[Frank looks at the colas, a brow raised at the question, then helps himself to one. He opens it up and drinks from the can, then nods.]
Thanks.
[He begins to serve himself a plate of spaghetti and pours the sauce on top, then picks up his fork to begin eating. As he eats, though, he glances at Scott now and again.]
So you're... Bug Guy.
[Or something like that.]
What brings you to Hell's Kitchen, Mr. Lang? You avenging something?
Ant-Man, but I'll give you points for trying. ( scott takes a nice couple of gulps from his own can of pop--happy, essentially, to stuff himself with sugar. scott's a guy who's big on it, which probably explains a lot. ) And, um... no. See, I help the Avengers from time to time, but I'm not really on the front line. Not so big into getting myself into violent... alien-murdering situations.
( he's been called a pussy for that. repeatedly. scott wears the title with pride. )
I'm here for recon. ( slurping noodles into his mouth, scott chews, swallows, and smiles. ) There's something mighty shitty happening with some... jerks who've mastered immortality.
[Frank continues eating. Normally he doesn't eat quite so much. Strictly coffee diet when he's on an assignment. When he's not, though, he tries to fuel up. Right now, he's not entirely sure if this is an assignment or not, given who he's talking to.]
And is that why you're having me over for dinner? It can't be for the company.
Oh, uh... not really. It's more like sometimes you just need to rest your head a little.
( scott shrugs his shoulders. it's nothing strange to him, really, given he'd come from prison and thrived on the kindness of others willing to help after. no harm in doing nice things, even if he's housing a serial killer. then again, the company scott generally keeps aren't necessarily the most innocent, either.
he scratches the end of his nose. ) I mean, you don't have to stay. But it looks like you're liking that spaghetti well enough, which is awesome already.
I got a futon which is a lot nicer than a motel bed, though.
[Scott's usual company probably aren't murderers, though. He's taking quite a risk inviting someone like Frank Castle into his apartment. Then again, Frank is supposed only be after people who deserve it, so Scott is probably safe if those reports are true.]
Something other than a motel bed would be a nice change. [He'll admit that much.]
( scott laughs, pointing with his fork. ) Yeah, see? You get me.
( and maybe he's pushing his luck, but scott doesn't think too much about it. frank's not necessarily one of his best friends; he's also not a total stranger. the line is strange, honestly, but he's good company, at least. )
But okay--okay. Humour me. ( he scoops some spaghetti between his tines, watching frank curiously. ) What's the grossest motel bed you've ever had to sleep on?
[That's not the type of question Frank had expected. Was this guy for real? He just wanted small talk? Frank thought about it a moment, then shrugged.]
There was one that smelled like every rat in the city had crawled into the sheets and died.
[That's probably not a great image while they're eating dinner.]
It--what? Really? ( scott could pass for riveted, almost. ) Was it at least comfortable?
( and it seems like a lot of mundane shit... because, yeah, it's mundane shit. but there's a point to all of it, scott likes to think. a break of normalcy between all the mercenary killings and all scott's own crap. )
Were there any actual rats? Was this smell unwashed comestains 8 months later? Dude.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Thanks.
[He begins to serve himself a plate of spaghetti and pours the sauce on top, then picks up his fork to begin eating. As he eats, though, he glances at Scott now and again.]
So you're... Bug Guy.
[Or something like that.]
What brings you to Hell's Kitchen, Mr. Lang? You avenging something?
no subject
( he's been called a pussy for that. repeatedly. scott wears the title with pride. )
I'm here for recon. ( slurping noodles into his mouth, scott chews, swallows, and smiles. ) There's something mighty shitty happening with some... jerks who've mastered immortality.
no subject
And is that why you're having me over for dinner? It can't be for the company.
[He's not good company in general, he thinks.]
I don't know much about them.
no subject
( scott shrugs his shoulders. it's nothing strange to him, really, given he'd come from prison and thrived on the kindness of others willing to help after. no harm in doing nice things, even if he's housing a serial killer. then again, the company scott generally keeps aren't necessarily the most innocent, either.
he scratches the end of his nose. ) I mean, you don't have to stay. But it looks like you're liking that spaghetti well enough, which is awesome already.
I got a futon which is a lot nicer than a motel bed, though.
no subject
Something other than a motel bed would be a nice change. [He'll admit that much.]
no subject
( and maybe he's pushing his luck, but scott doesn't think too much about it. frank's not necessarily one of his best friends; he's also not a total stranger. the line is strange, honestly, but he's good company, at least. )
But okay--okay. Humour me. ( he scoops some spaghetti between his tines, watching frank curiously. ) What's the grossest motel bed you've ever had to sleep on?
no subject
There was one that smelled like every rat in the city had crawled into the sheets and died.
[That's probably not a great image while they're eating dinner.]
LMAO IM SORRY FRANK
( and it seems like a lot of mundane shit... because, yeah, it's mundane shit. but there's a point to all of it, scott likes to think. a break of normalcy between all the mercenary killings and all scott's own crap. )
Were there any actual rats? Was this smell unwashed comestains 8 months later? Dude.
lol XD
I try not to think about it. Shit. You collect hotel horror stories or something?