Punisher Keep
Roleplaying Log: Punisher Keep
IC Details

Babs sets up Frank in a new home that just so happens to be part of Falcone's warehouse acquisitions in Jersey City.

Other Characters Referenced: Dinah Lance, Billy Russo
IC Date: June 05, 2019
IC Location: Punisher Keep, Jersey City
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 08 Jun 2019 22:37
Rating & Warnings: PG-13
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits: None
Associated Plots

The motorcycle streaks down the mostly abandoned stretch of docks. The moonlight reflects off the smooth curve of her visor, but loses its light against the matte black surface. She takes a corner that leads toward some smaller warehouses that overlook the Hudson; in the distance, the glow of the Statue of Liberty can just be seen, her stoic and immovable silhouette seen against the New York skyline. This cluster of buildings are missing signage, and several have just plastic pulled over their broken windows. When the bike finally stops, it's outside the least dilapidated of the buildings, and the closest to the water.

Barbara kicks out the stand as she leans the bike over just a bit, it tucked into shadow. She ducks her head as she rolls out of her helmet, and her red hair spills out in a loose braid that drapes down between her shoulder blades. She takes a breath as she ruffles out her bangs, and she sets the helmet in her lap, looking out at the warehouses. A pair of earbuds are tucked in her ears, the cord attached to something in her motocross jacket pocket. She starts to look for Frank, having texted him the location of where to meet her and about what time to meet her. So, she waits while she stays astride her bike.

Frank's been here for an hour, sprawled out on top of a building, watching the area through a spotting scope with a large-caliber rifle alongside him. The arrival of the Gotham vigilante causes him to pack up his gear, sliding his way down the fire escape with the rifle in a slung duffel. He glances both directions and then trots across the road toward Barbara. "Hey Red." Shifting the duffel, he looks to her, reaching out to clap on the shoulder, squeezing lightly as he turns his attention up to the building, "That looks like a real piece of shit." There's a grin behind the words, and he adds, "Nice cover for fixing up the inside."

The earbuds might suggest she isn't listening, but the moment Frank makes a single noise, she turns her head toward him with a little twitch of a smile toward him. The redhead leans back on the saddle of her bike, dropping her hands to rest lightly on the tops of her thighs. Her eyes take him in, as if tracking his frame for bruises or new wounds. When he touches her with that heavy squeeze to her shoulder, she intakes a breath that is accompanied by a little, uncertain smile. "Yeah." She clears her throat and looks at the chosen site. "You want to take a look at the insides?"

The awkwardness from Barbara seems to transfer up Frank's arm, and he shifts slightly, giving her shoulder another squeeze and then dropping his hand away. He moves easily, no signs of new damage, "Quiet, too. There are a couple of homeless people living around back, but nobody inside that I could see." He nods, glancing up and down the street, then nods toward the warehouse, "Except us. You got a code from the agent or something?" There's a pause, and he looks aside to Babs, "Or are we gonna stay out here to talk through our feelings after late-night texts? We're good, Red."

"Quiet, too," Barbara agrees quietly. Then she rocks back slightly on her heels, hands sliding into the back pockets of her leather motocross pants. "I've been inside already… but, don't worry… no curtains." The redhead offers him a little smile before she steps forward, aiming to slip past him toward the side door that's accessed up a couple cement steps. His words and glance stalls her, and she digs her hands a little deeper while also shrugging up her shoulders. There's a passing look across the empty lot that belongs to the warehouse, and then she's looking back up at him. "I didn't think we weren't good, Frank." She settles into a little smile. "So, we're good." Which means they aren't good, but neither are ready to talk about it. She turns, gesturing him to follow her as she starts up that first step.

"I see how it is," Frank manages a dry chuckle, "Scouting out ahead of me." He considers that for a moment, then nods, "Well, makes sense. Even when you aren't trying to surprise me with curtains." He can keep the joke going easily enough. He can also follow easily enough, moving alongside her to the door — and taking a long step forward just as they get there so that he can push the door open for her. "I like Lady Liberty out there. But really, Jersey? I mean, I get that real estate prices are lower here, and I ain't exactly flush, but Jersey?" His grin quirks up at one corner, and he glances across to her again, waiting for the reaction from the Gotham girl.

"There's plenty of surprises inside." Barbara's words are warm, gentle, and the awkwardness has passed. She glances out toward the Hudson at the sight of Lady Liberty, and then she smiles. "I like her, too." Though the jab at New Jersey has her stopping on the first step up to the door, and she glares down at him from new vantage. "Jersey has cheaper real estate, less likely that NYPD will be sniffing around, and you're on this side of Hudson which means you can more easily get over to Gotham." Those words spill out faster than intended, so she's looking abruptly awkward. "Or-or I can get here faster, if you need me." Then she's turning away from him as she opens the faceplate on the keypad. She taps in a code, and the door makes a little click that indicates it is unlocked. She pushes open the door and gestures him inside.

Frank shakes his head a little at her gentle promise, "Of course there are." He looks up to her on the top step, shaking his head as he's stymied from opening the door for her by the keypad. "You mean in case demons infest the city and shut down the bridges again?" The door clicks, and he steps forward — and she's got the door ahead of him again, and he shakes his head in amusement. "Come on, Red, I made it down even then. Gonna be harder to get rid of me than that." Harder than literal demons, apparently. "I don't have the whole arsenal anymore, but I'm sure I can find things to fill the warehouse with. Resupply and logistics, Red. Words to live by." He pauses, then gives a little shrug, "And trust your friends. So whatcha got for me?"

"I can help you with the resupply — and legally." Barbara gives him a look. "Let me help with that. Okay?" She presses her lips together, and she ducks her chin slightly before she turns away from him so she can lead the way.

They step inside, and it is dark until Barbara steps in deep enough to pull the industrial switch. The interior of the warehouse gets washed in dim light that doesn't quite reach the corners. The warehouse must have been smaller storage because it isn't very big and the back loading door can only really fit a large van instead of a full semi-truck container. There's plenty of space, and even a sense that this building housed both storage containers and people as the far side of the warehouse is partitioned into rooms; there's even the hints of what might have been a shared kitchen area. There appears to be some furniture added to the space — most of it secondhand and not at all modern or sleek. Most of the center of the space is empty with most effort placed into the far side of the room. There's heavy metal tables in front of wire racks that could be used to house guns and other parts of Frank's arsenal. There's a twin-sized bed that is just a little more than a dorm-issued bed dressed in plain off-white sheets, a simple nightstand with a reading light, and a table with four chairs and a box of unwrapped dishes, heavy duty cups and mugs, and some starter cooking utensils. In the kitchen, there's plenty of work to be had, but there's a little countertop-sized refrigerator and a coffee machine; sitting on the gas range are two cast iron skillets.

For her part, Barbara just stays back and lets him be the first to venture into the space.

"I figured I'd just take guns from shitbirds who shouldn't have 'em. Can't track illegal weapons, after all. Plus, then you don't get wrapped up with anything that goes wrong." Frank stops as the lights come on, adjusting the rifle-filled duffel over his shoulder and looking around. His eyebrows rise sharply as he takes things in, "Shit, Red." There's wonder and appreciation in the words. "This was relaxing?" A chuckle breaks to his lips, and he shakes his head, stepping deeper into the warehouse. He glances over his shoulder to Barbara as he crosses the empty space, slinging his bag onto one of the metal tables with a muted clatter. He makes sure that the rifle is secure, and then heads straight for the kitchen. Clearly, the 'bedroom' can wait, "Ton of space here, Red. You think I'm gonna get a team together or something? It's awesome, by the way." His blunt fingers touch the gas range, and he looks back to her, "Thanks, Babs."

"Okay, okay… fair. Then let me at least help you get some stuff that can't be tracked. I have access to some contacts." Barbara traces her steps after him until she's in the bedroom side of the living space. She glances at it briefly before she turns her head to watch him heading into the kitchen. She smiles a bit. "Um, I know that you did cooking for Luke. M-maybe you are still there. I think you maybe mentioned that." She tucks her hands into the pockets of her motocross jacket. She glances at the open space briefly. "I had… some ideas for that space. I have some security gear that I'd like to set up — cameras, ways for you to monitor those, and security system that would let you know if someone is coming into the Keep or if someone breaks into it while you're out." She hesitates. "If… if that's okay with you, Frank." A little smile has eased into place at his thanks, and she nods slightly. "You needed a place."

"You want to find me a shipment of illegal guns to steal?" Frank chuckles and shakes his head, "I'm not gonna turn you down." He shifts the cast-iron skillets around on the range, then pats the coffee maker, digging around to try and find coffee to start a batch, "Yeah, I'm back working there again. I'll make the commute work." He's still not sleeping a whole lot, so he has time to make the trip. "You want to wire up my place, Red?" He glances around, "I mean, it's not bean can filled with rocks on a string, but if I'm gonna be comin' back to the same place all the time, it'd probably be a good idea to have some security, yeah." Pausing, he frowns over at her, concern touching his heavy features, "I'm startin' to think you didn't just find the place. You bought it too, didn't you?" His lips purse together, but he doesn't protest, "That Stark gig's paying real good, isn't it? 'Cause you were worrying about restocking your gear before that. You're not cuttin' corners on your own gear for this, are you, Babs?"

"I didn't say that," Barbara says defensively at the idea of getting all caught-up in finding Frank something to steal. "I said I could get you some non-trackable gear. You're going to need to steal guns all by yourself." Though, she will probably sigh and let him know when Falcone might be moving some goods that he should be relieved of. Then she's stepping in closer, hands still in her pockets. She's not sure if she should sit, or get ready to give Frank time to settle in. That awkward limbo is hard to miss, and she's only drawn a bit closer into the space when he asks her about how she landed this place. She frets slightly at her lip, glancing around. "Um. In a way. Do you remember when Falcone was buying up all this property in New York and Jersey City? This is one of his properties." Then she offers him a small smile. "Even more of a reason to wire you up with security. This property is just part of the parcel he bought up, but… I thought that maybe you could help me decide that he's best staying in Gotham instead of branching out."

Frank offers Babs that boyish grin at her quick response, but doesn't speak to it directly. "Hey, Red, you don't have to drift. Take a load off. I'll have to go out and get some coffee and kibble and food, but that's not a big deal." And then she explains just how she got the property, and his eyebrows go up, he pauses a moment, and then he laughs, an honest-to-god laugh that has him shaking his head and gravelling out in amused amazement, "You got me givin' Carmine Falcone the middle finger just by livin' here, Red?" Ignoring the awkwardness, he steps over to wrap an arm around her shoulders in a fraternal sort of appreciative gesture, jostling her shoulder easily, "Damn, that's stone fuckin' cold." And then he realizes that he's got his arm around Barbara's shoulder and looses it, letting his hand slip off her back, then come back for a slightly-awkward shoulder-pat, "So you think puttin' me here's like a watchtower, keep Falcone from movin' any further north. Really is Punisher Keep, ain't it?"

When Frank invites her to stick around, the redhead unzips her motocross jacket and shrugs out of it to reveal a thin white t-shirt layered over a darker teal tank top. She folds the jacket together and tosses it on one of the worktables before she steps to one of those thrift store chairs. She is just on her way to sitting before she's caught up in that hug that has her pressing in to Frank's side, and she curls her arm around his back to return the warm, but still somewhat awkward hug. The loosening, the falling away, has her looking down with a slight nudge of her foot. Then, she sits down with a relaxing breath, and starts to unzip her boots to reveal those library socks that Frank got her for Christmas; the boots are tucked under the table. "That, and perhaps you being here will smoke out some of Falcone's goons that are still hanging around New York. That's why I want to get the security system in."

Frank turns back to the metal table, unzipping the duffel and pulling out the rifle and spotting scope. They're checked over, then set against the back of the surface, by the wire racks. "I see. I bait." He doesn't seem particularly put out by this idea, checking the pistol holstered at the small of his back and tucking it away again. "Guess turnabout is fair play." Since he did it to her at the diner. His eyes catch on her socks, and he cracks a smile, "Hey, check you out." And Frank Castle proves again that he was a dad. "So yeah, a security system sounds like a good idea. I'll rig something small and easy up for now. You got bigger ideas, I'm wide open to 'em." He probably could comment on the fact that him being here is liable to smoke some of Falcone's goons, rather than smoke them out, but… "Outpost in enemy territory should definitely have good security. Whatcha got in mind, Red?"

Barbara folds her arms in front of her, resting some of her weight into her forearms. Her lips twitch up into a little smile, and she tips her head to one side. "Turnabout is always fair play, Castle." When he notices her socks, her toes curl a bit with an almost sheepish look — until she realizes that Frank Castle just made a dad joke. She blinks in surprise. "Frank — you didn't. You did." Then she shakes her head, and adds helpfully, They have good padding in the soles," as if she's dismissing the fact that she wears them because they are from Frank. She plants one foot over the other, rubbing at the top of her foot with the sole of the other. "So, I have some things from the Belfry that I can adapt here… up the security at the door, put in cameras at the entry points, and set up proximity triggers." Now she gives him a serious look. "But you'd have to accept having a vOS phone, and stop using that outdated piece of crap you love so much." She then takes in a little breath, gauging Frank carefully when she says, "Hooking up some version of ORACLE would be good, but — but I don't think you would tolerate ALTHENE."

Frank crosses his arms over his chest at her challenge, "Yeah, and?" Of course he made a dad joke. "You can always trust a serviceperson — " he pauses thoughtfully for a moment, " — or a vigilante, I guess, to find good socks." At the judging of his phone, he frowns, pulling out the flip-phone, "What? I'm pretty sure this thing could take a 9mm and not even shrug. Those fancy new phones, you sneeze on 'em wrong and the screen cracks." Because of course he cares about survivability more than about ease of use. He hefts the phone, "And what, you didn't think you should have your shiny new system old fogey tested?" But then his eyes narrow slightly, "Why, what's wrong with ALTHENE? Does she talk back? Backseat cook? Have issues with firearms?"

"No judgement," Barbara says, holding up both hands. Then she smiles slightly at Frank's obvious confirmation that he is, indeed, a vigilante. She says nothing of it despite that smile, and then she moves on to squinting at his phone. "Look, Frank… I can give you a really sturdy phone that was made after 1998. I'll even make it incredibly easy to operate, and I won't even make you use SnapChat." Then she smiles a bit more at his jab at his age, before she shakes her head. "I mean, it would be a good test, because if Frank Castle can use the system, anyone can." Her dimples breakthrough briefly before she shakes her head. "No. She does make some interesting observations sometimes, and has learned how to give unwanted advice, but she's solid. I can give you access to her mainframe, or I can design one for you."

"Hey, I know enough to know that SnapChat's just for sex." Look, Frank's daughter was getting to the age where that was a concern. "And this thing was made in 2005," which is not much better at all, "and I can handle a damned computer." He snorts, shaking his head, then moves over to the 'living room,' area, folding slowly down into one of the chairs, "Pretty sure Rogers has it worse than me." There's a pause, and he squints over to her, "You do know I grew up during the Internet era, right?" Mostly. "I shot things with little green dots on Oregon Trail in school." The description of the AI draws a shake of his head, "You can… 'give me access to her mainframe?'" He immediately contradicts his earlier claim by narrowing his eyes at her again, "What am I gonna do there? I can't code a damned AI." But he's chuckling, shaking his head, "Naw. I don't think I need someone living in the building, chattering at me, but if you think it'll help control the security system… but you really don't have to, what, design a brand new AI for me?"

"I don't know, Frank — you might need to get laid — " The words stall out as a bit of a blush colors high at her cheeks, and she quickly moves on. "I know you grew up in the internet era," she says quietly, almost sheepishly. "I just know you scoff a lot at computers, and technology." Then he gets confused by the mainframe, and she shakes her head. "Think of it like me giving ALTHENE a place to come and visit you in the computer infrastructure. She can exist in the Belfry and here just fine." Now she settles her arms back in front of her with Frank seated at the table. "It wouldn't take much work. I already have the basis. What — sort of personality would you like? Or not like." There's a level of uncertainty that falls around her now, and she shuffles a bit on her chair. "Or I can keep it very simplistic and drone-like."

"And Snapchat ain't gonna get me there." That might be agreement, or joking. Either way, Frank leans forward on his chair, resting forearms on his thighs and looking over to Babs as she explains AI coding. "Huh. I don't know. I mean, I just need something that tells me what I need to know, right? Or is this like training a new young officer? They don't have any clue what sort of shit you actually need to know and you've got to teach 'em good habits and break 'em of the bad ones?" That doesn't sound like someone who was a Marine Lieutenant, that sounds much more like a veteran Sergeant. "I guess the good news is, this Butter-bar wouldn't get promoted or shuffled off right after you had 'em trained." Shaking his head in amusement, he adds in, "Computers and tech have their places. I get that. I'm just… I don't know. People put too much faith in that, instead of the people around 'em."

"Well, don't ask me how to actually get there — maybe ask Dinah." It's a neat deflection. Then the redhead starts to smile when Frank does what he does — making connections back to his own schema. Barbara starts to nod. "Yes, something like that… I can give you a clean slate AI and you can mold it to fit what you need just like you would a new recruit. Except it will already be mostly ready for shaping instead of you having to actually break it down to build it back up." Then she sweeps up to her feet, shuffling on the smooth and washed concrete with those soft socks. She crosses just a few steps to him, and she sets her hand gently on his shoulder just where it connects to his neck. "That… is just what Frank Castle would say." Her smile is soft. "I'm always going to have faith in you, Frank." She starts to loosen her hair out of its braid, tugging it out into soft waves only to twist it back up into a no-nonsense bun — almost librarian in its construction. She steps out into the wider space, sliding her hands down into her back pockets. "I'll probably set up a station out here because I can use the ceiling to wire everything up. I'll keep it simple," she promises him. "Just give me access for a few days." She turns back toward him now, standing there with her hands in her pockets.

Frank grins as she lays out her plans for the AI, and he nods, "That sounds pretty good. Easier than boot camp." The hand on his shoulder and her reassuring words draw a slightly-crooked grin to match her softer smile, "Thanks, Red. That's the kind of shit that makes things possible." He watches her toy with her hair, then shakes his head, "So it looks like I gotta go shopping now. Kit the place out." Looking down to where her khaki-colored socks rest, he chuckles, "Yeah, I see how it is, take up all the room." He chuckles, then adds, "Leave me room to park a van. I'm gonna go car shopping, I think." Which probably doesn't mean going to one of the big branded automobile lots. "You can have access as long as you want. You build the system, I'm pretty sure you'll be able to get in any time you want anyhow. But I guess that makes asking for permission a bigger deal, when you don't need it." There's a pause, and then he adds, "And I know how to get there, Red." Frank grunts amused sound, "But blondes aren't really my thing."

"I'll get something set up," Babs promises him again, "and it won't take up too much space." Then she ducks her head, glancing around the space a bit as her mind builds how it will all look with a van and computer station and perhaps a real fridge and some cooking ware. It makes her feel a bit better knowing Frank is somewhere mostly safe; she will rest better. Then she turns slightly toward him with a slight shadow in her silhouette. She smiles softly at first when he mentions that she can have access as long as she wants — and that she will know how to get in. "Consider it the buddy system… always good to have someone else who can bypass security if something goes wrong. I'm your IT gal." She's looking away when he mentions knowing the road he can take to get laid, and the mention of blondes has her choking out a soft sound that is almost a laugh. She looks back to him. "Yeah, don't." She tries to make it sound casual, but there's a bit of deeper, almost tighter emotion there.

"You and Luke are my first calls," Frank promises, then considers, "Isn't that how vOS works anyhow? Put people in to get emergency notices?" He chuckles at her claiming to by his IT gal, "You mean tryin' to drag my ass kickin' and screamin' into the 21st century?" Her response to his joke causes him to chuckle, shaking his head in clear amusement, "You don't think I should try to hit on Dinah?" Lifting his brows, he shrugs, "I don't know, isn't a violent first impression a good thing? I mean, I almost got shot in the gut when I met her." He waves the suggestion off, "I'm not gonna hit on Dinah. But she could do with a date or two. I mean, unless she's had some while I was gone."

"Something like that," Red says dryly at his attempt to understand vOS. "Don't worry. I'll walk you through it." Then she smiles at his amusement, finding the ease of it welcoming compared to the way she first met him. Change and transformation is good, and it warms Barbara — even though she looks awkward when he goes on further about Dinah. "I mean, you could if you really wanted to… I could see you two being a good match." There's something awkward in her words, and they lack real conviction. "She probably had a better first impression than I did." The self-deprecation is met with another downward cast of her eyes. Rather than lingering in this conversation that makes her awkward and extremely self-conscious, she lets that little flutter of fight or flight turn to flight. "While you're now on the right side of the Hudson, it's a bit of a drive to get back home." Walking back toward the table, Barbara gathers up her boots to slip them back on, kicking up one foot at a time to get the zipper to her knee. Then she's grabbing her jacket. "I'll be back tomorrow or the next day with some gear to setup. Won't take me long." Which may suggest that Babs had already been prepping a system for Frank — probably while she was at Stark's. "Maybe this weekend we can head out on that road trip? If-if you're still interested. I have some highways marked in Pennsylvania that we can venture on."

"Right, better than you sneaking up to me in the rain and me thinking you were Batman?" Frank remembers. Of course Frank remembers. "I don't know. Between that and you trying to take my head off with that explosive batarang…" He lets the commentary on Dinah slip past. Stepping up to give Babs's shoulder a squeeze, he continues on to the kitchen, poking around the bare cabinets — and looking over to catch her planting long legs up on the table to pull her boots on. He holds in his crouch for a moment, his brows lifting up, "I should get Max moved in. And my stuff." What little he still has after his nation-wide road trip of destruction and investigation. "Damn, Red. You're always prepared, aren't you? And yeah, you get some coverage, that'll work. I'll get a couple days off from Luke's. Haven't hooked back up with Bill yet, but I need to. Gotta figure out what the hell's going on with those mercs. Better plan on getting off the highways too. Gotta get onto the back roads, that's where the beauty is."

"Yeah, better." Those words are a bit dryer than she intended, but she does smile at him. Then she is chuckling a bit in her throat at the memory of the batarang. "Then you tied me to a pipe, after giving me a concussion." She doesn't catch him looking her way before she's settled back onto both feet and pulling on her jacket. "Always prepared." She holds up the boy scout salute. Then she stands there, hands back in her pockets, and she shifts slightly to one foot. "If you can get the time off… I'll meet you outside of Gotham? Say, Saturday morning, early? If you know some routes, I'll let you play navigator now and then, but I have some ideas, too." Then she nods, scuffing a boot slightly at the cement. "I can't stay gone long either… just a couple days, maybe three…" Because they both can't stop being who they are.

"Yeah. Someone tries to blow off your head but you don't want to shoot them, you ziptie them to a pipe. Or use duct tape." Frank shrugs, "It's just common sense." The shifting and the scuffing causes him to chuckle, "You got ideas, I can go along with that, Red. Just as long as we don't just go rest stop to rest stop on the highway." Now he's just flipping her shit. Loads of shit. "That's why I didn't suggest the California coast. Day out, maybe a day tooling around, day back. Easy." He looks around the space again, then steps away from the kitchen to enfold her in another hug, "Hey, thanks Babs. Really. I mean, I always say that, but this place looks great." And the threat of Falcone goons showing up isn't too bad either. Look, the scumbags come to you.

"I picked some two-lane highways, I promise." The redhead takes the flipped-shit easy — because she lives with Dinah Lance! Barbara is just about to turn to leave, but Frank crossing for that hugs stalls her. With only a second's worth of hesitation, she steps up to him to stand needlessly on the balls of her feet and embrace him tightly around the shoulders with her head tucked against his. She closes her eyes, just settling into the tight hug. She takes in his scent, refreshes the memory of the feel of his frame, and otherwise just reconnects with the man she knows as Frank Castle. A moment later, Barbara is tilting her head so she can murmur against her ear, "Shave the beard, okay? You're starting to look like a hipster again." Then, she presses a kiss to what of his cheek isn't covered in facial hair. "See you on Saturday… say 6 AM at that little diner? Am I stashing the bike somewhere?"

Frank starts to brush back after a long moment of the embrace, but her murmur stalls him, and he chuckles, reaching up with one hand to brush across his jaw, "Come on, Red. I'm keepin' it under control." But he shakes the protest off, "Yeah, it's almost summer anyhow. Damn thing gets hot as hell." His hands slide up to her shoulders, squeezing lightly, and then he steps back, grinning in the wake of the kiss on his cheek, "I wouldn't take away the fun of you takin' your bike on those curves. I'll bring one too. See you at six on Saturday, Red."

"Uh huh. You're right you haven't gone as wild." Then Barbara is stepping away from him, turning to head for the door. She glances back over her shoulder at the news that he'll bring a bike, too, and she shakes her head. "Impound lots only, Frank — or from scumbags. Agreed?" Then she's turning away to cross the long length of concrete to the door. "See you Saturday."

"Of course," is Frank's only response to the requested agreement. Of course he's not going to steal some hard-working person's bike — unless they're a hardworking criminal.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License