Middle of the Storm
Roleplaying Log: Middle of the Storm
IC Details

First they catch-up on the roof of a Big Belly Burger, and then Frank comes back to Barbara's place at dawn.

Other Characters Referenced: Jim Gordon, Domino, Ruby, Hawkgirl, Catwoman
IC Date: August 07, 2019
IC Location: Big Belly Burger, Park Row and Lance Family Home
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 14 Aug 2019 01:37
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 (langauge)
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

The storm rages on, flooding the night with sheets of wet. Down the street, the doors to the Thomas Wayne clinic are lit with welcoming light. No threats have arrived to finish off the beloved Commissioner, leaving Frank Castle in uninterrupted solitude on the roof of the Big Belly Burger in Crime Alley. The rain is heavy enough to keep the typical crowds from the burger joint, though a party of six have just stumbled their way into the restaurant with the loud blustering of drunks.

Her arrival is just a quiet noise of boots alighting on a puddle and the near silent shush of her grapple gun as it quickly retracts. She's in her street clothes with her raincoat holding back the rain. Her red hair is braided and tucked into the hood. If she's wounded, she's already gone through the process of masking it. She looks around, searching for where he's hidden away.

Frank is soaked. Luckily, he didn't take much damage from the Talons, but he's just flat soaked, his hair plastered down around his head and his vest feeling like it's gained several pounds worth of water despite his ostensibly-rain-resistant trenchcoat. It doesn't help that he's kneeling behind the retaining wall atop the Big Belly Burger, a high-caliber rifle resting beside him and his attention focused forward. His phone rests against the wall on his other side, wired to his belt in case he needs to move fast. So while Frank doesn't hear the faint noise of displaced water and replaced grappling line over the pounding rain, GAARD chimes up, "Good morning, Red." The words are quiet, and Frank's shoulders tense at the first sound, but then he hears the familiar name, and he looks over his shoulder, brows knotted with concern. His dark eyes flicker over her, looking for any sign of a limp or of her holding herself gingerly, and his lips press together for a moment, then he just nods, "He'll be fine, Red."

The chime from GAARD relaxes her own shoulders, but it's the glance from Frank that seems to melt away any lingering tension and worry. She steps forward, crossing the wet rooftop toward him. She's in wet jeans and rain boots, her coat long enough to her knees. She stops within a few feet of the retaining wall, knowing that much closer will make her easier to spot from the street. She stands there, hands in her pockets. His reassuring words causes her chin to sharply nod. "I know." She lets out a slow exhale through her nose. "Thank you, Frank. I would have been there." But she was taking care of her own Talon.

"You had shit to do." Frank looks back forward, scanning the area and then slipping back from the wall, bringing his rifle and his phone with him. The phone is tucked away, and the rifle cradled under the crook of his arm so that he can step over and wrap his other arm around Barbara's shoulders and give her a light, somewhat squishy, hug. "There were like six of us there. Two targets too close together. Made it awkward for the Talons." He pauses a moment, then asks, "How'd yours go? Anything I need to worry about?"

"I had shit to do," Babs repeats into his wet shoulder as she steps closer into the hug. Her arm tightens around his back, pressing her forehead into his neck despite the rain and the slick. She looks up at him when he gives the rundown — quick and dirty — and she nods slowly. "She was… beyond anything I have fought before. Fast, acrobatic. She was at the March campaign office. I must have gotten there just minutes after they killed his campaign manager." She exhales a swift breath. "I'm okay. Scratches, bruises. I kicked her off the roof… but she got back up again and fled. I don't even know how that happened."

"I put half a dozen rounds of five-point-five-six into one of them, four rounds of buckshot into another, and four into a third. The only one who stopped moving was the last one, after," his eyes flicker aside a moment, searching the rain-swept buildings around them, "Gordon emptied a clip into it and I put one more into its face. They're tough as hell. Hawkgirl nabbed one. I wanna follow up with her." His right index finger taps on the receiver of the rifle under his right arm, "Figure out what these shitheads are. And what they want. Because they've got targets and they don't like stoppin'"

Barbara reaches up to rub slightly at her neck under the protection of her hood as Frank gives her the short debrief of what's happened in front of her dad's house. She looks up at him when he mentions that Jim unloaded a clip into the face of one of these things, and her lips part in surprise. "Wait, Kendra got one?" She turns slightly toward the clinic at the far side of the block, and then back to Frank. Her brows arch slightly at Frank's description of these Talons and their motivations, and her lips press together. "A little bit like you… they're just on the wrong side of the fight." She reaches to touch the back of his hand gently before she turns away slightly.

Frank frowns slightly as Barbara rubs at the back of her neck, shifting in the puddles atop the roof as he studies her. He starts to nod, yes Kendra got one, but then she describes them and he opens his mouth to contradict her. He looks down, considering, and then back up. His hand slips away from her arm, and he rubs his hand down his face to clear it of water and nods a little, "Maybe." His brows are still furrowed though, and eventually he shakes his head, "You figure the difference between me and them is the targets we pick? And there's six of 'em?" He reaches out with his hand again, catching up her arm, "He's okay, Red. I promise. He got cut, but some fuckin' magician fixed him."

"There's a lot of differences." Her words are soft in the rain as she steps in closer at the touch to her arm. She looks up at him through the rain-dribbling edge of her hood. "Frank, when you're out there, you are guided by your own code. I'm not sure these things have that." Her smile is fragile, and it almost trembles at the edges when Frank again promises her that he's safe. She takes in a deep breath, nodding her head as she looks away again toward the clinic. "I'm supposed to be back home with Dinah, doors locked." Then she releases a quick laugh before she smiles up at him, a bit stronger at the corners. "Witch-Daughter. Yeah. She's testing things out with the Birds." Which also means Babs's is testing her out. Now she looks up into his dark eyes. "Are you okay?"

Frank nods at the reassurance, letting out a little breath and shakes his head, "Yeah, yeah. You don't have to tell me." He pushes the reassurance off, but the furrow lightens between his eyes, just a little. "You're supposed to be home with the doors locked. That's fuckin' rich. Took me a carbine and a shotgun to face one down. You're doin' this shit with a couple'a throwing knives." Looking to the clinic once more, he squeezes her forearm briefly, "I'm okay, Red. Worst I got hurt was havin' to avoid that pale merc runnin' me over. New fuckin' experience." Jerking his head across the roof, he adds, "Pretty sure they ain't gonna hit anything now. You should get home before you get sick."

"But I'll tell you that anyway." The redhead's words are soft in the constant pellet of rain. Then she offers a quick, short laugh and she looks away from the Punisher at her side. "Throwing knives." Beat. "And concussion grenades." Barbara tilts a glance up to Frank before she looks back out at the clinic. "If you're sure…" Her gaze lingers on that lit building — a beacon in the dark of Park Row. Her eyes flicker down at the rain at their feet, watching the inky dark of the water swallow up the sky above them; slowly her eyes lift up to meet his once more. Her fingers grace up the forearm of his trench coat to its elbow, and there she steps in close to press her lips gently to his cheek.

Frank nods again, "Yeah, I know." That's Frank-ese for 'thank you.' "Yeah, concussion grenades. And you bein' a badass." He shifts the rifle under his arm, staring down at the clinic through the rain, "I'll stay here until morning, Red." His left arm loops around her waist when she steps close, and his eyes close for a moment, a slow breath lifting his ribs and then letting them fall away again. "Just to make sure." He hunches his shoulders against the rain, looking down at her and then dropping his brow slowly to hers, his voice quieting. "I got this, Red." There's a pause, and then he chuckles faintly, "Nutjob told your dad. He made me real easy."

"You don't have to," Babs starts to argue as Frank promises to stay. "You said so yourself — they probably won't strike again tonight. You could… come home with me." But those words fall a bit as she feels her shoulders loosen. Her eyes close as the weight of his brow rests against hers, and she lifts her face fearlessly into the rain. "I know you — " Then his words sink in, and she leans back away from him with a blink. "I mean, Frank… you're wearing the vest…" She looks up at him with a puzzled frown.

"I could." Frank draws in another breath, his hand coming up to her jawline, "When he's got someone else watchin' over him, I'll head back to your place." He shrugs a little helplessly, "Yeah. He knows Babs is datin' Frank Castle. Pretty sure he knew before." His thumb brushes over her cheek, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. "Your dad's pretty fuckin' smart, Red. Looks like you got it from somewhere." Shaking his head a little, he adds, "Pretty sure he's not gonna tell anyone. He asked me if I thought savin' him was gonna win me points." More or less.

Babs blinks again in surprise, but then she starts to laugh just before he presses that kiss to her lips. She rocks forward into that touch of lips as she savors the quiet moment in the rain with Frank Castle. Then her chin tips away, and she shakes her head. "I keep forgetting that he's a detective, too." She looks up at him through the dribbling edge of her hood again. "And you told him that all you cared about was making sure that I didn't lose my dad, didn't you?" She brings both hands up to cup his jawline in the rain. "Yeah. I guess we will have to figure out what to do with that." Now she leans in to press a gentle kiss to his lips again. "I'll get home." Her knuckles brush up his cheek. Then she steps back a little step. "I'll make sure there's coffee in the pot." Her lips twitch with a little smile.

Rainwater drips on Frank's chin from Babs's hood, "Yeah, pretty much." He turns his head into her hand, "Don't know that there's anything to do about it, Red." His eyes close as she leans up to him, his hand slipping around the side of her neck to clasp her close for a moment. She steps back, extending his arm to keep it at her neck, "You sure know how to sweet-talk a guy." Finally he lets his hand drop away from her neck, and he nods, "I'll be home as soon as he's in the clear." A hint of a smile touches his water-logged face as well, "And you can over-think what you wanna do about your Dad until I get there."

The lingering hold on the back of her neck holds her close to him for a long heartbeat. Then Babs brushes her fingers across his rough jaw again before she starts to turn, tapping her knuckles loosely against his chest against the white skull. "You don't know anything about me." Now the redhead turns away from him, looking back over her shoulder toward the rain-soaked soldier.

The sun is almost up over Gotham, not that you can tell, because it's still pissing with rain. Frank was soaked before, now he's just existing in a world filled with wet. It's… not that unusual, truth be told. He dropped Babs a text when he left his hide above the Clinic, letting her know he was on his way over, and so when he pulls the van into the driveway, he checks for any lights still on, then heads around to the side of the yard, gathering up gravel as he goes. The first pebble thunks into the window frame instead of the glass, an indication of his weariness, but the second and third strike the glass and rattle off quietly.

The familiar sound of pebbles striking glass rouses Babs from her exhausted sleep. Her hair is a mess of tangled and tousled curls. There's random locks of hair that seem to be imitating nests. She barely stripped out of her wet jeans before she collapsed onto her comforter and slept with only a fluffy Birmese as her feet warmer. Now she picks at the hem of her shirt as it skirts over the tops of her thighs. She's had a rough night. With a peek down into the still-heavy rain, she spots Frank in her lawn. She smiles down at him briefly before she points to the door and disappears from sight. Alaska stretches with a wide yawn and then pads after Barbara as she climbs down the stairs to unlock and open the front door for a wet Frank Castle.

Frank has another pebble cocked back, ready to throw, but there's a bedraggled Barbara Gordon at the window, so he just shakes his head in fond amusement, a hint of a smile touching his lips, and then he nods and heads back toward the front door, dropping the remaining pebbles off as he goes. He's already removed the vest, so he's just in his soaked t-shirt, jeans, and trench coat when she opens the door. His smile returns as he steps inside, his cold fingers touching her elbow, her cheek, and then dropping away so that he can set down a duffel of dry clothes, pull off his jacket and hang it up, then pull off his shoes. "You look like you slept like shit, Red." After he picks up his bag again, his fingers seek out her cheek once more, "You wanna talk about it?"

Babs barely shivers when his cold fingers touch her elbow, and she gravitates toward that chilled Punisher as he takes off his boots to leave them soaked at the front door. It will be a good sign to the housemates that he's here. Not that Helena and Dinah are all that surprised anymore. She leans in toward him as he touches her cheek and she smiles wearily against the touch. "Just… last night. And Dad. You're here so I'm guessing that it's okay. He's laying low which means he thinks that this isn't done yet." She arches up to kiss his wet cheek and then she laughs. "You taste like rain. I'm guessing that you didn't do much rain overseas." Now she nods him toward the bathroom on this floor. "Go. Get changed. I'll get some coffee going. We can talk more. Want some eggs?" There's something oddly domestic about how easily those words come.

"You'd be surprised. Some parts of the 'Stan get rain." Frank pauses, considering, "But not like Gotham. And you sure you want to taste Gotham rain?" The kiss on his cheek gets a little smile, but then his face sinks into a little frown again as he follows her directions, "Yeah, he's fine. Bullock showed up about forty minutes ago. Figured he could watch your dad for a while." His eyes narrow slightly at her offer of eggs, but then he nods, "Yeah sure. Scrambled's fine." Not because that has the best chance of being edible. Really. He heads into the bathroom, and is only gone a few minutes, but when he comes back out, he's in sweats and a t-shirt, his hair rumpled from towel-drying. He follows the smell of coffee to the kitchen, stepping up behind Babs and wrapping an arm around her shoulders gently. "So you kicked a Talon off a roof and it walked away. We talkin' fourth floor or somethin'?"

When Frank enters the kitchen, Babs is slotting the filter basket into place and taps the button that will start brewing some fresh coffee. Her hair has been teased through with her fingers but there's plenty of tangles though she has gotten most of the nests out. She's about to turn before she has arms sweeping around her and she leans back into him with a heavy weight. Her head turns into his chest and she takes in the scent of him in his clean clothes and the lingering smells of Gotham rain underneath. She then look up toward him with a little smile tugging up at the corner of her lips before it collapses again into a frown. "Tenth floor. She hit the ground and just… got up. She was limping and looked like she broke her arm, but that was it. I can't tell you what that means. Metahumans?"

Frank turns his head into hers, pressing a kiss to her temple. He considers her question, clearly asking himself if he could do that. He answers with a shake of his head, "Yeah. Gotta be. Or drugged to fuck and back. Gotta be not feelin' much of anythin' to do that. And be lucky." Her own scent mixes quite perfectly with the rich smell of the coffee, and his arm tightens around her. "You thought you'd crippled her, didn't you? Not because you were tryin' to, just because of where she fell."

Babs is quiet as she is held in place by the comforting and strong arm around her middle. She starts to slowly nod, but it ends with a grimace. "I didn't care if I had crippled her or killed her in that moment. I wasn't sure that I could get out of that alive if I didn't get her out of the equation entirely. The stab plate and ballistic weave did their job, but I'm not sure if I could have fended her off much longer. She almost got my Achilles. My boot is cut up. I'll probably need a new one, but yellow duct tape will work for now." She realizes she's rambling so she rubs at the bridge of her nose and squeezes her wrist to let her go so she can go get the egg carton out of the fridge.

Frank nods slowly at her confirmation. "Yeah. Just wanted to get shit dealt with." It's the voice of understanding, but he looses her at the squeeze to his wrist, "I don't gotta check to make sure you're not actually hurt, do I?" He replaces her in front of the coffee machine, leaning against the counter and watching her cross the short distance between fridge and stove, "I'm good with 'if you can't duct it, fuck it,' but seriously? Let's get you some new boots as soon as we can. Gotta take care of your feet." As she fetches the eggs, he grins, "You're good to go with those, right? I'm not gonna have to step in and take over?" He shivers a bit in the wake of the departure of her warmth, rubbing at his chest, and then glances down, smirking just a touch, "They didn't seem to use guns. Just knives and like, tryin' to take people's heads off. Same with you?"

"I don't know. Do I need to check to make sure you're not actually hurt?" Babs cuts a glance toward him over her shoulder before she grabs some butter and then kicks the door shut. She strides back to the stove and sets the eggs and butter container on the counter. She snorts at his teasing. "I've been practicing." Making scrambled eggs. She puts the pan on the stove and gets the burner going before she gets a bowl to beat-up the eggs. "Knives, speed, and some serious agility. She must have gymnastic training. She was— I haven't seen anything that fast and agile since that one time Dad took me to the circus at the fairgrounds. It would have been breathtaking if I wasn't try to avoid getting my throat slit. Going back to the full-neck cowl was a good idea." She cracks the eggs a bit hesitantly into the bowl, over cautious of the shells. Then she uses a fork to beat them into a lather. She glances up at him. "I wonder if these guys are the ones grabbing the random people earlier in the summer. Maybe setting up the warnings?"

"Don't you usually?" Frank flashes another half-grin, "Problem with being a badass, Red, nobody believes you when you say you ain't hurt." Still, he doesn't check her any further for wounds. Instead, he barks a laugh at her description of her assailant, "You know you're sayin' that as someone who does shit like, ninety-eight percent of people can't do, right?" He smirks a little as he watches her crack the eggs, shaking his head, then even that hint of a smile fades as he considers the idea, a frown gathering over his heavy features, "Like you old teammate? The people with all the nursery rhyme stuff? Could be them, could be they got the idea from some other nutjob. But seems to me like much else just doesn't make much sense. There aren't that many coincidences, even in Gotham."

"You're not walking like you pushed yourself through pain, so I'm thinking you're okay." Her blue eyes pass over him quickly as if to double check that assessment. Now she takes a breath and add a pat of butter to the pan. It melts fast with a bit of smoke that suggests her pan is just a bit too hot. She frowns and twists the dial to turn it down. Then she glances up toward him. "I don't know." That bothers her. "How many guys was there at Dad's again? Three?"

Frank nods, "Yeah, I'm fine, Red. Really." He starts to say something, but she's already turning the pan down, and instead he just nods at her worried statement. The question draws a frown, "Four? Five?" And that troubles him. He should be able to track enemy combatants in a fight. "One on my van, one going after the merc's car, two by the house. Either one more in Taffett's house or maybe they went there first." Snorting a bit of a laugh, he shrugs, "We gotta work on plannin' too. A bunch'a the folks on comms were worried about my van. People here ain't used to chaos."

Babs pours the eggs into the still-too-hot pan and the eggs sizzle. She is a bit too quick with the spatula to start to stir them up, but it is really hard to mess up eggs and she has been trying. She stirs them slow and let's them cook. Her eyes flicker over to him when he worries over just how many had been there. "They're good at coordinating."
She sucks in a tight breath. "I didn't see more than one but I think she was overwatch. Whoever was actually inside the campaign office did what they came there to do. I didn't even see anyone come in or out." She worries at her lip while she stirs up the eggs again. Then she snorts out a short breath. "Look. We know how to handle chaos. We just aren't military trained. ALTHENE was having some struggles in the rain, too. She should have flagged your van for everyone else. It was just you, Kendra and Witch-Daughter, right?"

Frank shakes his head, "Naw. The albino merc from Brooklyn was there too. On comms. There was also some chick with a whip and wearing a fuckin' cat-suit. She seemed to know your dad." He watches the eggs, glancing up to the cook every now and then, "Kendra seemed solid. Witch-girl followed orders well." He snorts amusement, cracking that little smile once more, "Sorry, reacted to suggestions real well. Wouldn't dream of orderin' the Birds around." His smile fades, but when he shakes his head, there's still a sense in his eyes that he's smiling, "Can't hardly throw an ambush without hittin' a vigilante or three in Gotham, yeah?"

"Domino," Babs remembers. She exhales a sharp breath that ends in a sudden laugh at Frank's pretty solid description of Catwoman. She shakes her head as amusement interrupts the otherwise serious topics. "That's Catwoman. She's… she can sometimes stick her neck out if she thinks it suits her interests. She's a thief. Not really someone who I would be worried about unless she turns her claws on you." She turns off the stove and evacuates the pan to a cold burner. Then she gets plates. "I know you wouldn't order us around. But your feedback and insights are helpful, Frank. You got a different eye for situations that I don't. I can remember everything I see, but I'm still limited by context."

Frank nods slowly as she names the two additional women involved in the fracas. "Of course the one with the claws in the catsuit is Catwoman." He moves to take the plates so that Babs can dish the breakfast up. "So she thinks that your Dad getting hurt is bad for her business." Grunting thoughtfully, he shakes the though off, "Or maybe she just saw so many vigilantes in the area, it was help out or get in trouble." He smirks a little crookedly, "Mosta my feedback's just gonna be, 'use a damn pistol,' or 'brief and debrief' or grumpy-ass shit like that." His shoulders roll in a shrug, "I know how to clear a building, you know how to keep a city together. I'll be a First Sergeant to the Birds, but you're the CO."

Healing spoonfuls of eggs are dishes out onto the plates. She hands Frank his plate and then she gets two forks; she doesn't wander to the table but instead leans against the counter. She shovels in a mouthful of eggs, speaking around the bite as delicately as she can, "Catwoman knows how to be a hero when she needs to, I guess. Dad will have a lot to say about her sticking her neck out to save him. It will all be grumpy, too." She glances up at him as she forks up another mouthful, and she smiles at him. "Okay. I can deal with that, Sarge." She leans in to press a little kiss to his cheek before she ducks the cabinet behind her so she can reach in backwards for a coffee mug, handing it over to him.

When he's provided with fork and food, Frank begins to feed his face. It's how he works. He snorts at the mention of Jim having grumpy things to say, about to comment on the fact that that tends to be his modus operandi as well… and then swallows the words along with a mouthful of eggs. Comparing yourself to your girlfriend's father rarely works in your favor. He smiles faintly under the kiss, but quickly tucks the plate onto the counter behind him to take the coffee mug, "Oh yeah." He immediately starts to fill the mug, replacing the pot afterwards and cradling the mug under his face. "Just be sure you don't ever put fraternization rules in your Birds. 'Cause I like fraternizing with you, Red."

Babs doesn't catch the sudden consumption of words behind those mouthfuls of eggs. She is too busy eating her own eggs. When he goes to get coffee, she looks up at him with a slow brimming smile. Then that smile turns toward laughter when talk turns to fraternization. "And you're the type that wouldn't break the rules." Now she goes back to eating, only looking up to cast him an almost shy smile while she works through her eggs. "You need to get back up to the Keep, or are you going to stay?" She hesitates. "I won't ask for dinner with Dad. Don't think either of us are ready for that."

Frank's shrug is accompanied by a flash of a boyish grin, "Most'a the time." Considering that most of his life consists of breaking the rules of civilized society at the moment. Taking a sip of his coffee, he shrugs again, shaking his head, "Guess I never was much good at following the rules, come to think of it. Just direct orders." The shy smile and the question that follows sinks relaxation into his shoulders, and he leans back against the counter, taking another sip of coffee, then swapping mug for plate and working through the rest of his eggs, "Already called in to work." The mention of family dinner, however, tightens his lips, and a frown gathers between his brows, "Don't know if your dad'd be interested in that either. Pretty sure he threatened to arrest me twice for the gear in the van. I'll have to go back before dinner anyhow. Shouldn't be gone two nights in a row if I can help it."

"Would you break the rules for me?" Her eyes flicker up toward Frank with a quirk of a smile at the corners of her lips. Then she sinks a bit closer to him with an all-too-casual slide along the edge of the counter. She finishes off her plate, setting it aside by the sink opposite Frank's own hip. Then she's turning toward him with her hip leaning into the counter now. "Yeah." She bites at the edge of her lip. "I know. I'm expecting… a conversation." She looks down a bit before she turns again, planting both hands on either side of her on the countertop edge. A little smile twitches into place as she says, "But he didn't arrest you." Then she shakes her head. "I wasn't serious." She looks down. "You… okay with Dad knowing about this?" She glances up at him now.

Frank finishes off his eggs, stacking the plate atop Barbara's and gathering up his coffee cup in one hand again. As she slides closer, he settles his free hand at the back of her hip, chuckling dryly, "Pretty sure I already have, Red. Most of 'em." He takes another sip of his coffee, rolling the liquid caffeine about in his mouth before he swallows it, "Think so? Yeah, maybe he can't really ignore it anymore. Or maybe he can. Given how well he ignores the Bats runnin' 'round town, he might hold off couple more weeks." He snorts softly, "And no, he didn't even try. Figured even he knew that was gonna be a hard-sell." There's a more serious question there, though, and he frowns, nodding slowly, "Yeah. I got no problem with him knowing about us, unless it puts more pressure on you, Red. Hell, I'd rather we'd been able to tell him straight out. I don't like this hidin' shit."

"Really?" Barbara's brows arch high when Frank suggests that he's already broken some rules with her, and then she laughs with a slight glance away. She pushes off the counter and away from his hand as she gets her own coffee cup, and she starts to nod with him as he talks about the realities of Jim Gordon and Frank Castle dating his daughter. "I'm not expecting him to talk to you… I'm expecting him to talk to me. Approach me, try to get me to see that this isn't going to end well, and when it does end, it will be in tears." She sighs out a soft breath, and her chin dips a bit as she cradles her own cup in her hands. Her eyes flicker up to him. "You mean tell him everything… including Batgirl."

Frank shrugs a little at her question, "Plenty." He snorts softly at the suggestion that Gordon might deign to talk to him, and he nods. But he skips past the prophesying to her suggestion, and he shakes his head, "Naw. That's your choice, Red. Nothin' to do with me. I just meant the parts about you and me. I get it, I ain't never really been the kind of catch you bring home to your Dad." A little smile twists around his coffee cup, and he adds, "Might be worse than that now though. Pretty sure you're the only one crazy enough to have any interest in Frank Castle." There's a pause, "The only sane one crazy enough."

"What would you tell him?" Babs searches his eyes in this closeness now that she's leaning against the counter beside him. "If we walked in and decided to tell him the parts about you and me, what would you say?" Her chin tilts slightly to one side, and her smile is a little uncertain. "The only sane one crazy enough? I'm trying to find the compliment and the insult there." Then she looks away into her coffee cup.

Frank considers that for a moment before he supplies a little awkwardly, "Shit, I don't know." More thought goes into the question, even as he responds, "There wasn't an insult, and I don't think there was a real compliment either. Just facts." He drains off another sip of coffee, then settles the nearly-empty cup behind him, his fingers tightening a little at the back of her hip to draw her in closer to him, "I don't know. I think I'd just tell him that I never expected to find love again, but that you showed me what happens when someone believes in you."

His fingers tighten at her hip, and she pivots to lean into his hips with him caught between her and the countertop. She sets her own half-drained mug on the counter beside his own. She looks up at him, and again her chin tips a bit. "You can still tell him that, Frank." Her hands settle on his arms, trailing down from his shoulders to just above his elbows. "You can tell him all of that." Her chin dips slightly and a tangled curl swoops loose of her ear.

"Didn't figure the vest and the van were the time for that." Frank lets out a little breath as she leans into him, his other hand settling on her hip as well, "Tryin' to avoid cops with the Police Commissioner in the back of my van." He shakes his head slowly, bringing one hand free to brush the curl of cinnamon red back into place, "Maybe it's better that you tell me what I shouldn't tell him, Red. You know, next time I got him in the back of my van, or he's got a gun on me, tryin' to decide whether or not to take me in."

"Good call." The redhead looks up at him with those warm, but serious blue eyes. She turns her cheek into his fingers as he brushes back that lock of hair. "He probably thought it was the right time, which is why he sprung it on you." Then she starts to shake her head, and she catches his elbow. "Tell him everything… it wasn't Batgirl who was there with you, Frank. It was me. I think you will know what to say if Dad corners you again." Now she breaks into an easy smile. "You'll make the right call. I trust you."

"Yeah, right time to try to rattle me," Frank's snort shows how much he thinks of that plan. It's not much. "I won't tell him about the ship, or anything like that, but I don't got any problem tellin' him the rest of it." His lips press together to try and smother a mischievous smile. They fail. "Maybe not the rest of it. Pretty sure I won't talk 'bout what I plan to do with you when we wake up." Because apparently a dawn cup of coffee is a nice nightcap to him. He sobers again, leaning forward to press his brow to hers, then to roll his head so that he can capture her lips in a soft kiss, "I know, Red. I trust you too. Now let's get some shut-eye, yeah?"

"Probably a good idea," Babs just softly laughs out before he kisses her. She leans up into that touch of lips, her own smile warm against his. Then she murmurs, "But you could tell me about what you want to do with me when we wake up." Now she nods her head gently before she slides her fingers down to capture his, and then she leads him off the counter. "Come on. I'll draw the darker curtains so we can get some rest."

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