Frank never locks his door because: of course he doesn't. It's not like there are keys in this godforsaken place and what if someone needed something from him? It's a harkening back to his time as mayor more than anything else, no one's ever taken him up on his help here in any big way. Which is fine, it gives him more time to take care of his ever-growing pack of animals and of course, Kamala. By some miracle, he's even managed to get Jessica to move in temporarily while the weather is bad.
Before he can even make it out of the kitchen to see who it is (he honestly assumes Kamala in from the blizzard and doesn't rush for that reason), the dogs are swarming Chloe excitedly. At the front of the pack is a small but intensely friendly creature, followed closely by a lanky gray pitbull with a huge block head that he nudges into her side and the clear leader: a female bloodhound who brays to let Frank know it's a "stranger." Aretha still wants in on the love, almost knocking Chloe clean over as she tries to get her boots off.
Frank makes his way out of the kitchen unhurriedly, scratching behind the cat's ears as he makes his way past the couch she's draped over the whole top of. It's warm and cozy in here, electric lights in every room when every other house on the street is lit by candles alone. He isn't wearing shoes, the floorboards warmed by the stove in the cellar so that it's actually warmer without his boots indoors, dressed in an oversized hoodie and jeans only. His sleeves are rolled up so that she can see the bracelet he always wore in Reims: the handwoven leather a sharp contrast to the bright teal communicator on his opposite. There's also a small wooden necklace on a cord around his neck, the detail too far for her to see at a distance but there's a lightning bolt carved into the topside. Most notably of all is the rather impressive beard he's grown in the time between last seeing her, and it's apparent he hasn't cut his hair once either.
"How'd you make out, sweethear—" That is not Kamala, he registers, eyes widening as they meet Chloe's across the small entrance to the house. He's become used to, accustomed really, no one he recognizes remembering him. Jessica, Kamala and himself had all arrived in the Summer close together, but they're the only ones who remember Reims and everything that happened there. He generally accepts it as a mercy, no one should have to keep the memories of that place even if it meant they forgot everything they did for one another to survive. This place is nothing like that, people don't come together until it's too late, generally, though a few newcomers are trying to change that. Frank's just glad for anyone to do it but him.
There's a voice screaming that she won't remember, that he's going to ruin his second chance to get to know her, but he's just so relieved, closing the distance between them in two short strides and pushing dogs away so he can rest a heavy hand on her shoulder. And then, if she'll allow it, Frank pulls her in for a tight hug. There are already tears in his eyes before she's even reacted.
snowblind
Before he can even make it out of the kitchen to see who it is (he honestly assumes Kamala in from the blizzard and doesn't rush for that reason), the dogs are swarming Chloe excitedly. At the front of the pack is a small but intensely friendly creature, followed closely by a lanky gray pitbull with a huge block head that he nudges into her side and the clear leader: a female bloodhound who brays to let Frank know it's a "stranger." Aretha still wants in on the love, almost knocking Chloe clean over as she tries to get her boots off.
Frank makes his way out of the kitchen unhurriedly, scratching behind the cat's ears as he makes his way past the couch she's draped over the whole top of. It's warm and cozy in here, electric lights in every room when every other house on the street is lit by candles alone. He isn't wearing shoes, the floorboards warmed by the stove in the cellar so that it's actually warmer without his boots indoors, dressed in an oversized hoodie and jeans only. His sleeves are rolled up so that she can see the bracelet he always wore in Reims: the handwoven leather a sharp contrast to the bright teal communicator on his opposite. There's also a small wooden necklace on a cord around his neck, the detail too far for her to see at a distance but there's a lightning bolt carved into the topside. Most notably of all is the rather impressive beard he's grown in the time between last seeing her, and it's apparent he hasn't cut his hair once either.
"How'd you make out, sweethear—" That is not Kamala, he registers, eyes widening as they meet Chloe's across the small entrance to the house. He's become used to, accustomed really, no one he recognizes remembering him. Jessica, Kamala and himself had all arrived in the Summer close together, but they're the only ones who remember Reims and everything that happened there. He generally accepts it as a mercy, no one should have to keep the memories of that place even if it meant they forgot everything they did for one another to survive. This place is nothing like that, people don't come together until it's too late, generally, though a few newcomers are trying to change that. Frank's just glad for anyone to do it but him.
There's a voice screaming that she won't remember, that he's going to ruin his second chance to get to know her, but he's just so relieved, closing the distance between them in two short strides and pushing dogs away so he can rest a heavy hand on her shoulder. And then, if she'll allow it, Frank pulls her in for a tight hug. There are already tears in his eyes before she's even reacted.