Who: Frank Castle + Karen Page What: Frank would like an explanation that doesn't involve magic and time rifts, plz. When: Late morning, 24th February, Central Park Rating/Warnings: TBD
Frank remained by the tree where he'd found himself, phone clutched in one hand, the other running restlessly over his head every few seconds. In front of him people were skating, all moving in the same direction like a slow whirlpool on the ice.
He missed his coffee.
His phone buzzed periodically, answers from Karen to his series of increasingly desperate questions. None of them were what he wanted to hear. None of them helped him. He'd be happier thinking he'd taken a severe blow to the head and was in some kind of coma, and he was floating in this weird imagination land.
But Frank had seen the news, he'd read the papers, he couldn't ignore that there was a whole lot of strange shit even in the reality he'd come from. How could he? It had just managed to keep out his way until now.
Karen was here, though. And she was okay. That was important. She tied him to his sanity more than he would like to admit. She just needed to get to where he was, and then everything would be fine.