( the thing is, frank doesn't get to choose who he is or isn't important to. it's few and far between when it comes to karen garnering any sort of interaction, let alone anything that hummed on the edge of intimate. she's learned better than to put a label on things, whatever it was that'd flourished between them wasn't in the bounds of the ordinary, but who was anyone to tell her where she could or couldn't gather warmth from? it's a futile effort, his attempts to paint himself a ghost, something no one could love, all rough knuckles and spat out blood. she'd never needed the soft. it'd never come home to her.

she didn't need it's company now.

she notes that grit to his jaw, how the skin beside his ear flutters in response. her gaze is steady where it resides: on him, eyes an overcast blue and that subtle hint of a tilt returning to her mouth once more. this is how it was between them, ever oscillating, a delicate balance. )

I have my ways. ( seeing as she had a bit of experience with another vigilante in particular who had a knack for throwing himself into the carnivorous belly of the city. )

I can't promise the same. ( having her name in rigid type frequenting headlines on top of interviewing a bruising array of potential clientele at the firm, she didn't always put herself into the best light. it wouldn't be the first time she'd been followed—tonight, though, they'd be wise to keep their distance. before he can question what exactly she means, she's digressing; they had many more hours of the night to go, and for one frank castle, karen's an open book. )

I'm not so sure my work here ever ends. ( briefly, she chews at the inner of her cheek. ) Speaking of following... you need a ride?