RUSTY | frank castle

THIRTEEN

Rusty was outside, walking Lexi and Fender. She had the hood of her jumper up and her coat zipped all the way because snow had fallen the night before. It was pure white, covering the ground and all the plants - well, the ones that managed to stay alive in the civilised area. 

The tall woman had her gun in the waistband of her jeans again; it was cold at first, but it her body heat soon warmed it against her skin. The dogs' leashes were around her neck again because the police didn't like dogs like Rusty's running around town with no leashes. Dogs like hers. She wanted to scoff in their face because they were better behaved than a damn chihuahua. 

Opening the door rather forcefully, Rusty let herself into the garage. She turned, holding the door open for her dogs and closed it after them. She heard the clinks of a chain and grunts as she took her hood off, walking past the van and the Honda she had stolen. 

I really should give that back. She thought.

Fender, smelling food, trotted over to the kitchen where David stood, probably making lunch. Frank, on the other hand, was doing pull-ups with a cement brick tied to his waist by a thick chain. 

He was shirtless, and his skin was glistening with a thin layer of sweat. Rusty couldn't help but glance at his toned body, although she had seen it a few times before - at camp, that is. She saved herself from blushing slightly by making a comment. 

"If you sweat, your dressing's gonna come off." She said to Frank as she walked past him, taking her coat off and throwing it at the metal frame again. She guessed it was now a habit.

Frank grunted as he did another pull-up. "You can just replace it, then."

"I'm not your nurse, poster-boy."

Frank grunted again, though Rusty worried that he was over-doing it. She then looked at the large brick, saying, "How are you gonna get down with that tied to your waist?"

Frank panted, then did yet another pull-up. "You worry too much, Rusty."

She put her hands on her hips, though she frowned as she watched Frank struggle. His face was beginning to become red as he managed to continue his work-out. She saw that the wound on his shoulder was beginning to bleed a little again. 

She sighed. "All right, Frank. Get down, now."

The man didn't listen to his friend. 

"Frank."

He strained again.

"Frank!" Rusty raised her voice, and Frank hung from the metal bar on the ceiling, panting as he looked at her. "You're bleeding. Let me fix you up."

Rusty's tone changed drastically to one of care, though Frank could tell she was tired. He dropped down and landed on his feet, the brick creating a loud noise, to which Rusty flinched lightly, as it made contact with the concrete ground. 

After taking the chain off, Frank then walked over to the small bed and sat on it as Rusty took another plaster. She took off his dirty one, and looked at the wound. "You're working yourself too hard, Frank." Rusty said.

She cleaned his rather unusual wound (which was inflicted by Gunner's arrow) and placed on the  clean dressing. Lexi sat in between Frank's legs, her tail wagging as she looked at him. Frank, being the animal lover that he is, gave the dog the attention she asked for, smiling a little as her tail banged against the small bedside table.

Later, while eating lunch, the three discussed their infiltration of Fort Bryon. They needed to pay a visit to one Colonel Morty Bennett. 

Eating some pasta, Rusty heard Frank talk about Agent Orange. She paused eating, but swallowed her nervousness with the pasta. She grabbed another two plates from the cupboards and placed an even amount of pasta on each. She walked over to where her dogs were standing with a plate in each hand.