Summary:Frank checks in on Betty at her new place. Log Info:Storyteller: {$storyteller} |
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There may have been little talks of where Betty use to live. A tiny apartment over a shop front in Queens. He was allowed to visit when he wanted, or needed. Her home was his refuge. A message was sent out to explain that she would be moving away from Queens, her mother had passed away, and her troubles were on a different scale. That scale tipped, howeer, during a short showing, live, on the 11 o'clock news.
Now a new message came, explaining to the avenger that her new lodges were located in Clinton, aka Hell's Kitchen. Again, it wasn't anything fancy, but thanks to a few ties here and there, and a few good words and advances from Jonah, the woman was given leave to move in and finally get her life back on track.
The location was smallish, a flat like before with only a couple of areas blocked off for privacy sake. Boxes were standing, the area was spartan with a specific lack of furnishings. In sock feet, shorts, and a tanktop, the dirty-blonde with a messy pony-tail shuffles around the kitchen, unpacking dishes.
The Punisher had his ways.
Though he wasn't around to protect Betty from Victor Zasz (he was kind of busy assassinating a mafia that dealt in human trafficking), Frank always kept tabs on her considering her past experience with forced servitude. Also, Frank watches the goddamn news.
So, after a bit of work in tracking down who's buying what and other detective work, Frank knocks on Betty's door, wearing a black t-shirt with jeans and a hooded leather jacket.
Few knew where she lived now. The knock was alarming, but with less paranoia and more determination in check, the blonde sets down her dishes and moves to claim her firearm. Keeping it down and by her side, she checks the peep-hole before unlatching one of several locks. Then another, and another. Peeking out, she notices who it is and then huffs a held breath, a bright smile coming to her face and pressing dimples into her cheeks.
"Allowing him in, she closes the door behind him and wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug, standing on tip-toes and keeping the weapon down. "Frank! I'm surprised to see you!"
Frank sees Betty was ready to shoot whoever walked through her door. Good, she's getting that much smarter. Thiugh as she pulls him into a hug, his arm moves around her waist and Frank seems to smile. "You look good. You alright? I heard what happened."
Frank was always so….to the point. But Betty was alive, and Frank could at least allow himself a partial breath of relief, though it doesn't show.
"Yeah? Well, you look good yourself." She winks, "How much did you hear?" She wonders, setting the locks back on the door and returning to the kitchen. Gun down, she starts unpacking again. All that's left of that evening seems to be a small bandage on the side of her throat. "I'm fine. Wish the guy was dead, but he's not. Probably won't be moving anytime soon." A shrug. "You want a drink? I don't have much yet but I have coffee, water, and beer." A pause, she remembers something. "Now that I'm back at work, I'll be starting that piece about you. If that's still ok."
Frank didn't seem to mind the subtle flirting that Betty sent his way, Though Frank is eyeballing the bandage on her throat. She was THAT close to being a victim. "Bastard should be dead. Who got him, the Bat?" Because he knows at least the capes who don't kill. "If you want to do the piece, I don't care. I'm a wanted man either way Betty."
"No, actually. Batman tried to save him, but Zsasz cut the cord himself. Fell and landed, now he's stuck in a hospital. I've consiered trying to get access to him. To…" A breath taken, she continues. "To end it myself, but that's not going to be easy what so ever." A shrug, she rocks a bit on her feet before digging out a couple of bottles of beer. "If I see him again, it's over. Decided not to run scared anymore ever again." A hiss-pop comes from each bottle as the pressure is released, sending the caps dancing across the tiny island. Padding his way, she offers him out a bottle. "You came all this way to check up on me?" She muses gently.
"It's not about you being a wanted man, Frank. It's about trying to make people understand the good you do."
"Of course I did. Went through the trouble of keeping you alive, I might as well keep you that way." Frank's a big softie on the inside, but his tough exterior is a hard thing to crack. But he takes a breath and he looks completely serious.
"I'd be able to put a bullet in his head. Easily. But I don't want the cops patrolling the streets when I come over." he accepts a bottle of beer.
Kind words from a reporter. "'Good' is relative"
"Trouble, huh?" She chuckles, taking time to clink their bottles together gently before taking a swig for herself. Back in the kitchen, she keeps working at the contents of a box. "You're probably not the only one wanting him dead. I'm sure the capes are looking after him now, too. There's other things to clean up around this city. I've…considered doing my part for it."
"Mmm, good is relative and subjective. But I'm very passionate about my beliefs. I believe in you and others need to, too. There needs to be an understanding." Another sip, she shifts to place some plates and bowls away.
"Scum like him have to die. No two ways about it. He still breathes, every time he cuts someone to pieces iscon the conscious of whoever let him live." Clearly Frank has made a firm decision about it. But then he looks at Betty as he sips his beer and she expresses belief in him. "Betty, in a system like this? The only understanding people will ever know is on both ends of a gun. Though as he watches her clean, he considers helping but this is not really…ya know, his thing.
"Yeah. I know. I've known that for a long time, though. Even back in Philly. I'm also agreeing with you. I, well, I wanted to kill the man who put my mom through hell." There's a pause in her words, a fluid cross against her chest suggesting a blessing for her passed mother. "I didn't get to. And then this fucker…Marked me for death for knowing too much. I only got to slash his face. I wanted access to him to end it. End him." A pause in her work, she sighs and returns to nursing her drink. "I need to know, though, is there something you want others to know? Something you want to say that no one is given you a chance to?" Turning, she leans against the counter, facing him directly. "I mean verbally. I know you leave a loud and clear message whenever you work."
Frank was stone-faced as Betty shares with him her traumatic experience. He's heard, done, and seen far…far worse to another human being. "You sure you're gonna be safe here, Betty?" Frank gestures to the apartment before Betty asks the prize-winning question. "Yeah. The scumbags know who they are and I'm coming for you." Is all Frank says. "Only thing that people need to know. It ain't revenge. Revenge is for weak-minded people. I'm here to punish." Frank then sips his bottle.
"What do you mean? Where would you suggest I go?" She asks gently, her head canting to the side as she considers him. "I can't allow them to steal my freedom in this city, Frank. I don't want to coware anymore. This is my home." A sip, she moves closer to him. "I'll get stronger." She promises to herself, and Frank alike. Hearing his message, she nods, offering his glass another touch in agreement. "Si vis pacem, para bellum, Frank. I'm on the fighting side now and with more than just my words."
Oh yay, Betty was gonna fight the good fight as it were? Frank looks….skeptical about this at best but he also doesn't want others getting involved in his war on crime. As Betty steps forward, Frank lifts a hand to her cheek if she allows. "You don't want to be in my world Bet."
Frozen in place for the moment, she feels the texture of his hand on her face. Her skin is soft and warm, staining a fair pink. "I didn't want to be, Frank, but I have been since I was 16. If I'm already here, I'm going to pick how I move about it." A pause, her brows dip before she moves her hand to gently wrap around his wrist. She doesn't force him to pull away, however. "Isn't that fair?"
Frank looks Betty in the eyes, as if a silent test of her resolve, though his hand falls from her cheek tobrestvat his side, Frank turns around. "Just don't get caught. You get caught, its a death sentence." Frank says rather…sternly, but there is care and concern hidden in his tone.
"You don't have to help me, but I wouldn't mind a pointer now and then." She tells him gently, watching as her turns. Setting her bottle down, she moves and positions herself in front of him. "Hey. You can still be here if you need a place to stay." A pause, she looks him over briefly. Both hands up, she cradles his face before pressing up on her sock toes, closing the distance between them, she presses her lips tenderly against his own. It's a brief embrace, genuine and soft. Before long, she's pulling away and swallowing. "Stay," she asks in a breath. "Stay for dinner?"
Frank was going to attempt to leave, but then he's kissed by Betty! For a brief moment, his hands rest on her hips before the kiss ends, and he's hands off. Frank looks conflicted, but he gives in this once. "Dinner." he agrees perhaps a little on the hesitant side, but he agrees nonetheless.