castigador | ( OPEN ) Frank Castle

[ frank raises his eyebrows, that place is distracting alright. and loud. which is funny for a guy who's only ever in new york or LA when he isn't taking over hydra jail but you know what: we never claimed he wasn't a huge hypocrite. ]

Go sit down, you can tell me while we eat. [ he nods his head to the table so he can serve her properly. ]

[She takes the out he offers; only pausing to drop his drink off at his seat before pouring her own from an already open bottle of wine. Once settled, Elektra starts in earnest.] It didn't take me long to get bored. Making myself richer than I already am isn't very entertaining for me. I went to the bar for a drink or four.

[She grimaces. Her judgment really does go downhill when she's bored.] Enough that the bartender started playing therapist.

[Elektra lets out a soft sigh, staring at her glass thoughtfully.] Fortunately for her, I'm much better at it because I don't waste my time listening to words. Bodies do not lie. Hers made it very plain that someone was hurting her on a regular basis.

[She stops here to dig into the food. Elektra has missed his cooking. Now is a good a time as any to let him guess at where she is going with this.]

[ he sits down across from her with a small nod of thanks for his drink. frank thinks of the sister for a moment and closes his eyes in silent prayer. in all his many stints in jail he'd never come back with any of the habits others do. but this time things had been... different. not like he's going to go back to the church any time soon, but he can at least pause before a meal. unfortunately, it gives him the focus to read between the lines of her story. his blue eyes come open, an angry heat in their gaze. ]

You found him. [ that's what they do, isn't it? he reluctantly takes a bite and washes it down with a sip. and then another longer one, he'd missed whiskey as much as she'd missed home cooking, apparently. ]

[Elektra nods, only explaining after a few more fantastic bites.] Without even trying. He was in the women's bathroom making crypt comments about why he had any business in there. I found her in one of the stalls; half her face and neck were purple.

[He'd know better than her what that means. Looking back, did she really have a choice? Lauren would have been another dead body otherwise. Her abuser was rapidly escalating.] Making sure I killed him with all of his men was the only inconvenient part. There's no point in taking most of them out if a survivor shot her the moment I left town.

[Elektra takes a long sip of wine.] Their deaths attracted the worst kind of attention.

[ frank has to smile softly as she recounts it, picturing the moment for himself. he hides any prolonged mirth behind his glass and it's gone a moment later when she mentions trouble. ]

Ongoing attention?

Most likely. Lauren said he had a ninja fetish and I don't think she is wrong. Lucky for us, there's a long list of people who want him dead. He is also absolutely pathetic excuse for a man who cannot win even after altering reality to ensure his victory. He's really no physical threat aside from disgusting me. [She rolls her eyes. Time to stop beating around the bush.]

Have you heard of Arcade?

[ he wrinkles his nose as he listens, eating though he's only getting madder as she goes on. that's not a new phenomenon and like she said she doesn't need him to take care of her problems. ]

These villain names are getting lamer and lamer... [ that's a no btw ] Should I?

[She shakes her head.] No. He's a low level assassin at best. His only claim to fame is trying to force teenagers with special abilities to fight to the death with varying degrees of success.

[Which sadly turned into more of an X-Men problem to Elektra's recollection given that most of the kids were predictably mutants. Elektra can't help thinking cynically that it's the human deaths that he's likely in jail for right now.] He told Wilson Fisk that I was in town killing casino owners. Fisk paid him to keep me there for a while.

[And so she has another weirdo fixated on her. It must be Wednesday.]

[ frank ducks his head over his plate to hide his expression. he knows he wouldn't have done anything differently, but that doesn't mean he gets any pleasure out of kids killing each other. though he looks back up and rolls his eyes at the mention of fisk. ]

Nothing you can't handle, right? [ it's flat - rhetorical. he starts shoveling in his meal to avoid talking about this anymore. ]

“Nothing I couldn't handle.” Elektra confirms. It had been strange. She's not used to robots or augmented reality. She survived as always. They both did. Her eyes travel to his hands as she lets that sink in. She had a close call as well even if there's no mark to show for it. She made it through thanks to a bartender. He'd survived thanks to a nun. They really were birds of a feather. She smiles at the thought and focuses on poorly devouring her food. Silence never troubled her. Now isn't the exception. She'll let it go on comfortably.

He ends up smiling to himself, as always bemused by how Elektra never picks up on any awkwardness. Frank catches her eyes by accident, notices her smile and quickly glances away.

"So, I, uh..." Frank swallows before nervously getting to his feet and gathering their plates without properly checking if she's done or not. He carts everything to the sink and leans against the counter to catch his breath that's suddenly shallowed. He's been through so much fucked up shit, but he realizes this moment is different because he had somewhere to go — someone to come home to. His knuckles go white and he closes his eyes, trying not to see Maria and his babies when he closes his eyes. No such luck.

It's easy to be oblivious when you are always looking for the wrong things in people. Elektra scans for distress or danger. She doesn't see anything that doesn't relate to survival in some way. That is what makes this reaction easier for her to understand. It's weakness. Her back straightens when she sees it in preparation to intervene against an enemy that won't show up here.

It's the reminder that no one is coming that makes her change mental tracks. The only one here to trouble Frank is Frank. She scowls to herself as she rises to her feet. It'd be easier if someone were trying to kill him. She very rarely gets this part right, comforting others, but she has to try for Frank.

She pads silently over, resting a hand on his arm in the barest of touches. She can't be sure what's welcome and what isn't. "Something is troubling you." It's stating the obvious without any demand. He doesn't have to tell her anything....

You could tell me, goes unsaid.

Frank's bicep jumps under her touch, and when he looks up his eyes crash into hers all over again. He hates how vulnerable he must look, less for himself and more because he knows it will make her uncomfortable, but he doesn't move away. Instead, he shifts closer, his free hand coming up to gently trace her cheek as his fingers settle gently on her throat.

"Just... tell me if you want me to stay or go. I don't have the energy to guess anymore."

It takes her a second to process the question. It isn't easy to sort out the way he jumps at her touch with the softness of his barely beat later. Elektra's brows knit together in confusion. She thought the answer had been obvious when she let him back in. Maybe not now that she comes to think of it. Matthew never knew where she stood on anything either. She always said the opposite of what she really wanted with him.

Elektra can't bear to repeat that mistake again with Frank. "I want you to stay." It comes out a little stilted. It feels like weakness to admit as much when the universe could take him away as it did her father. She breaks eye contact because she doesn't want to think about that and end up following her instinct to run. "Frank... there will come a time when I cannot control what will happen to me. I try to prepare for everything, but there are things even I cannot foresee. When that time comes... wouldn't you want me to come back as soon as possible? Or would you want me to stay away for leaving to begin with?" Because she knows where she stands. Her anger and resentment paled in comparison to that desire to have him back.

His hand skates around to the back of her head and he leans in, pressing a dry kiss to the rise of her cheek before slotting his face in next to hers. He's sure he can't smell great, but he can fix that in a minute. Right now he needs this closeness - and to hear those words. "What if... we both just stick together from now on?" He knows it's a naive suggestion, but right now he wants nothing more than to be glued to Elektra's hip for the foreseeable future.

He smells terrible, but she's adjusting. Honestly he is a lot more likely to bathe sometime this month than Logan is. Elektra spends a fair amount of time with him while he's alive.

She allows herself to rest against him. Her weight is nothing to Frank, after all. She wraps on arm around him as she thinks it over. A lifetime ago, a teenage Elektra heard a similar question. Her answer still works even now. "That would be nice." Even then she knew it was naive. They couldn't hide in Matt's dorm room as teens. As a woman, she knows it's really no different. Their enemies will do something to separate them. She'd like to try at least for a little while.

Frank hides a smile against her skin, letting her hold him and just trying to live in the present for once in his stupid life.

"I should probably shower then." To spare her his filth, though the prospect of showing her his new scars comes up in his mind again - stopping him from suggesting she join him. He's not used to these things affecting anyone but himself, he's sure she could understand this just as she does his many other flaws. A fingertip brushes idly over a scar on her shoulder as he contemplates warning her beforehand, he's honestly not sure if it makes a difference either way.

"It would help." Elektra agrees with a laugh too soft for most people to pick up on. It does occur to her that it is strange he isn't inviting her. He's been around her long enough now to know overbathing is never an issue for her. If it wouldn't ruin her skin, she'd probably take three baths and a shower a day. Water is one of the few things capable of relaxing her. She debates the merits of actually confronting him on this since it is so small an issue. It doesn't take her long to realize that if she's thinking about it, she may as well come out and say something. Elektra suspects she hates guesswork almost as much as he does when it comes to them.

"May I join you?"

The question takes him aback though it shouldn't surprise him. It wouldn't, if he weren't already trapped in his own thoughts.

"Uh..." His brow furrows and he pulls back from her with a sigh, moving to pull unzip his sweater and pull off his shirt instead of tripping over his words. There's no real way to explain the deep scars now mottling his chest in the distinct shape of his usual skull insignia. For some reason, he feels ashamed of his body's new condition though it hadn't bothered him until this exact moment. He doesn't think she'll reject him based on how he looks - he's already ugly in many ways - it just seems like something she'd frown on or blame him for allowing to happen. Frank drops his clothing carelessly and rolls his shoulders back so she can get a good look.

Her hands fall to her side as she waits. Elektra knows it is going to be bad. While her face is usually a serene mask of perfect indifference when she knows bad news is coming or she leaves one of these houses, Elektra can't hide her unease now. To both their credits it is warranted once he shows her what the damage is.

Elektra steps forward so she can trace the shape carefully with her fingers. She isn't trying to sound deep when she says bodies don't lie. The new scars tell her more than he ever could about what happened during his absence. She hovers over his chest as she studies where exactly the blade went in.

All she sees is self-indulgence, arrogance, and frankly shoddy work towards the bottom half of the skull. Whoever did this was no artist. She can't help thinking she'd have done better if she were sadistic freak. Once the clinical assessment is done, Elektra only feels a burning anger. Who were they to put their hands on what's hers? She knows it's wrong as soon as the thought forms. It's ugly and possessive. She will not be like the men who have hurt her over and over again because they felt entitled to her in some way. It doesn't change how she feels at all. Seeing someone carve into him for their satisfaction deeply bothers her.

(Maybe because she knows exactly how it feels.)

Elektra draws away angrily. Her hands form into fists at her side as she meets his eyes bitterly. "I will not insult you by fighting your battles without being asked to. If they're still alive and I encounter them by chance, I will be taking one of their hands for this. I expect you not to interfere with that." That's all she has to say on it seemingly as she turns on her heel to leave without any thought to where to go or what to do. Her feelings on what happened to him should not be his burden to bear. She rather take it somewhere else.

Frank watches the progression of emotion displayed on her face. She's usually not so easily read, but he can tell this has affected her deeply. If only he knew how she was hurting, maybe he could fix it. Just the prospect of either of them fixing anything is laughable though. He flinches but holds her eye contact, his mouth going dry as he tries to piece together a response. All he can manage is a stilted nod of agreement like he gives a fuck what she does to Zemo on his behalf or otherwise. The guy is pestilence embodied.

Letting her have her space seems like the right move at this point if only because he's already half undressed and doing anything else seems silly now. He picks up his shirts and watches her retreat down the hall, but he has to go the same way so he just awkwardly follows behind her with his clothing clenched in his meat fists.

"I think SHIELD's about the fight that battle, but knowing them there'll be plenty left of him for you." He sounds unconcerned about that, but there's a note of hesitation in his voice reserved just for Elektra's wellbeing. He swallows as he ducks into the bathroom, but consciously leaves the door open so she can make her own choice. He takes off everything on his lower half without ceremony and drops everything in a heap before disappearing into the shower that he turns as hot as it'll go.

She thinks the only thing that makes her feel more foolish than playing hero is being angry with nothing to direct it at. Elektra could leave and find a fight. There's always some drunk who takes things too far who likely deserves to be beaten to a pulp. That would mean leaving him. She's not ready for that.

She could trash their home. Elektra thinks on one of her off days that is precisely what she'd do. This isn't one of them. Elektra is all too aware of how pointless that would be. That just leaves going to him. It doesn't make her feel any brighter but neither does her current state of stomping around the house.

She stomps back in his direction, discarding clothing unceremoniously along the way which is telling in itself. She's usually serial killer neat unless she's half-dead. That will be a concern when she's in a better state of mind. Right now? Elektra takes the invitation for what it is, strolling in naked, only having enough sense to shut the door behind her to seal the heat in. She pulls back the curtain without warning to let herself in.

For all her good intentions, Elektra ends up directing her anger and frustration his way in the end. The first thing she does is grab onto his arms to force him closer to her, gaze heated as she speaks. "Don't let it happen again." She lets the words hang for only a moment before her right hand shoots up behind his head to force his lips against hers. As far as coping strategies go, she's had worse.

He expects her to come in, just maybe not as quickly as she does. The anger too isn't out of place though his own energy is nearly somber in comparison. His hand was resting against the tile, but then she's grabbing him and he falls against her like a ragdoll, anticipating a blow that never comes. Instead is the bite of her lips cushioning the clack of their teeth and a surprised noise catches between them even as he struggles to kiss her back. The hand she released trails down her body, as soft as she was rough in palming her waist. Frank's eyes immediately flutter closed, returning her passion until he physically can't breathe anymore, and only then does he pull back even a fraction of an inch to draw oxygen into his burning lungs.

"Yes, ma'am," he pledges, heart picking up speed as his body reveals its burgeoning interest in her already. It's not like he intended to have it happen the first time, though he really didn't do much to stop it either. He could still blame Matt and Nick for like, 90% of that whole sitch without breaking a sweat. And yet he's trying to put himself in her position, how would he have felt if that happened to her? Devastated. Frank holds her closer and kisses her again, a thorough but delicate move she's welcome to turn violent again if that's what will help. They're both still navigating how to be anything close to resembling people, and somehow only someone as broken as himself could make him want to mend and be better. There's something poetic in that.

She isn't doing much thinking. The only thought driving her is to take as much as she can get and still find a way for more. A more rational thought pushes through the chaos to remind her that very few humans can go without oxygen as long as she can. She stops herself from going in for more and takes the moment to breathe with him.

It's not nearly ragged, highlighting for a fraction of a second that he is just a little more human than her. It's short-lived since something cracks in her chest at his pledge, eyes softening as she looks up at him. The part of her that is human doesn't want to see him suffer needlessly. Foolishly, she thinks, Elektra believes him.

When they come together again, it's more careful on her part. Elektra's eyes flutter shut, letting the hand on the back of his head trail down to his shoulder. She matches his pace this time, exploring his mouth carefully with her tongue as she lets herself be present in the moment. It makes her heart race for a different reason. What they're doing is more terrifying than facing down the Beast or HYDRA. It feels right just like her father once told her it would. She embraces the fear rather than run from it.

Her gentling has his heart picking up speed in his chest too, pressing his face against hers as they kiss, taking time with each other. Frank crowds her against the tile, one massive hand coming up to rest on her jaw. There's not much deep thought happening for him either now and it couldn't feel more freeing. No more terror plots or prison coups to plan. Just being exactly where he wants to be doing exactly what he wants to be. Those moments have been ridiculously far and in between for him in his life, yet the more time he spends with Elektra the more of these moments he manages to have by her side.

"I missed you, too," he finally admits, murmured against her lips as he pulls back just enough to inflict the full brunt of his wet gaze on her under the spray.

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