worlds collide.

Juliette was only twenty-five when it had happened. She had been working as a registered nurse in Hell’s Kitchen for two years now. She had seen many, many strange things along the way and had even more stories to go with them. Needless to say, when she got into her apartment at 3AM after a thirteen-hour shift, she did not expect to see a big, hulking man bleeding out on her couch. Her first instinct was to grab her pistol that was in the drawer of the side table next to the door. But the closer she looked at the man, the more she could see his eyes looking at her, lips mouthing help me.

Juliette’s eye flicked from the man and back to the pistol and then to the phone in her hands. Should she call the police? She should threaten him? What the hell did she do? This definitely was a story that was going to be going down in her books. But the more she looked at him, the more hurt she could see he was, and she needed to do something about it. He wasn’t going to be able to get much damage in if he tried anything, Juliette could see just how shallow his breathes were.

---

The blonde ended up having to stitch up three gashes to his abdomen, pull a small metal shard out of his shoulder, and clean up a whole hell of a lot of blood. Her sofa was damn near unsalvageable and there were muddy footprints all over her carpet. The nameless intruder lay half conscious on her couch as she stayed on the other side of the room, sipping at a glass of water. Once again, she eyed her phone, wondering if she should have phoned the police. If this guy looked this bad, she wondered if someone got away—or even ended up looking worse than he did. She wasn’t sure what type of trouble this man had gotten into, that military buzzed fade he sported made her thing that either a) he was military or b) some type of government official.

Soon enough the man was waking up, clutching at his head and turned to look to her. Juliette licked her bottom lip and shook her head, “You got a name, sir? Do I need to call the police or what? Because you broke into my apartment and by the looks of it someone attacked you! One of those issues needs to be addressed…”

Frank had an apartment on the other side of the city, away from the bunker. It was just in case shit went sour or he needed a place away from people. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even stepped foot in the apartment because his life was basically the bunker that David had called home. Just like clockwork, Frank paid the rent each month on the first. In cash and only in cash. The landlord was seedy at best and hadn't bothered to even get a name out of Frank. For that, he was completely thankful. It was a safe haven that Frank hoped to never have to use but it was there in case the need arose.

Shit. He couldn't remember the last time a job had gone this wrong, that quickly. Frank didn't have time to think about that, instead focused on taking down the men in front of him and before the last man even hit the ground, Frank was rushing for his car. He slid into the driver's door and sped off, already beginning to slip in and out of consciousness by the time he pulled up to his apartment. Normally he wouldn't be so careless and park in front of the building but Frank knew he wasn't in a good state. If he didn't get up to the apartment and start fixing himself soon, he was fucked.

---

Frank actually started to come to, his mental state far better than it had been even an hour ago. He let out a soft groan, blinking against the blinding light. Or what he called blinding, anyway. Squinting up at the ceiling, Frank turned his head just enough to spot an unfamiliar coffee table. Fuck. His adams apple slid down his throat in a single gulp before Juliette spoke and Frank swore, his heart dropped so ffar that it was likely beneath his feet.

"Your apartment?" Frank grunted, his brows pulling together as he turned to get a better look of the apartment around him. Nothing really looked familiar, his place was bare bones. It wasn't warm and welcoming, but simply a place for Frank to lay his head down if necessary. His head snapped toward Juliette when she mentioned the police, shaking his head swiftly. "No, no. No, don't call the cops. I swear to you, I thought I was in my apartment, you know. I wasn't in the best state, you know. And-and I..." Frank scoffed, shaking his head slowly. "I'm sorry about the couch, ma'am. I'll replace it," Frank muttered, gripping the edge of the cushion and the back of the couch, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position. "I'm sorry for the uh, trouble that I caused, you know. It won't... it won't happen again. Thank you, though. For being so accommodatin' but I'll be gettin' out of your hair now."

Juliette was taken aback when the man before her began to spazz out. Her nursing kicked in and she strode forward, laying a hand on his shoulder and pushing him back down. If he moved around too much, he was going to get sick or burst his stitches or even both. She was shaking her head as he began to resist as he continued talking, but she was sure he got the hint as she saw his eyes glaze over with pain.

“You aren’t going anywhere, sir.” Juliette chastised him, now standing above him with her arms crossed over her chest. “First off, I damn near performed surgery on your bloody ass, and you’re in no condition to be getting up and moving around right now. Secondly, why is it that I shouldn’t get the police involved?”

Juliette was looking at him wildly, frustrated with the stranger who was in front of her. She had just practically saved the man from bleeding out and here he was trying to run off and making her very suspicious of him. She looked at him closer and tried to figure out what his face would look like beneath the cuts and blood on his face. Her eyes narrowed at him and she chewed on her bottom lip. “Don’t you live three doors down in 27? This is 24…” Juliette tilted her head at him, trying to recall if she had ever heard his name before. She wasn’t sure that she had. She once had dropped a piece of her mail as they were both entering their apartments, he had been walking behind her, and he grabbed it to give to her. That was the only time she could ever recall being face to face with the man.

“I won’t call the police, I swear. Just-just sit there for a while, I’ll get you something to drink if you tell me your name?” Juliette proposed, looking at him a little softer now.

You didn't get to the point where Frank had in life without being able to think clearly, despite distractions. Whatever they were, you had to move past it to get a job done. And at this moment? His job was to get the hell away from Juliette because he had a sinking feeling that lingering here, it wasn't the best idea. She hadn't called the police yet but yet was the keyword here. There was nothing preventing her from doing so, or at least attempting to call them. Frank would stop her if it got to that point. He didn't want to hurt someone who had just helped him out but shit, Frank wasn't willing to be turned over to the police. Not when he still had a job to do.

"I just.. ran into the wrong guys at the wrong time. Ain't nothin' to go reporting to the police, ma'am," Frank answered, his voice short as he looked up to her. He was irritated that Juliette seemed to think she could tell him what to do but hell, even he realized that he probably wasn't really in the right state to argue with her.

Frank's body visibly relaxed when Juliette promised that she wouldn't call the police. He let out a sigh of relief, one that he hadn't even realized he was holding in. "Thank you," Frank breathed, glancing up to Juliette with a grateful smile. It was small but still, it was there and it was more than Frank Castle normally offered to anyone.

"Pete," Frank bit out, hesitating for a moment to even add his so-called last name. "Pete Castiglione," he answered finally, sitting up just enough that his shoulders were propped against the arm of the couch. It wasn't enough to aggravate his wound but now he could better see what was going on in the apartment. Even if Juliette was his only company, Frank was always observant, always aware of everything going on around him. You had to be when you were into his line of work, if you wanted to survive.

"What's yours? So I don't have to keep calling you ma'am," Frank said, chuckling softly. The action was cut short, morphing into a groan as his hand slid down to hold his side. "Fuck," he breathed, dropping his head back against the arm of the couch. "Unless you prefer ma'am."

Juliette eyed the man warily when he answered with his name, she wasn’t sure if she believed him or not, but it was all she had to go on at the moment. She nodded and went into her kitchen and grabbed two glasses and filled them with iced tea. She came back to the living room and held out a glass to him and sat next to him on the couch.

“Well, Pete. You can call me Juliette. Or Julie. Or you can keep callin’ me ma’am, your choice.” She smirked as she raised the glass to her lips. She studied the man, Pete or whatever his name was, and decided that maybe she could trust him. He was a fairly handsome man under all the blood and cuts. From what she knew he was a quiet tenant, never really caused any uproars and kept to himself most of the time. Juliette was always too trusting of people, but for some reason, she just had a gut feeling that she could trust Pete. So she was rolling with it.

“Ya know,” Juliette started as she leaned forward to set her glass on the coffee table. “You’re pretty lucky you ended up in the apartment of a RN tonight or else you would have bled out. Or someone woulda called the cops.” Juliette smirked at him and tilted her head as she teased at him, trying to lighten the mood. Something about this guy intrigued her and she wanted to know more, but she wasn’t going to push the issue just yet. “Consider yourself lucky tonight, Mr. Castiglione. Someone was definitely watching out for you and puttin’ this one in the cards for you.”

Juliette leaned into her couch and finally kicked her shoes off. She brought her feet up and tucked them under her. “You probably are gonna need someone to change those bandages for you tomorrow. I can do it for you if you want, as long as you tell me how you got a metal shard in your shoulder.”

"Julie," Frank mused, tasting the name on his lips. He tilted his head to the side, a little grin growing on his features as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "I like that... Julie," he tested the name again. He decided to ignore her little jab, thinking that it was quite innocent. At least it was compared to anything else that could have been thrown his way.

Frank's mouth formed an 'o' shape when Juliette mentioned that she was a registered nurse. His own eyes lifted to the ceiling and he said a silent thank you to the only person looking out for him. It wasn't necessarily that Frank believed in God because after so much time at war and literally playing God, Frank wasn't so sure the holy being existed. Clearing his throat, Frank chuckled at the brief mention of the cops. "Guess I'm lucky then, hm? Lucky to have landed in your apartment, lucky that you got home when you did... dunno how much longer I would have made it if you were out too much longer." Truth be told, Frank had been laying on Juliette's couch for close to two hours by the time she had gotten home.

His eyes narrowed, his face hardening as Juliette pressed for more information on what had happened to him. "Doesn't matter, Julie. It's in the past... it's over with," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. He'd killed the bastards, they would never cause any more harm ever again. There was nothing more to talk about. "Best left there, yeah?"

Frank cleared his throat, shaking his head slowly. "I can change it. Had worse, darlin'. This sucks and I'm not going to deny it but I've also had worse so I'm not complainin' either," Frank muttered, running a hand through his nearly nonexistent hair. "Besides. I don't like your bargain," Frank teased softly. "Maybe if you came up with a better barter, I'd go for that. What d'ya say?"

There was something about the way that man had said her name, something that sent a shiver down Juliette’s spine. She wasn’t sure if it was good or bad or if her AC had just kicked on. But she smiled as he said her name, a small flush spreading across her cheeks. Why was she being like this? Juliette shook her head and pushed it away. When Pete had said that he wasn’t sure he would have lasted much longer in her apartment, she wondered how long he had even been in there. And she wondered how in the hell the man had even gotten in with out it being noticeable. At this point, Juliette couldn’t even remember if she had unlocked her door when she came in, she was fucking exhausted.

Juliette noticed how tense Pete got when he told her to forget about what had happened. She wanted to know what the hell this guy was hiding. For all she knew, he could have killed somebody that night—Jesus, she could be sitting next to a murderer! But would she feel so comfortable sitting next to a man who had claimed the lives of others? Juliette chalked it up to a possible gang run in. Yeah, that was probably it. Juliette had known plenty of people who were in gangs while she had lived in Hell’s Kitchen. Not all of them were terrible people.

Juliette laughed softly, more of a giggle but not quiet. She didn’t even know this man, she couldn’t bargain with him. “Well I don’t know what you like… So I can’t offer you a fair trade, Pete.” She looked at the man, he was in good shape. She could offer him a meal or something… But why was she even trying to and considering having him back in her home? There was just something there. “I think you’re interesting, Pete Castiglione.” She said truthfully. “You should come by some time this week for dinner and treat me to some more of your mysterious ways. You seem like you got some good stories.”

Frank let out a dry laugh as he shook his head, looking up to Juliette through his eyelashes. "Maybe that's a good thing then, Julie. You know, I was bleedin' out on ya couch. Maybe I'm not as good as you think," he pointed out dryly, tilting his head slightly. The action jarred the muscles on his shoulder but he gave no indication of that. Giving into pain, it was a weakness that Frank couldn't afford. Even in front of seemingly someone who was friendly, at the very least.

"Interestin' is probably the nicest goddamned thing I've ever been called, darlin'," Frank muttered, smirking at the thought. Interesting could always go one of two ways but he didn't think Juliette meant it in a bad way. Frank fell silent, seemingly considering Juliette's offer. It wasn't a good thing for Frank to ever appear someone more than once but how bad could it be? As far as anyone would be aware, he was simply visiting a neighbour as Pete Castiglione, not as Frank Castle. How much could it hurt? Frank rolled his eyes at the thought, he knew first hand just how much it could hurt someone if they got too close to him. He had lost his wife and kids for fuck's sake - because he had pissed off the wrong people, people who had no moral compass at all.

"Maybe... Maybe I'll come by but I don't got no stories worth tellin' you, Julie. I tell you my stories, I'd have ta kill you," Frank said, letting out a laugh to hopefully ease the delivery of the threat. He hoped Juliette would think he was kidding but in all reality, he wasn't. Frank wouldn't directly kill her but the people he was up against, they would have no qualms about offing yet another woman in his life. Gritting his teeth, Frank pushed to his feet. "But I should get goin'. I'll see about stopping in, alright? Til then, you keep your head down and yourself out of trouble, you hear me?"

Over the course of the next few days, it seemed as though Pete had up and disappeared. Juliette didn’t see him again the following day, although she had worked so it was possible she might have missed him. But the two days after that were her days off and she didn’t even hear anyone walk past her apartment. Maybe it was for the best that she didn’t encounter the strange man who broke into her apartment and bled all over her furniture. Which, by the way, took Juliette at least four hours to get his blood cleaned up out of her living room.

Because Juliette had worked 3 days worth of 12 hour shifts, she was given three off. So on the third day, she decided to go and do some grocery shopping. She picked up the basics and some necessities, but also decided she was going to treat herself to some snacks and a couple bottles of wine before her next shift in the ER.

Juliette had successfully gotten everything out of her car, plastic bags being looped over her arms and causing her to waddle up the stairs, but she wasn’t quite sure how she was going to get her door open. Her keys were in her purse, and when she got to her front door, she realized she had trapped herself with the grocery bags to where she couldn’t slide her arm out. In a weak and feeble attempt, Juliette kicked at her front door, grunting when it wouldn’t open.

“FUCK!” She huffed to no one but herself.

As intriguing as their little encounter had been a few days ago, Frank had no intent on going back to Juliette's apartment. It wasn't going to be good if he did, the people he allowed to get close to him usually ended up dead or... or wishing they were. He didn't want to put that on Juliette's shoulders, it wouldn't be fair to her. She was innocent as far as Frank Castle knew and he wasn't a fan of innocent blood being on his hands, not unless it was necessary.

Frank knew discipline, knew the value of it through and through and yet, still, he found himself wondering just how bad it would be if he ran into Juliette. What was the worst thing that was going to happen if he ate supper with her? Sure, she had been asking questions and would likely ask more but that didn't mean a Goddamned thing, nothing was forcing him to tell her anything. Besides, as far as Julie knew, his name was Pete Castiglione. Not Frank Castle.

Just like he always did, Frank had parked several blocks over and started the trek through the alleyways to his apartment. It was easier to remain unseen, if he hadn't known that before, Micro had done a good damn job at drilling that into his skull. He smirked as he rounded the corner, coming face to face with one Juliette trying helplessly to kick the door open. "Ma'am," Frank caused, humor evident in his voice. He smirked, tilting his head to the side as he stepped forward enough to pull the door open for her. "THere you go, darlin'," Frank teased softly as he looked toward Julie. "Goin' to make supper for us, hm?" Frank teased, raising an eyebrow.

Juliette breathed and audible sigh of relief when she saw that Pete had rounded the corner. But she playfully narrowed her eyes at him when he laughed at her. She was sure she looked a state, pretty crazy at that, trying to kick open a closed door. “Thank you kindly, sir.” She laughed as she stepped foot into her apartment. “Well, come in!” She pressed when she saw him continued to stand in the door way. She watched as he pulled the door shut behind him and before he could refuse, she was shoving a couple of grocery bags into his arms to lighten her load.

“Come put those in the kitchen,” She smiled sweetly at him and rounded the corner to her kitchen. She dropped the bags that were in her arms onto the counter, motioning for him to do the same. “If you’re nice, I’ll make you dinner.” She was referring to his earlier statement. “I might even give you a glass of good wine that I bought.”

Juliette smirked at him as she began to dig through the bags until she found the bottle. She pulled it out and held it up like a prized possession, “And by good wine, I mean this shit isn’t in a box, which is like totally splurging on my end.”

Juliette hoped that she wasn’t being to pushy with him, she had often been told that she could come across as a little bossy or abrasive, but it was all in good nature. It just was the way the girl was. Her mother had been the same way, always pushing and prodding and bending people to get them to sway the way she wanted them too. Juliette scrounged through her counters to find the opener. She looked up at Pete through her lashes, “Wanna open this for me? I’m no good using these cork-screw things. Hence why I normally buy wine out of a box.”

Frank wasn't so sure that this was a good idea, he was still battling with the concept in his mind as he continued to stand in the doorway of Juliette's apartment. He was quiet as she moved about, frowning slightly as she urged him inside. A bit reluctantly, Frank stepped forward and pressed the door shut. He locked it, on instinct alone, before turning back to Juliette. A locked door had always provided him even just a few more seconds to prepare before any intruder would barge inside.

Clearing his throat, Frank couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as Juliette shoved bags into his arms. He took them without an argument, following after her wordlessly. He set them down beside where Juliette had placed her bags down, moving about to begin putting away her groceries. He had no clue where anything belonged so it was a lot of grabbing one item out of the bags and shifting through the cabinets before he found its rightful place.

Frank looked up to her, finding that the little smirk on her face was enough to make his heart skip a beat. He swallowed against the now unfamiliar feeling, raising an eyebrow at the bottle that she produced. His face scrunched a bit at the prospect of boxed wine. He was more of a hard liquor sort of guy but if he had to drink wine, he would but it was certainly never the boxed variety.

Straightening up, Frank slid around the counter before he was standing in front of Juliette. "Here, lemme show you, ma'am," Frank murmured, twisting so that he was now standing behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding the bottle of wine firmly while he reached with his free hand to place it over hers that held the corkscrew. "Just let this," he murmured, screwing the corkscrew into the cork up to the proper point. "Then you just... pull like so," he said, gripping her hand gently and beginning to pull the cork free from the bottle.

Frank stepped backward almost immediately, unable to hide his little smirk. "You know. you can also use a lighter, if you can't figure out the complex corkscrew. A lighter, all you ever have to do is flick it," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I'll show you that method next time... assuming we do have dinner together again."

Why Juliette loved seeing that man in her kitchen, a man she had only caught glimpses of before and a man who entered her apartment and bled all over her shit, she didn’t quite know. There was something about Pete that was drawing her to him. She wanted to figure him out, know what made him tick. She loved seeing that silly little smirk on his ever brooding face. She heard him laugh and she swore she about melted. He was mindful, seemed like he was always watching—and for some reason it brought comfort to her, instead of pushing her far, far away.

Juliette stilled as he maneuvered around her, her back flush against his chest. She could smell him, lightly spritzed in a cologne and the smell of his detergent, as his arms wrapped around her frame. She bit her lip, thankful he was behind her, so he couldn’t see her face flush, as his large hands wrapped around hers. It was almost as if he was teaching a toddler one of the simplest tasks, but it was so much more than that. Intimate almost. She finally turned to him when he stepped away, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t see her embarrassment (or longing) for what had just happened. But she raised her eyebrow as he began to tease her.

“Didn’t I just get through telling you I’m a cheap girl who buys boxed wine. I never have to use these things!” She laughed and raised the bottle to him, “Thank you though. Now we can enjoy it.” She turned to her cupboard, standing on her tiptoes as she pulled out two wine glasses. As he mentioned having dinner again, she found herself biting down on her lip once more, a habit that was seeming to develop and unfold only in his presence.

“We can have dinner again,” She nodded as she handed him his glass and took a sip from her own, “But you have to tell me what you like. I’m cooking pasta tonight, so hopefully you like that.”

"Boxed wine ain't worth drinkin', darlin'. I don't mean ta be an asshole but..." Frank trailed off, letting out a soft laugh as he gave a shake of his head. "But if I ever see ya carryin' a box of wine, I'm gonna throw it out. Hell, I'll replace it with a good bottle of wine if ya want but don't ever let me catch ya drinkin' that shit again," Frank joked with her, a small smirk settling on his features as he moved to take a seat at the dining room table. He sat, half turned away from the table so that he couch watch Juliette as she began to cook their meal.

A sad sort of smile settled on Frank's features as he thought about all the wonderful pasta that he had eaten in the past. Everyone from his ailing mother to his wife had made it for him, knowing it was the sure fire way to get to Frank's heart. He was just like any other man, his heart was actually in his stomach and if you managed to cook him a good meal, Frank was as good as done for. He could only hope that Juliette's cooking wasn't up to par.

"Pasta's alright, sweetheart. Whatever you want to cook, I'll eat. Hell, I'll be your damn guinea pig if you want," Frank offered with a shrug of his shoulders. "Don't get to eat so much home cooked stuff anymore so I'll take what I can get.. Was in the Marines for a bit so fuckin' anything is better than those fuckin' MREs they force down our throats."

Frank took a sip of his wine, letting out a relaxed sigh as he leaned against the chair he was in. "So, Julie. What do yyou do?" Frank was realizing that he knew close to nothing about Juliette. maybe it was better kept that way.

“Well, sir, if that’s your way of offering to buy me wine so I don’t have to, I’ll take you up on that.” Juliette smirked at him as she moved about the kitchen, getting water to boil and starting on her sauce. “It’s gonna be just a minute, cause one thing I don’t take out of a box is my meals. This shit is home made. My grandma gave me the recipe—well, she actually gave me most of my recipes. So, you had better like it.” She gave him a playful glare.

Juliette listened to him talk about his time in the Marines and the shit food they had to eat. “Daddy was in the Marines for twelve years before he got out and went to the Police Academy. He used to make us eat MRE’s when we would complain about ‘not liking’ something.” Juliette laughed at the fond memory. She missed her family, she missed them terribly… But it wasn’t like she was getting them back. Hell, Pete didn’t need to know about any of that, so she shoved the memory away as soon as it came.

Juliette nodded at his question, a smile appearing on her face. “I am an emergency room nurse,” She said proudly. “Almost six years of school and hundreds of thousands of dollars in student loan debt—but I can save your damn life so it’s all worth it. Always wanted to be a nurse, like my grandma, and here I am.” Juliette looked over and gave him a small grin. “Which is why you didn’t bleed to death in my living room.” She tossed him a playful wink as she started to get the pasta in the water. “What about you, mystery man? What do you do?”

Frank had a newfound respect for Juliette when she mentioned that her father had been in the Marines. That was just another reason for Frank to feel connected to her, because Juliette would understand the little military nuances that he had, the ones that had been drilled into his skull so much so that he couldn't shake them. He couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, nodding his head at her short story. "Sounds like one helluva man. I can't say I don't agree with what he did, those things are fuckin' brutal. Bet it did the trick pretty damn quick, too, huh?"

Stiffening when the question was turned around on him, Frank shook his head. He was now avoiding looking at her, opting to nurse his glass of wine instead of acknowledging Juliette. Though he knew he needed to eventually.

"Construction," Frank bit out, giving a shrug of his shoulders. "Hard work but I'm used to it and it's easy. Just put my head down, get my shit down, then I can ignore all the other bullshit at the worksite," he said. It was better to continue his little lie with Juliette than to tell her the truth. He knew that if he did, it would ultimately put her in danger and he didn't want to put her in that position. Not when she had no damn clue what she'd be getting herself into.

Juliette smiled softly as she recalled the fond memory of her father. “Well, you see, my siblings and I were kind of brats. Mom would spend all afternoon cooking something and then we would all sit down to eat. The three of us kids would bitch and complain that we didn’t want to eat the meatloaf or whatever it was and that we would rather go to McDonald’s. So dad pulled out these MRE’s and told us it was the military’s version of fast food.” Juliette couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past her lips. “Needless to say, we never did that shit again.”

Juliette could feel the shift in the air, watching as Pete’s eyes darted away from her when she asked what he did. Little did he know, the blonde girl was pretty good at reading people and situations. She could tell he didn’t want to answer the question; it seemed as though he was trying to make something up. But Juliette wasn’t going to call the man out on it. Hell, she hardly knew him. Now wasn’t the time to be calling someone out on their shit so blatantly.

Juliette smirked and raised a brow at the man as she listened to his answer. “Mhmm,” She hummed, hoping that he wouldn’t realize she didn’t believe the shit that was coming out of his mouth. But it wasn’t up to her to question. If he didn’t want to tell her what he really did, or used to do, that was his prerogative. Juliette could tell that Pete was a quite reserved man, she could tell he didn’t let a lot of people in. He had to be hoarding a shitload of baggage that never got discussed. That was one of the things that drew Juliette to him. He was like a puzzle that she wanted to piece together, she wanted to see everything—for what reason? She had no clue. Juliette cleared her throat and took another long sip of her wine. “What do you like to do for fun?”

Frank didn't catch himself laughing very often. When you ran on three or four hours sleep at the most for years on end, you became a sort of machine. That exact thing had happened to Frank, except he had a burning rage fueling him day in and day out. Some people high up thought it appropriate to take what was his, to kill him, because of what he had known. Because he had shot when Agent Orange pointed, instead of questioning things. He had followed orders and in the end, that had gotten his family killed. But Frank laughed as Juliette relayed the story about her father making them eat MREs.

"Your father sounds like my sort of man," Frank relented, nodding his head as a little grin settled on his features. "Sounds like ya wizened up after that," he said, his face scrunching a bit at the thought of the military's meals. Some were excellent but the ready to eats meals were subpar at best, more often that not.

"Julie." Frank liked the way that the young girl's name rolled off of his tongue. He would have to say it more often. He smirked to himself, glancing down to his feet before back up to Juliette. "Darlin', I wake up in the mornin'. I shower and then I go to work. I build stuff, I tear shit down. Then I come home, shower, 'nd eat. Then I go to sleep," Frank answered simply. That was a simple explanation compared to the stone cold truth. But telling her would only bring her in a world that she had no place being in; one that would only ultimately lead to her death. "I don't got time for no... hobbies, if you will. I can enjoy myself when I'm old and crippled. Til then..." Frank trailed off, shrugging. Ha. As if Frank Castle would end make it to what some would consider 'old'.

"Why don't you tell me why the hell you're living in a shithole apartment like this, huh?" Frank asked, raising an eyebrow. He grinned haphazardly as he leaned against the table he sat at. "Better places out there, y'know."

The sound of Pete’s laughed made a small blush creep across Juliette’s skin. And then he was saying her name and her heart was racing, blood buzzing through her veins. She looked at the man, a permanent smirk etched onto her lips. There was something beneath that exterior that Juliette wanted to get to. She had a feeling that the man had been up to no good. Or at the very least he was involved in many different illegal activities—but not everyone that had done those sorts of things were bad people. Juliette knew she had a habit of trusting people too easily, letting people in far too quickly. But there was something she couldn’t shake, she just had a feeling that Pete was a man that could be trusted. She might regret it later but having him sat next to her at the time felt right.

“He was a great man, actually.” Juliette sighed, a sad smile replacing her smirk. She got up to move into the kitchen to take the pasta out of the boiling water. She listened to Pete speak about his day to day activities and couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Everyone has something they like to do, Castiglione. Everyone. Even if they ain’t got time to do it.”

“Well….” Juliette trailed off as she set to work making their plates. “Kind of hard to get somewhere nice when you are hundreds of thousands of dollars deep into student loan debt and have only been a practicing nurse for a few years.” Juliette finished making the plates and skillfully grabbed the silverware as she cradled the two plates. Thank God she had once been a waitress. She waltzed back to the dining table and spoke as she set the plates down, “This is the only place I could comfortable afford while I work on repaying my student load debt.”