Today is the day he finally gets his shit together to go talk to Karen about everything between them. After a long sleep in Elektra's room, he can think again, mind unclouded. Everything seems a little brighter, a little clearer this morning - well, nearing afternoon. He had been tired, go figure. He's always tired.
6.19 is a welcome reprieve though he hasn't seen the inside of his own room since June, it feels like. Maybe that's accurate, honestly. Frank shaves the sides of his head and shaves off days of stubble, feeling more like himself every moment that goes by since he regained his sense of touch. He makes his way through a shower and a fresh change into the same worn navy jumpsuit he always wears, trying not to think of his daily showers at Karen's place a week previously; needing her help for even the simplest of tasks.
A sound outside his door strains his hearing, though it feels next-to-superhuman after not having it at all. He's just so grateful that he can even if it sounds fucking bad. It sounds like-- someone's in trouble, maybe? It's enough to get Max's attention for sure, facing the door and pinning back his ears, growling lowly in uncertainty. Frank steps forward and ruffles his ears, taking the time to strap on his communicator, and drop his extra one in his pocket just in case.
By the time he's made it out into the corridor, no one is there and at first he thinks he just imagined it - if not for Max's reaction. That's when he sees the blood. Frank runs over to the spot on the floor, and from there looks up to see another smear. Someone was hurt here, or. This could be another station trap or illusion but if someone needs his help he has to take the chance. Telling Max to get behind him, he follows the trail to 6.27 and steels himself, all six mag-boots of man and canine heralding his arrival against the heavy metal grating of the floor. But for good measure, he raps S-A-F-E into the doorframe with his knuckles, the same way he always does.
The door opens on its own, apparently unlocked and he takes in a little breath in surprise. Max is on the slumped-over figure before Frank can physically get there, but then a solid hand is landing on Matt's shoulder and turning him over. He can't see the familiar, bruised visage of one Frank Castle, but he can smell him (sorry, at least he just showered) and feel a flat dog tongue lick at the back of his neck nervously.
"Red?" Matt will hear next, Frank's gruff voice carrying in an incredulous tone. Before he can fully think it through, he's hefting the other man over his shoulder as gently as he can and beelining it for the elevators.
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6.19 is a welcome reprieve though he hasn't seen the inside of his own room since June, it feels like. Maybe that's accurate, honestly. Frank shaves the sides of his head and shaves off days of stubble, feeling more like himself every moment that goes by since he regained his sense of touch. He makes his way through a shower and a fresh change into the same worn navy jumpsuit he always wears, trying not to think of his daily showers at Karen's place a week previously; needing her help for even the simplest of tasks.
A sound outside his door strains his hearing, though it feels next-to-superhuman after not having it at all. He's just so grateful that he can even if it sounds fucking bad. It sounds like-- someone's in trouble, maybe? It's enough to get Max's attention for sure, facing the door and pinning back his ears, growling lowly in uncertainty. Frank steps forward and ruffles his ears, taking the time to strap on his communicator, and drop his extra one in his pocket just in case.
By the time he's made it out into the corridor, no one is there and at first he thinks he just imagined it - if not for Max's reaction. That's when he sees the blood. Frank runs over to the spot on the floor, and from there looks up to see another smear. Someone was hurt here, or. This could be another station trap or illusion but if someone needs his help he has to take the chance. Telling Max to get behind him, he follows the trail to 6.27 and steels himself, all six mag-boots of man and canine heralding his arrival against the heavy metal grating of the floor. But for good measure, he raps S-A-F-E into the doorframe with his knuckles, the same way he always does.
The door opens on its own, apparently unlocked and he takes in a little breath in surprise. Max is on the slumped-over figure before Frank can physically get there, but then a solid hand is landing on Matt's shoulder and turning him over. He can't see the familiar, bruised visage of one Frank Castle, but he can smell him (sorry, at least he just showered) and feel a flat dog tongue lick at the back of his neck nervously.
"Red?" Matt will hear next, Frank's gruff voice carrying in an incredulous tone. Before he can fully think it through, he's hefting the other man over his shoulder as gently as he can and beelining it for the elevators.