paged | ❢ open rp ❢

[ New semester, new schedule to get used to. Clean slate in a way. No boyfriend now, just one more year and she would be heading to the Big City itself. Yet one thing never changed: she always enjoyed meeting up with her friends on the grass, sitting in a circle to either study, eat, or just talk shit about their new syllabuses.

But this time, she keeps hearing someone... singing? Or trying to.

Eventually, it gets to be too much and while her friends are content to snicker about it, Karen has always been the firey one in the group to go speak her mind. So up she gets and off she goes. Her friends try to call her back but she strides right over to the guy under the tree, strumming his guitar, playing the part of a hipster pretty damn well. She crosses her arms when she gets in front of him, clearing her throat before he can start singing again. ]

What's it going to take to make you stop torturing that guitar?

[His sense of rhythm and chords are so much stronger than his singing skills. The music teacher was adamant that he has to fake it until he makes it. Making it though? That was never on the table for Frank. He just liked music. And it wasn't his fault that the Boss had a higher range than him.

The weather was fine. Sun shining on through the leaves above. It's not until someone is blocking the rays that he looks up, backlit and haloed.]

I dunno.... a date?

[Just what you say to all the girls. He smirks and squints, Can't strum his guitar with one hand so he cups a hand over his eyes to look up.]

[ She stares down at him for a moment, a wider smile spreading on her face before she laughs, genuinely amused by him. Normally, she wouldn't like guys doing that kind of thing with her. But there was something oddly earnest about him. ]

Depends. Are you going to sing during it?

No karaoke then?

[There's an overly disappointed looking expression. He recovers quickly with a grin.]

I can pass up another number if it's... really offensive. I play better than I sing. But uh, everybody's a critic.

[Case in point.]

[ She laughs again, nodding, shrugging her shoulders, ]

When you sing out in public like this, you leave yourself open to it.

[ But she gestures to the guitar. ]

Why not give me a demonstration of your playing to prove me wrong?

And me without my over-turned hat.

[For tips. Or approval. He licks his lips and picks up his guitar in a playable position.]

Any requests there?

[Otherwise he's gonna play whatever his heart desires. And right now it's Pretty Woman.]

[ She shakes her head, ]

Whatever you want.

[ Her expression was now something along the lines of "impress me". ]

[Okay then. He's gonna go for something a little more challenging than Pretty Woman. Well then, hows about some Lindsey Buckingham. Perfect? No. But fluid and obviously practiced. His fingernail picking method is better when he has more of fingernails.

He can't help himself because the music itself begs for some space to be filled. Looking out for love, big, big love. Comes out.]

[ She grins at the playing and the small bit of sing that slips out, trying to ignore the warmth rising in her cheeks. But it's damn good, his playing. She gives a genuine applause at the end of it. It's far better than anything she could've managed. ]

You're right. You do play better.

[Really is best to play the whole way through, though because he knows it well enough he can spare a look to his one and only audience member. Though he is getting a few other heads turning. Not that Frank pays them any mind. Her applause is just what he was shooting for.]

At least practice can ensure success there. How about you? You play?

[ She shakes her head, able to ignore everyone else around them, including her friends who were most likely back over on the other side of the grounds, clucking like hens at each other. ]

No. Well, not music. Just basketball.

[Karen speaking her mind to the menfolk is not anything new. Though usually she stomps off by now. This one has to be special. Frank still has his eyes on her.]

Basketball. Huh. You're a competitive type.

[ She nods, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear, ]

You could say that, yeah.

[ She's also pretty 'ride or die'. ]

[Pretty, mouthy. Be still his beating heart. Frank sets his guitar against the tree and comes to stand. He's a good head or so above her.]

Frank Castle.

[Complete with offering his hand for a polite greeting.]

[ She decides then and there he has a cute smile. ]

Karen Page.

[ She takes the offered hand and shakes it. ]

Basketball, music critic... anything else worth noting, Karen?

[Solid handshake to go with that smile and what do you know they're also holding hands. See? It's a ploy.]

Favorite food?

[ She gives another laugh at that, ]

I like a good lasagna.

[Oooh he hit the jackpot here.]

That so? I think I know a place or three that have some delicious lasagna that's not home cooking. When are you free, Karen?

[ Her brows go up at that, ]

You're serious about the date?

[Brown eyes bat at her, undaunted at all.]

Yes. After all, you asked what it would take. I kept up my end of the bargain.

[He's waiting, Karen with baited breath.]

[ This guy...

But he's not wrong. She turns it over in her mind for a moment, looking back over at her friends (ignoring them waving at her) before she looks back to Frank and nods, ]

Alright. Tomorrow night. Seven-ish? I'll meet you back here.

[Hey lady, you picked him. Little do you know you picked a son of a gun that's not gonna let this off easy. He looks beyond at her friends and gives them a little wave even though Karen won't. Never hurts to be nice to a girl's friends.]

Tomorrow at seven it is. Bring your appetite. I'll leave the guitar.

[ She has no idea what she's gotten herself into. That's a sentiment that stays with her even as she lets go of his hand and walks back over to her friends, tossing over her shoulder, ]

Try not mangle any more songs, Mr. Castle.

[It's a date. Just a date. First one he's made this week that doesn't involve drills of any kind. That's why he's smiling so wide.]

At least not within earshot.

[For now at least. Frank lets her on her way. That's how it's done before phones were all the rage. And he doesn't linger all that long. Don't want to be a creep or something. He's got a class to get to and books to hit. And a mile or two to run, all minimizing the hours leading up until their date.]

[ Just a date. Something she's been on several times with all kinds of guys. Though few had a smile as cute as Frank's. She keeps thinking about it as she heads to her next set of classes, back to the apartment she's sharing with two other people.

She tries to focus on her work but, every once in a while, her mind drifts back to him and how he looked under that tree. The feel of his callused hand around hers.

She ends up heading back to the same tree nearly a half hour earlier, bringing a book with her. She doesn't want to seem too eager. But she also would rather be early than late. ]

in another life | for endlesswar

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject