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[subplot]

» WHO? Karen & Elektra
» WHEN? Now
» WHERE? Somewhere
» WHAT? Things
» WARNINGS? Nah



[Karen's not an alcoholic, but it might be easy to think she is with how often she frequents the bar these days. It's become her favorite place to think and work for hours at a time, slowly sipping at a drink or two. She manages to miss a lot of people in the process, which is probably how she hasn't taken notice of a very specific person that drops in probably about as often as she does. It isn't until she takes a break and glances over at whoever's sitting in the seat next to hers that she realizes Frank isn't the only person from home here.

She definitely recognizes that face, remembers it clearly.

Shock is evident as she stares for a moment, struggling to find anything to say that isn't petty or childish.]

So, you finally managed to ditch Matt.

[That's a joke. Look at how she's smiling. Clearly, this is a great start to a conversation.]

Comments

[subplot]

[O-Oh. She's not expecting to see that. Or hear that kind of answer really, though she guesses it makes sense. Always nosy, Karen reaches out to very lightly touch at the skin around the injury. It reminds her a little too much of Frank.]

Oh, I'd definitely say yes if you asked me out, now that I've seen it.

[It makes Karen laugh a little to be so stupid. It's nice to just have a genuine conversation with someone with no expectations of how she should act.]

Has someone here seen this? I'm not sure if there are any doctors, but I know someone that can help. He's from home. His name is Frank Castle.

[blacksky]

[Elektra makes no move to stop her. Really she's on the money. There's on a cut on the back of her neck to match this one. God only knows how well it's healed when she had to take out the stitches herself on the station. She openly scoffs at her questions.] You think I'd let one of these idiots touch me? As far as they're concerned the hardest thing I do all day is lift a glass to my lips. I'm keeping it that way as long as possible.

[Karen is obviously welcome to touch clearly. She buttons up her shirt as she mulls over the idea of letting him in on this. She does have leverage on him; both of them really. She doesn't see Karen tattling to anyone about her war wounds or Frank for that matter. Still it makes her feel in control so she proceeds like Karen is talking her into it.] I've met Frank the bartender. I wouldn't mind asking him for help if you reached out first.