[ he smiles, both for her (admittedly not very happy) sentiment as well as the way her foot taps against his big boot. god, he missed his boots. it's such a simple thing but he's so happy to have them back. he feels more like himself every minute he wears them.
her suggestion is a solid one and so he's getting up, spine racked by a tiny shiver as he gets to his feet. he remembers maria calling him and the kids inside on snow days. you'll catch your death. he'd made fun of her for sounding like her mom. ]
My house is closer. [ a justification though really he's thinking about the case of wine the natives had brought him. rey might not be old enough to drink, but she's old enough to enlist. that's good enough for frank. it isn't like she could forget where his house is so he merely stuffs his hands in his pockets and heads in that direction. when he reaches the garage door, instead of checking the hinges he throws open the door noisily. god that felt good.
his fight room has been upgraded, it would seem. a huge silent-proofed boxing ring sitting in the middle of it. there's a muslin dummy for punching and hand rolls in a pile on the floor. he walks past all of it, including the giant skull he'd painted on the wall, throwing back the curtain to his teeny bedroom with equal force. there's a single person cot where he doesn't sleep and a small bookshelf with a bouquet of dried up peonies on the top. he beelines for the box of swag the natives gave him, pulling out a wine bottle full of pink liquid and lifting an eyebrow as if to ask her if she's interested, his sopping wet clothes dripping across the floor seemingly unnoticed by him. ]
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her suggestion is a solid one and so he's getting up, spine racked by a tiny shiver as he gets to his feet. he remembers maria calling him and the kids inside on snow days. you'll catch your death. he'd made fun of her for sounding like her mom. ]
My house is closer. [ a justification though really he's thinking about the case of wine the natives had brought him. rey might not be old enough to drink, but she's old enough to enlist. that's good enough for frank. it isn't like she could forget where his house is so he merely stuffs his hands in his pockets and heads in that direction. when he reaches the garage door, instead of checking the hinges he throws open the door noisily. god that felt good.
his fight room has been upgraded, it would seem. a huge silent-proofed boxing ring sitting in the middle of it. there's a muslin dummy for punching and hand rolls in a pile on the floor. he walks past all of it, including the giant skull he'd painted on the wall, throwing back the curtain to his teeny bedroom with equal force. there's a single person cot where he doesn't sleep and a small bookshelf with a bouquet of dried up peonies on the top. he beelines for the box of swag the natives gave him, pulling out a wine bottle full of pink liquid and lifting an eyebrow as if to ask her if she's interested, his sopping wet clothes dripping across the floor seemingly unnoticed by him. ]