castle | 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑡𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑏𝑜𝑥.

Is that you dispensing your expert wisdom again? I'm gonna have to start writing all of these down. "1. Don't pick up random shit and take it home. 2. Don't eat expired shit."

[ besides, only one of them had a terrible experience with all that chocolate around valentine's day and it wasn't her. so, really, who's the one that attracts awful now? ]

Hell, I'll take it off your hands. I bet I could really open her up out there by the reservoir. Wind in the hair, stereo blasting. Just like every '80s music video ever made.

Might wanna start carving the notes on your walls. Make sure you don't forget.

[ to be entirely fair, it was she who shoved some of those chocolates in his face (should he have learned his lesson from the first incident? yes, but that's besides the point). ]

Sure, if anybody's in need of a new car, it's the girl with a bike, a truck, and a itch that needs to be scratched for that routine dose of danger. Especially if you're gonna look good while doing it, hair flapping in the wind and all.

[ is he saying she looks good? of course not. ]

Make one of those tear-off calendars, but instead of a fun trivia fact it's Frank Castle's Advice of the Day.

[ and she uses it now, his name, because he's the only one who can hear it on the phone, otherwise she's made a lot of effort not to slip up in public. ]

Who said I've got an itch? No itching here, nothing that needs scratching. [ except for the worst one and we won't talk about that because knowing her luck, she'd start having the dreams again. ] At least take her around the block once or twice. What, are you afraid you're gonna like it too much?

How long's it been? Three months? Think I've spared enough wisdom during that time to pack into 365 days.

[ and he won't say how he likes to hear it, his own name in her voice, something that doesn't feel false like the life he's stitched for himself. ]

Yeah, you know me. Get attached way too easily. [ it's meant to play off as sarcasm, but — taking into account the kids, the diner, and the lady on the other side of the line, there's more evidence of that fact than not. ] Y'know, if you really want me to take you for a ride, you can just ask.

[ ahahaha. ]

Oh, God, basically.

[ don't remind her, frank, she doesn't want to think about how much time she's probably already wasted in this place. ]

Mmm. That's you. All about those connections. [ the irony isn't lost on her, but she knows he'd tried to distance himself at first, so... points for effort? ] Where would the fun be in that, Harry? No, I was just going to wear you down slowly and over time until you take me out of sheer annoyance.

[ take her. what? ]

[ let's not talk about how much time she's already wasted on him. or is it the other way around, considering all the phone calls she's initiated just to get him tending to her leaks and needs. ]

Wait, you're just starting fresh now? Thought you'd been working on wearing me down for months. [ is that what's been happening? ] Guess all the prior annoyance has been on pure accident.

[ call it a worthy investment. and also the desire to not give herself a splinter every time she walks through her own front door. ~~too bad he doesn't tend to all her needs, wink.~~ ]

This would just be car-related. Any and all other annoyances are totally coincidental. [ or so she says. ] Besides, think of how boring this town would be without me.

[ to be entirely fair, it's because of her calls that's probably somehow kept his business afloat at all. ~~as if the options to tending alternate needs isn't there; they're just purposely avoiding checking those boxes.~~ ]

Remind me to start filtering out the annoyances by category. Didn't realize you were so organized. [ except they both know she isn't organized at all, let's not kid ourselves. ] But I don't know, think I'd be dealing with a lot more quiet. Can't say that's a terrible fantasy.

You’re not the only Jack of all trades over there, you know. [ between the home repairs and his new diner gig, he’s gotten himself pretty well-established in this town, maybe in spite of his earlier protestations about not staying put. ]

Quiet’s overrated. [ she scoffs lightly, shifting over to take a seat — well, really, collapse — on her couch with a small exhale of effort. ] And you should really rethink your definition of ‘fantasy’ if that’s your top option. [ you can do better than that, pete. ]

Had a teenager call me to fix her washing machine, telling me that I was literally it. You telling me I gotta start worrying about competition?

[ maybe it's why he's rejecting the car; once he accepts that, he's settled with a residence, two careers, a mode of transportation, and a kid (or two, or three) to look after, all adding up to really solidifying more of a possible permnance here. ]

Only reason you think that is cause you have no idea what quiet is. [ at least he's sure she doesn't, since he's never heard silence last more than a few seconds around her (he's definitely not counting the one they fell into when they dozed together on his bed). ] But alright, I'll bite. If I've got it so wrong, how about you tell me one of your so-called fantasies?

[ yeah, wynonna. tell him. ]

Not from me. [ unless he’s in the market for someone who can undo all his work just so he’s forced to follow after and put it right again. she’s better with a gun, not a hammer. ]

Spoken like someone who’s never seen where I work. [ honestly, that place never has a rush period and even when it’s supposedly peak hours, she’s usually left sitting around changing the taps for the billionth time. it’s slow work, but at least it’s work she knows she can handle.

oh, and that’s not an invitation either, although he does strike her as the kind of person who could benefit from drinking a beer and actually, you know, relaxing for once. (not counting the time they were all tangled up together in his bed, obviously.) ]

Well, it starts with that special delivery of golden fried deliciousness and it ends — [ she takes a breath, like she needs to steel herself for the remembering of it. ] — with me eating every... last... one.

I haven't seen where you work. [ not that he's hearing an invitation, nor is he seeking for one. he's not opposed to sitting and enjoying a beer (even if he denied every offer of one he received at chloe's party; granted, those offers were all from kids at least 15 years his junior), but relaxing hasn't been his priority here. another dangerous endeavor.

but regretfully, he laughs at her wistful description, a sound he doesn't have time to filter and results in a set of youthful eyes peering in his direction at the counter from their booth.

he resets himself, readjusting that more stern and steady expression with a clearing of his throat. ] Y'know, a delivery like that. Would require having some sort of car. Shame I don't have one of those.

Well... you should. [ and there it is, an actual invitation, though it sounds kind of like she’s just tossing it out there for the sake of the conversation and not necessarily out of a desire to see him come through that door. (maybe.)

and a faint smile happens at the sound of his laugh, because those moments are few and far in between and she always considers it something of a personal victory when she’s the cause, direct or not. she settles back against the sofa cushions, propping her feet up on the weathered coffee table. ]

A fast car, even. Because that’s the thing: the whole fantasy sort of hinges on whether they’re still all nice and hot by the time I dive into them.

I'd rather not distract you while you're working. [ because that's exactly the kind of thing they do. exhibit a: him on the phone now while he should be focusing on managing the counter.

but the kids are placing their bucks on the table, a quick wave in his direction as they step out the front door, to which he gives a returning nod, the diner left empty save for his own self and her on the line. ]

Yeah? Think it's that much of a tall order? Don't think I can keep it "nice and hot" for you?

[ ~~well, now that the kids are gone, time for adult talk.~~ ]

Yes, you'd be a huge distraction from me wiping down the bar for the billionth time. [ that's not her picking up on any hints that her late night call might not be entirely welcomed, for the record.

but she hears that chiming bell above the door, which either indicates someone's coming in or leaving, and since he doesn't move to end the call she figures it's probably the latter given that the conversation just... keeps going.

of course, there's a slightly longer pause on her end, during which she has to genuinely resist the urge to lean over and pinch herself, because didn't one of her dreams start almost exactly like this? the one where she ended up sweaty and tangled in her own bedsheets? ]

Well, you — you wouldn't be able to do that just walking. By the time you got here they'd be all soggy, and who likes limp fries, am I right?

Gotta work in that extra shine. [ he wouldn't entirely opposed to showing up sometime, not entirely, even if he's sure to feel out of place. it's not even the bar itself that's the problem, or her working there, but he never lets himself get that eased with a drink, not while his priority should be to remain alert; in this town, he feels like he should remain in that state constantly.

he also won't think about how eased he is now, even without a drink in hand, the diner now filled with silence save for the continued lull of her voice at his ear. ]

What, I never told you I run marathons? Got a few — belts and shit for that kind of thing. Broke all the records. [ do runners get belts? doesn't matter, cause there's a crack of a smirk on his lips that shift his tone to highlight the obvious lie. ]

Edited 2019-04-19 20:47 (UTC)

Oh, yes, the shine on top of all that natural distressing. Most people pay good money to fake that kind of thing. [ well, she might keel over then and there if he ever does decide to stop by, not simply because she almost can't picture him sitting at a bar like that but also because she knows how busy he is now, how many responsibilities he has that don't really permit so much leisure time.

she has to take the phone away from her ear for a second or two to shrug out of her jacket, but then cradles it against her shoulder soon after. ]

You're so full of it. [ even if he did have that longer, leaner body type (which he doesn't), she knows better. ] Don't tell me you wore those teeny-tiny shorts too.

[ as if his schedule has ever really affected how often he got around to seeing her, whether it was on purpose or not. most of his handiwork hours were spent at her place anyway. not that his reason for going to the bar would just be to see her, absolutely not.

but talk of washing counters has him suddenly swiping a towel to wipe down the grease stains on his own, phone tucked against his own ear. ]

You know I'd look damn cute in those shorts.

[ she's shifted to stretching out across the couch now, the size of it just long enough to accommodate her even if her feet bump up against the far arm. all this talk of fries has definitely made her hungry, but she's also not really of a mind to think about moving right now.

hence couch lounging. and continuing to talk to him. ]

Those gams? [ she wolf-whistles, and then laughs. ] I'm sorry, this is the part where I tell you you've got a great personality too.

[ perhaps it's because the diner is empty now, but when he laughs this time, a subconscious sound that follows hers, it rises a bit more freely without the original attempt to disguise it. ]

What, you saying I'm not a swell guy? Soft and sweet like a kitten?

[ the softest. ]

[ she's laughing at herself by this point, the ridiculousness of it, but that doesn't seem to be enough to stop her when she's on a roll. ]

Well, I didn't want you to be under the impression that we're only friends on account of that hot bod.

You mean that shouldn't be the impression I'm getting?

[ his tone still has that casual playfulness to it, although he doesn't take into account where exactly their conversation has steered, or what apparently the new subject has become. ]

I've just heard it's important to value people for more than their looks.

[ and that's the danger in it, how easy it is for them to redirect the conversation into those topics that couldn't be considered entirely casual — or maybe it's how she does it, and his apparent willingness to follow. ]

So you value me for my personality?

[ he's joking, but also it is a curiosity considering how sour and grim that personality had been when they first met, a stubborn grump who merely wanted to get out and not waste his time on casual acquaintances.

funny from a guy who's now spending his night on this phone call without any immediate intention on cutting it short. ]

Still waters, my friend. Still waters.

[ because she likes to think she's gotten to know him a fair amount since that first night when he wanted to be anywhere but trapped in their conversation, necessity of regaining their sight the factor that had prompted him to stay. whether it was the thing that had kept him, in the end, is another question altogether.

and even if what some of what they'd said that afternoon in his bed had been tainted by the pollen, maybe part of that sentiment had been sincere. ]

Well, that and the fact that you didn't let me drown in my own kitchen. Bonus points there.

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;

audio;