frank's brow shines with sweat in the light of the gymnasium of @kenosky's making. he's not exhausted—and, truth be told, he wouldn't stop even if he were—but he teeters dangerously close to winded. the dry-fit shirt and sweats—courtesy of elektra, too—are soaked through as well, dark hair curled with moisture.

there's little doubt his skin is flushed from exercise, too. and yet, save for the flush of elektra's skin and pants from agape lips, she's more or less nonplussed.

"YOU MAKE ME FEEL SO DELICATE."

the statement follows frank's punch to her diaphragm that'd been expertly blocked, and he doesn't need to look at her face to know she's smiling.

unfortunately, frank's sense of honor only extends so far. and it's with a smirk of his own that he reaches for her arm to pull her in closer, then for a quick handful of dark hair to tug with decidedly undelicate force.