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[ Truth be told, she's of two minds about it. It bristles that she can end up so far from home and have her disadvantages be exactly the same — she's a woman, she's young, she's biracial without a drop of that convenient white — but none of that is Frank's fault, and the offer is very kind.
The man in the fire hydrant-red coat and the bloke with the scar on his chin that somehow ended up in the backseat of her car, grey and ashen and perpetually choking on their own coagulated blood, glaring at her every time she glances into her rearview mirror? They are his fault.
But she can't exactly get squirrelly about it six texts in, can she? ]
Thanks, Frank Appreciate it
Lunch is on me :)
You like sushi right?
[ She's fucking with him. It'll be pizza or something else Grunt Grunt Manly American Men like. ]
[ A handful of hours later, charitably between 9PM and midnight, she sends him another picture. He'll recognise the bar she works at, the one he occasionally frequents. On the far corner of the bar itself is one (1) familiar moss-covered boulder. A pair of large sunglasses have been put on it. Beneath the sunglasses, a crooked half smile has been drawn on in sharpie. Above the sunglasses, one sharpie-drawn eyebrow is straight and the other is meticulously cocked.
There's a small chalkboard above the rock. At any other time, it might read off a few specials or advertise 2JL cocktails when the band plays. Tonight, and for the foreseeable future, it says:
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
terrorisms) wrote2025-06-06 02:13 pm
no subject
You know what, it doesn't matter. This place is a god damn circus. There's about a million different ways this could've gone down. )
alright look
if you can hold off until tomorrow I'll go with you to a couple places, see if we can get you something cheaper
no promises
no subject
The man in the fire hydrant-red coat and the bloke with the scar on his chin that somehow ended up in the backseat of her car, grey and ashen and perpetually choking on their own coagulated blood, glaring at her every time she glances into her rearview mirror? They are his fault.
But she can't exactly get squirrelly about it six texts in, can she? ]
Thanks, Frank
Appreciate it
Lunch is on me :)
You like sushi right?
[ She's fucking with him. It'll be pizza or something else Grunt Grunt Manly American Men like. ]
no subject
( don't typecast him Nashua, this is a man that learned how to make congee from scratch. he's been around. )
no subject
See you tomorrow
[ A handful of hours later, charitably between 9PM and midnight, she sends him another picture. He'll recognise the bar she works at, the one he occasionally frequents. On the far corner of the bar itself is one (1) familiar moss-covered boulder. A pair of large sunglasses have been put on it. Beneath the sunglasses, a crooked half smile has been drawn on in sharpie. Above the sunglasses, one sharpie-drawn eyebrow is straight and the other is meticulously cocked.
There's a small chalkboard above the rock. At any other time, it might read off a few specials or advertise 2JL cocktails when the band plays. Tonight, and for the foreseeable future, it says:
SAY HELLO TO RAYNE "THE ROCK" ROHNSON!!!!
It's all about making lemons into lemonade. ]
no subject
she will never know whether or not he laughed. )