Frank Castle was not made by God. (punishes) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-04-29 20:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, dutch velders, frank castle (the punisher) |
Who: Dutch Velders and Frank Castle.
What: Chance meeting over drinks.
When: Early April.
Where: A bar.
Rating/Warnings: Low / Swearing.
Status: Complete.
Some days, you just needed a drink. There wasn’t really any reason behind it for Frank - well, okay, maybe he felt like he needed one or three on behalf of his dream counterpart. He had enough friends who liked a good drink to know where to go and where not to go, and today he’d settled on a place that wasn’t a dive, but wasn’t totally classy, either. Classy didn’t really suit Frank, anyway.
He sat at the bar and ordered a beer, a dark stout. There wasn’t anything on the televisions he cared about, but he watched anyway, absently reading the subtitles. He’d beaten the late evening/night crowd and was perfectly content with the emptiness of the place. Frank was a man who enjoyed his me-time.
Victrola wasn’t doing it for Dutch on that day, so she’d decided to venture out to a different bar. If there was a bar in Orange County that she hadn’t been to, it was news to her. She’d been to this one maybe once or twice. It wasn’t a bad establishment and felt good for the evening, so she parked herself on a stool and ordered a perfect pint of Guinness. It seemed like the right way to end her day, all things considered.
Taking a sip of her drink she let her eyes roam. When she caught sight of Frank a few stools down her eyes widened slightly. “No shit.” She mumbled to herself. “Frank, is that you?” She called out, raising her voice so that he could hear her over the din of the bar. Like most bars there was a fair amount of background noise. Conversations, games being played, the usual stuff.
Frank had noticed someone sit down. It was what he did, notice things. Beyond that, he hadn’t cared. It was a bar, people came and went, and he was more than content to sit there and drink his beer. Until he heard his name.
His head raised and he turned it, just enough, to find that the speaker was the latest patron to sit down. And his lips quirked up. Frank didn’t talk to a whole lot of people if he could avoid, so the ones he did talk to, he remembered. Talk about a small world. He picked up his drink to move down. It was polite.
“Guess it is. Unless you got me confused with another Frank.”
Dutch couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Well, since you’re the only Frank I know…” She shrugged her shoulders and took another drink of Guinness. It was nice running into someone. Dutch was the kind of person who didn’t really enjoy drinking alone. When she did drink alone it was with the goal of picking up a stranger and lately with Kanan around she didn’t really have a need to pick up strangers. She needed conversation. Perhaps Frank could provide that.
“How’re you doing?” She turned on her stool slightly, legs crossed and a small smile on her face. He was one of the people on the network who interested her and also one of the people she didn’t find to be an asshole, so when the math was done he turned out to be one of the people she liked.
Frank shrugged in turn. He might have laughed if she had voiced her musing about Frank offering conversation, but instead he took a drink from his own beer. “All right. Could be better, could be a hell of a lot worse.” He had nothing to complain about, in any case, even if his dreams gave him headaches and bad moods. “You? Still fighting vampires?”
“Same, I suppose.” Dutch’s mouth turned up into a half-smile. Work was still difficult, all thanks to Ruth, but life was far from miserable so she wasn’t going to starting whining. At the mention of vampires, she let out an amused huff of breath and nodded. “That’s me. Dutch Velders, vampire slayer. They’re still nasty fuckers, too.” A month ago she might have shuddered, but Dutch had gotten used to thinking of and picturing the vampires from her dreams. They weren’t as scary as they used to be. It was just over and The Master that gave her the willies nowadays.
“Did you get an ending to that cliffhanger dream with Bullseye yet?” She took a drink of Guinness, genuine curiosity showing in her face.
That got a snort. Frank shifted on his chair, visibly unimpressed at the sheer sound of the name Bullseye. He’d come across a lot of messed up bastards in his dreams, but Bullseye really made his skin crawl.
“Yeah. Not the one I wanted.” He grunted and took a sip of beer. “Police got us. Stuck us both in different jails on life support.”
“Well,” Dutch gave a facial shrug. “That’s bullshit.” She sighed and rolled her head to stretch her neck a bit. “Maybe you’ll get another chance, you know? If you’re both on life support then that means there’s at least a chance you’ll get to end him. I imagine, after all he’s put you through, that would be a very satisfying dream.” She wiggled her eyebrows with an almost mischievous smile.
“So, other than dream about creepers with targets on their heads, what is it that you do?” She took another long drink of Guinness.
“Seems to be just about all I do.” Dreaming in Orange County was a full time gig, as far as Frank was concerned. Some people got some really shitty deals out of it. He was still waiting for the day where he’d wake up, busted from limb to limb.
“I work out at a shooting range. Not much, it pays the bills.” And Frank knows guns. It seemed about as good a place as any for an ex-Marine to go to, especially one who wasn’t really picky about where he went. “Probably could get something better but I don’t mind it. Bitch at the office still giving you a hard time?”
“I know that feeling. Sometimes it’s like the dreams take over your life.” She shook her head. “Not literally. God, not literally. I mean, being a badass vampire hunter can be fun to dream about but I think I prefer to keep that shit in my sleep.”
“Shooting range, huh? I visit one from time to time to blow off steam and stay sharp.” Dutch smiled a little bit. She’d been going to a shooting range since college, something she’d never told her anti-gun hippie parents about. It had been a pleasant surprise when her skill with a gun from the dreams had carried over and her aim improved exponentially.
When he brought up the woman from work Dutch rolled her eyes emphatically and nodded. “Bitch actually filed a complaint about the way I dress. Nothing actually happened. No punishment. Nothing. I was able to argue my way out of a mess. Now she mostly just shoots me icy glares. My boss seems to think she’s jealous.” She smirked and shrugged her shoulders. “I just think she’s a frigid bitch with no appreciation for good shoes.”
“Some people just don’t like watching others be what they wanna be.” Frank took a long drink from his glass, finishing off his pint. He ordered up another one, then glanced at her. “You sticking around a bit? Next round’s on me.”
“Yeah, I figure I’ll hang around for a little longer.” She smiled a little bit and nodded at her half-finished pint of Guinness. “It’s much appreciated.” With that, she tilted back her glass and took a long drink.