Dangerous

Chapter Thirteen

A/N: As per usual, I do believe Frankie is getting too OOC but that's just cuz I hate everything about my writing so 

I passed out around four when I was in the middle of flying a plane, I think. Somewhere over Paleto Bay, so I'd nosedived right into Mount Chiliad. When the morning dog-barking woke me up around 6, Trevor was standing angrily outside the Paleto Bay hospital, insulting passersby -- turns out the usual morning dog barking was coming from the video game, though. I pulled out Trevor's phone, quick, and pressed Quick-Save, turning the game off after that.

I set the controller on the coffee table, next to the scattered remnants of a medical kit. That didn't phase me at all, but I jumped and swore when I saw Frank laying on the couch opposite of me.

The fact that his presence spooked me proved that I needed to re-sharpen both my senses and my reflexes.

I chose not to purposely wake him up as I went into the kitchen and poured food for my bajillion roommates -- and then proceeded to get trampled, basically, in the wave of fur that followed. Most could eat with one another, but there were at least five who requested, all the time, that I pour them a personal bowl.

I stooped and made sure to give each and every one of them a good scritch before headed to my room to grab clean clothes for a shower. There was dried blood underneath my fingernails, yet, and it wasn't my own blood. That may look a little, erm... wrong when I show up to work today. I can just see the conversation now;

'Mornin', Bekah. There's blood under your fingernails, what happened?'

'Oh. Nah, not my blood, it's fine.'

And then whomever I would be speaking with would deadpan and point to the door and say, 'Get out.' because everyone in that office is gung-ho for saving everyone's lives. It irritates the shit outta me.

I mean, seriously. People suck. The faster Matt and Foggy get that through their thick skulls, the faster I can start wanting to be around them more. They don't know I'm a... what I do most nights -- well, used to do. Until I'm better at walking, I can't go out fighting. The less they know, the better, but I stand by my opinions.

Clothing in hand, I went into the bathroom and closed both doors -- it connected to my room, and the hallway outside. I opened the second drawer down on the counter to set my clean clothes down on, and then slid open the top drawer to grab my toothbrush and toothpaste.

I'll brush my teeth in the shower if I damn well feel like it.

So yeah. You don't need to know the extent of my shower. It was just a normal shower, in and out in probably about a half hour, which, really, is a pretty quick shower for me. I put my toothbrush and toothpaste away, tossed most of my outfit on -- everything sans shirt. Yes I know I have company over but the man's already seen me basically ninety-percent naked anyway so what's the point.

I popped into my room for about four seconds to toss my dirty laundry on my hamper -- I really needed to do my laundry, so yeah, on my hamper and the pile of clothing overflowing from the top; whoops -- before headed back out into the kitchen. My kitchen, where four cats were still eating, a dog was slurping up water, coffee was brewing and a Frank was leaning against the counter with Groovy in his arms.

Groovy is one'a my "baby" cats and is seriously the prettiest cat I've ever laid eyes on. Bleached white paws, a dirty-white body, bright, baby blue eyes with a mostly-black face that was freckled through with white, brown, soft golds-- just... you'd have to see a picture of her to get what I mean. And she was so small, too. Seeing her small body, and immense beauty being held so softly by Frank was just... strange, really. Really, really strange, "Well, good morning."