The Punisher

Hey kid. Tf you doin here?

Nice avatar. You want some makeup and bows to go with it?

Want me ta make ya somthin... Or.... Order somthin. All i got is coffee and beer here.

*Frank doesn't seem drunk at least, but he still looks... Not quite okay. Bags under his eyes and his jacket looks a bit baggier than it should*

I know you're probably not up for going out, yet, but if I brought you a home-cooked meal, would you eat it?

Would you, uh, would ya be eatin with me? I can... I can try. Yeah...

*Flashes a weary smile that is trying to be genuine*

Hey Karen. Tried to clean the place a bit. C'mon in.

I didn't really think you entertain visitors much, so I brought paper plates and cups, and silverware." *She tips her head toward the basket.* And I made lasagna. This is my grandmother's secret recipe, so I better not hear your complain. *teasing*

*Frank closes the door behind her. The room is a bit cleaner. The guns are in a duffel bag, and there are no emoty beer cans in the ground, just some on top of the mini fridge, and if Karen had to guess, probably inside it too.*

*Frank doesn't seem drunk at least, but he still looks... Not quite okay. Bags under his eyes and his jacket looks a bit baggier than it should*

I know you're probably not up for going out, yet, but if I brought you a home-cooked meal, would you eat it?

Would you, uh, would ya be eatin with me? I can... I can try. Yeah...

*Flashes a weary smile that is trying to be genuine*

Hey Karen. Tried to clean the place a bit. C'mon in.

*Frank doesn't seem drunk at least, but he still looks... Not quite okay. Bags under his eyes and his jacket looks a bit baggier than it should*

I know you're probably not up for going out, yet, but if I brought you a home-cooked meal, would you eat it?

Would you, uh, would ya be eatin with me? I can... I can try. Yeah...

*Flashes a weary smile that is trying to be genuine*

*Frank doesn't seem drunk at least, but he still looks... Not quite okay. Bags under his eyes and his jacket looks a bit baggier than it should*

I know you're probably not up for going out, yet, but if I brought you a home-cooked meal, would you eat it?

Would you, uh, would ya be eatin with me? I can... I can try. Yeah...

*He seems tired*

Yeah... Yeah. Fuck. Sorry. Didn't mean to be rude.

*Frank is definitely drunk*

Can I come in? Before you scare your neighbors.

*Frank walks back into his apartment. It looks very basic a kitchen and a bigger room. It is mostly empty save for a couch that looks like it's been there for ages, a mini fridge, a tote, and both guns and empty bottles litter the floor in piles*

Wanna talk about it?

Sorry about the mess. Didn't expect no company.

And you need to sober up. Badly. Where the hell is your coffee-maker? *She scans the kitchen area, but it looks empty.* And when was the last time you ate something?

Food. Right.... What day if the week is it? Thursday?

Drink this. I can't talk to you much when you have enough alcohol in you that this apartment smells like a distillery. When you can walk without falling down, will you come with me down the street to the diner? We'll get some coffee and food in you?

*he seems hesitant to ask the question, like he is afraid of the answer*

*She lifts her free hand and gently places it on his shoulder, keeping her movements slow so she doesn't startle him.*

*he takes a sip and he almost startles at the cold water, anybody else wouldn't be able to tell, but this close to Frank (both emotionally and physically), Karen can tell*

*She gives him a minute of silence to rest and hopefully clear his head before she speaks again.* Feeling any better...?

*they are there. But... Those are prescription painkillers. Where the hell is he getting those, because she knows damn well he is not going to see a doctor*

*She sucks in a breath between her teeth.* That's some strong stuff. Did you get hurt on a job?

*he chucks about 3 or 4 into his mouth and crunches down on them and chugs the rest of his water*

*he mumbles it like it was something that has been annoying him for a while*

*Frank is definitely drunk*

Can I come in? Before you scare your neighbors.

*Frank walks back into his apartment. It looks very basic a kitchen and a bigger room. It is mostly empty save for a couch that looks like it's been there for ages, a mini fridge, a tote, and both guns and empty bottles litter the floor in piles*

Wanna talk about it?

Sorry about the mess. Didn't expect no company.

And you need to sober up. Badly. Where the hell is your coffee-maker? *She scans the kitchen area, but it looks empty.* And when was the last time you ate something?

Food. Right.... What day if the week is it? Thursday?

Drink this. I can't talk to you much when you have enough alcohol in you that this apartment smells like a distillery. When you can walk without falling down, will you come with me down the street to the diner? We'll get some coffee and food in you?

*he seems hesitant to ask the question, like he is afraid of the answer*

*She lifts her free hand and gently places it on his shoulder, keeping her movements slow so she doesn't startle him.*

*he takes a sip and he almost startles at the cold water, anybody else wouldn't be able to tell, but this close to Frank (both emotionally and physically), Karen can tell*

*She gives him a minute of silence to rest and hopefully clear his head before she speaks again.* Feeling any better...?

*they are there. But... Those are prescription painkillers. Where the hell is he getting those, because she knows damn well he is not going to see a doctor*

*She sucks in a breath between her teeth.* That's some strong stuff. Did you get hurt on a job?

*he chucks about 3 or 4 into his mouth and crunches down on them and chugs the rest of his water*