[ @HerLethalClaws ]
The smell hits him before the growl. Blood. Wet pavement. Something animal.
“Seen monsters. Seen men pretending to be monsters… Let’s figure out which one you are.”
“You can afford military-grade weaponry but not a mask? Go figure.”
Lenses slightly dilate, as if he’s closely studying Frank’s movements. No threat. Not yet, at least.
“Ditto, Buford. I’ll be watching and making sure you don’t go off the rails.”
— @BornToPunish.
Ah, the big, bad, and 𝙪𝙜𝙡𝙮 Punisher.
While he doesn’t approve of Frank’s methods, he can sympathize with him to an extent as a father and husband.
Very rarely, the topic of their families would come up. It’s sorta nice.
“You had every reason to put a blade through me.”
His jaw tightens.
“You didn’t.” Frank’s expression remains unreadable.
“The Beast is dead.”
“I’m still cleaning up what it left behind.”
A shape peels away from the alley’s darkness, boots measured, the white skull on his chest catching the first sliver of streetlight.
“Been a while, Elektra.”