(1942-06-06) Feeding Frank
Feeding Frank
Summary: All drama aside, Lillie honors a commitment to check in on Frank on occasion and give him a proper meal.
Date: 1942-06-06
Related: A couple of hours after this log. Also related to Death and Curses
Players:
frank..lucietta..

The Gallows, Higsi
Thu Jun 08, 1942


Toward the back is the requisite wooden bar with a mirror on the wall behind it that has been polished to a nice shine. A line of cushioned bar stools sit in front of the bar just waiting to be used. Tables and chairs dot the rest of the bar.

Weather:
It is spring. The weather is warm and overcast.


<FS3> Lillie rolls Empath: Great Success.

If there's one thing that Lillie does well, it's work. And when the work is done for the day and she's left wanting for something else to tackle.. it's cooking. Not long after she had bid Clifton adieu with the completion of the fence, the Empath retired to the house for while and try to relax. She fell asleep in the den on the couch and, about a half hour later, that power nap did something. Maybe it was the loneliness, or the stress… but upon lifting her head from the pillow the sense was there. Not subtle, not a fleeting thing…. no; all-encompassing, powerful, insistent. Why? Why?!

One good thing about Lillie being stressed and trying to escape the sense, she's productive. A few hours in the kitchen produced her very favorite, very cheap and very delicious comfort food. With… nobody to share it with. She wasn't about to eat most of it herself, because she prides herself on her figure! So while the sense burrowed it's way into every corner, nook and crannie of the house Lillie wrapped up her spoils and left home on her bicycle.

The Empath's trajectory ended up taking her toward the Gallows at roundabouts six in the evening or so. This may or may not have been a Good Idea. Because the moment the lissome young lass traipses into the dive bar, her sense decides to reach out and say 'hi how ya doin'' to as many patrons as possible. It doesn't help that the recent happenings here with that poor hobo are still rife in peoples' memories. Holding her parcel, Lillie takes a few deep breaths and scans the bar for a certain bearded curmudgeon.

Frank is there, curmudgeoning away at a local as he wipes down the bar. "It's not anything to worry about, Lester. It wasn't a catchable disease." He's repeated this about a million times, "If it was I'd be dead. Now shut up and drink your drink already!" He's annoyed, but not really angry about it. He turns to see who entered and there's a flare of anticipation. He'd never show it, but Lillie's food's been the best he's eaten in a long time. He could get used to real food. "Everything alright, Lillie?" He moves closer to an empty spot on the bar for her to fill.

Focus, Lillie. People, in asking poor Frank repeatedly about what happened to the bum and if it was contagious, are whipping the Empath's nerves up into a froth with what she's fielding. She stands there, just a few steps into the bar, trying to level herself out. Lester's anxiety washes over her but of all things, the Irish woman feels bad for the hobo! Really! She's the one who has, on occasion, been donating clothes directly to the transients who pass through Higsi so to consider that one may very well have died a terrible, frightening death…

Emotions brewing in patrons, with the resulting paranoia: but what if it's contagious, what if I catch it? My skin feels itchy, this mole looks weird, is this a normal pimple? What's this black thing in my mouth?! Oh it's just food in my teeth. But oh what happened-

Focus, Lillie. Filter it. She can hear Frank and see him and she places every single bit of focus that she can upon him. Knowing what Lillie is, perhaps he will understand why her stare is latching onto him so desperately as she pads toward him. As per usual, she is dressed prettily.. too lady-like for a place like this. What's in her arms smells absolutely divine. "Hallo Frank.. I'm alright. It's strong today, is all." She remarks.. maybe he'll pick up on what she's putting down. Stepping up to the bar she slides the paper-wrapped dish toward him, it's still warm. "Shepherd's pie. Made it about two hours ago. I did not forget you."

Frank's gaze narrows, since he knows, he can tell something is up with the woman. Well, he knows she gets visions, not that she's an empath. He doesn't quite know what she means, but nods, not asking, "Need to go int eh back then?" Maybe she's got something she needs to tell him. She gets a small huff, bit there's that touch of amusement and happy to it when the scent of the food hits his nose. "Want a beer?" He can't keep giving out whacky, but beers a little cheaper. The man is already pouring himself one anyway. One can't eat shepherd's pie without something to drink.

She'll just drink in Frank's contentment at receiving the good food. Seeing as how she hasn't been working yet this week (not until tomorrow), and quite frankly elected to avoid town for awhile… this ain't diner food. Homemade is always best anyway, and Lillie is especially good at those hearty dishes that stick to the ribs. If she can give this guilt-ridden old boy something to enjoy a couple of times a week, it makes everything worth it. Especially because Frank took the trouble to add even more protection to her little house. Her lips curl up into a smile as the older man accepts the fare and offers a beer, to which Lillie nods her head once. "Sure. That would help." She concedes… and it would.

"I should be okay… I need to get used to this, coping with it." She admits, remembering that she hasn't outed her empathy to Frank yet but it can really be interchangeable with the visions. Settling herself upon a stool, Lillie leans in and tilts her head. "Anymore clue on what that was about, with the transient?" She asks gently, brow furrowed.

Two beers are poured then, one given to Lillie before Frank slides the food closer to him. He doesn't care, the reaction of the patrons or their jealousy, he's eating now. He watches her though as he unwraps the food, "You want me to put feelers out to see if anyone knows how to cope with it?" He takes a bite, chewing slowly until she settles and asks her question. A slow head shake, "Not sure yet. Just don't pick up things that aren't yours." That sounds…difficult. "It wasn't a disease."

Unwrapped, the full effect of the meaty dish — it's scent — is realized. This is literally about 75% of the casserole dish that Lillie pulled out of the oven, having sampled enough of it to make sure it's good (actually delicious but she's a humble cook~) before packing it up. Unless Frank is REALLY hungry, he will have leftovers for the next day. Lillie watches him prepare to tuck in, despite the glances they're getting, with her lips curled up at their corners shyly. It would be good for Frank to eat heartily, keep his strength up.

"If it's no trouble, if you have the connections. But don't trouble yourself too much.. I find if I rest well, and keep… apart.. from stress, it's easier to manage." Yeah, like that's been happening. Regarding Frank's answer to her question, Lillie tilts her head and nurses the beer. Liking it, as she is not hoity-toity, she takes another gulp.. she's Irish afterall.

Making sure nobody is paying them much mind, Lillie leans in as if to smell the shepherd's pie but really, she asks in a whisper. "Cursed?"

And eat he does, even as she talks. He won't eat all of it, but he definitely eats over half. "I'll see what I can find out." He nods, he could have told her that, just by what he's observed of her. She's not as clever as she thinks. Or maybe he's just that observant. He takes a deep breath, but nods, "That's my guess for now."

A bit of column A, a bit of column B. Lillie's mind is crazy and addled over this emotional stuff and Frank? Well.. Frank has Seen Things. Certainly wasn't born yesterday. To certain people the Empath can be an open book, just look at her eyes. She watches Frank eat for a time, enjoying his pleasure as it tempers the occasional swell of what's happening around her. A couple of patrons are speculating further on what happened, seated close to where the hobo went down onto the ground. Their emotions natter away at Lillie and her brow knits into that familiar expression of restraint. The gooseflesh can practically be seen arising on her bare forearms and she sets her drink down to rub at the skin swiftly.

Focus, focus on Frank.

"This probably isn't the place to ask more questions. I have some, but…" Maybe she shouldn't take anything else on..

Frank grunts, mouth around the fork, "We'll talk later." He can't really talk much either, not with people around.

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