“I just… push people slightly to the left?!”

Hark; an Iron Fist in existential distress. "Aw c'mon Danny, that's not 𝙖𝙡𝙡 you do, buddy."

Things have been entirely too quiet lately. He's never liked the quiet.

...Sigh. Why, then, would an agent from Homeland Security be asking about him? Hypothetically speaking.

A hand snaps up, catches Frank by the wrist on a reflex. "...Sounds painful." Not like Matt would 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, or anything. "Maybe you should rethink wearing a mask? I could lend one o' my old ones."

i swear red's sometimes like a cockroach or somethin' — crawlin' out of the woodwork at the worst possible times and shit.

"Good morning to you too, Frank."

𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. But nothing nefarious, of course.

Not all the time, no. It just happens to be most of the time when he's involved.

There's a fresh pot brewing. And a bottle of aspirin beside it. Just in case.

First proper break he's had all day and he's starving. Anybody else wanna grab lunch?

Morning.

boy with a bloodied nose, boy with purple-green knuckles. boy that knows how to fight, how to bend, how to break. boy that always gets back up. boy that doesn't know when to stay down. boy that lives with knives in his hands. boy with a countdown, a deadline, a shelf-life.

Long day for her too, eh?

How's everyone else's Tuesday going?