His voice turned bitter. "Lucky. I'll never forget looking at her." He clenched his teeth together. "There was no life in her eyes." His mouth twisted into a smile. "But I was lucky." He looked back up at Kinger. That wrathful grin was still stuck on his face. "Can you imagine? The worst moment of your life being all over the news? You're getting asked to fucking comment on it for their shitty news scoop."

Kinger was struggling to come up with something to say. Every time he landed on a combination of words, Frankie had already barreled past that moment.

His eyes narrowed. He dropped his smile. "…She died a VERY long time ago." Kinger watched the other man's six pupils drift to a side of the room. "I died with her."

Should be in the right order (ignore numbers there is no missing panel)