Le Renard et la Bohémienne {Frankie}

[AISHA]

New York winters were stupid. Stupid, brutal, and completely unnecessary. However, despite the cold--one still needed a shower. It just happened to suck when you had to go crawling out of your nice warm sewer tunnels to do that. It sucked even more that her family had dispersed. It wasn't wonderfully sanitary, but as a group they were able to haul gallons of water down to the tunnels, heat them over the fire--at at least have a warm clean up. But Aisha couldn't go up and down the ladder carrying gallons of water repetedly. The cold also meant that people were staying inside their nice, warm, toasty homes--which meant she wouldn't be able to break in to steal a hot shower. So, the next best thing.

Bathing in the little lake just behind the grouping of trees in Central Park. It had to be done fast, because the water was almost freezing. She would also have to get out, get dressed fast, and back to the tunnels to sit in front of the fire to dry her hair. It was dangerous what she was having to do, but she couldn't stand the grime anymore and it wouldn't be the first time. It was easier to strip down and dip her hair in the water, as though it were a giant sink. Scrubbing it down with a bar of soap, and dipping it again to rinse it. The less time her actual body had to be in the water, the better. Letting her hair hang, she slipped off her oversized black sweater, and the orange tanktop underneath, followed by her jeans and her underwear.

Aisha dropped them on a rock nerby and stood at the edge of the water for a moment, shivering in the cold while her hair splayed in ink-like lines across her back and shoulders. She rushed into the water, her mouth opening and closing, gasping as thecold of the water pierced her like needles. It felt like it was crushing ehr lungs, and forcing the blood to slow in her body. With the same quickness she rushed into the water, she grabbed for the bar of soap on the shore and started to scrub the dirt off of her skin. Her teeth clattered into each other noisily, and her entire body trembled whileshe stood on her toes in the freezing water. She dipped down completely submerged to clean her legs and her toes, before she surfaced again gulping down the cold air.

That would have to do. Just those few short minutes in the water were precious to get her clean. Aisha could mange days with just botles of water and rags, but this was one of those times where she just needed the full-body dunk in the water. It just sucked that it happened to be currently winter. The black haired woman scrambled out of the water, grabbing the towel that had been next to her clothes on the rock. Leaning over, she ruffled her hair with it, getting as much of the water from the locks soaked up that she could manage while she started to completely dry herself with her shaking hands.

Black hair fell in unmanageable waves around her face; if the way they started to twist and spin when they were wet were any indication of how the curls were when they were dry--she had her hands full. However, worrying about getting her hair brushed wasn't completely at the top of her worries, because something was wrong. Something was very wrong. She tightened the towel around her slender frame and stared at the rock where she grabbed her towl. Her blue eyes almost bugged out of her head, and she hunched over a little on herself, shaking while she looked around quickly. Dark brows knitted while she gasped in the cold air.

Okay.

Where the fuck were her clothes?

OUTFIT...or lack thereof.

[FRANKIE VULPINI]

He hadn’t wanted to go out. The couch was just fine, he’d said, for long-term stays. Hell, it was so goddamn comfortable, he didn’t think he’d ever leave, what with that fine television just a few feet away and the nice, random lumpy springs that prodded in his back and kept him awake so he couldn’t possibly ever be called lazy—he wasn’t sleeping, after all. He was watching. Recovering. Spending quality time with a dog that he, in all honesty, despised just as much as his sister did.

That, of course, would be why Bo was left at home during this particular forced excursion. He hated that flea rag almost as much as he hated his brother, and so the two had been left home, together (although whether Joel was there or not actually didn’t concern Frankie in the slightest), while he’d gone out “job hunting” and his sister had peddled off to work on her little bike, like the wonderful little child she was. Wonderful, and so very, very naïve.

He’d gone to the park, not because that was where the jobs were, but because there was where the drugs were found. Drugs he needed desperately, as he had no desire keep his promise to his sister and go through with the whole “coming clean” thing, no matter how proud of him for it she might be. It hurt to goddamn much. Frankie, for all his big talk and nasty words and wicked punch, did not like pain. Particularly the unnecessary kind.

They say that’s how it works, when one’s used to being at the top of the food chain.

He’d gotten them, though, and now that all was said and done and comfortably resting in his inside coat pocket, had had time to wander. He could have gone back—home, as they were calling it nowadays—but that would have been too simple, and only aroused suspicion. It would have seemed he wasn’t trying. He didn’t want to look effortless. And he was bored. Bored of the television, bored of the couch, bored of his brother and his sister and their talking like he wasn’t there when they thought he was asleep. Bored. Boring. Annoyed.

So, he’d stumbled across a pond. At first, he’d thought it empty. Just another place to walk by, not bother to stop and admire. And then he’d seen her.

The dark hair. The bent frame. The utter lack of clothing.

Hannah.

A small smile crept across Frankie’s lips as not only that, but a pile of clothes came into view. So maybe it wasn’t completely boring. Snickering to himself in a manner that was probably quite immature for his age, Frankie darted towards the rock and snatched them—sweater and sneakers and all—before returning back to the shelter of the barren trees surrounding the little lake. He grinned. The towel was still there—so he’d done her a kindness, really, he thought to himself as he watched her stand, emerge from the water and turn. He was still snickering when he looked down and then up again, until—shit.

Realization hit him as a truck might a gnat. Hard.

That…was not Hannah.

Frankie blinked at the towel—the girl—woman in the towel, and felt his jaw drop ever so slightly. But…he could have sworn…they looked so similar. From the back.

His face was innocent, although not mirthfully so as he stepped out from behind the trees, shoes in one hand, jeans and shirt in the other. “You uh…dropped these, I think. At least, I’m assuming they’re yours,” taking a step forward, Frankie held the clothes out in the direction of the dripping, shaking, highly attractive girl, his eyes glancing quickly up and down her frame before he cleared his throat, brow quirking slightly.

So what if he’d been planning on stealing his baby sister’s clothes?


ooc: So I can’t remember exactly how we said we were going to start this off, but…here it is. If you want me to edit or anything, just let me know! :D

[AISHA]

The rustling of leaves forced her to shoot her head up. If that was a policeman, maybe she could play sweet. Innocent. If it were someone else, she were utterly screwed. However, she was startled when she saw who indeed stepped out from behind those trees. She stood there for a moment, shaking almost violently as he held the clothes out to her; after blatantly checking out her towel-clad form. “I didn’t drop them.” She snatched them from his hands, and held her towel in place with her elbow, looking down at her clothes and sighed. She wanted them on that rock to gather some sun to at least be somewhat warm when she put them on. “Great. Might as well just lay down and freeze to death now.” Her vivid blue eyes narrowed, looking Frankie up and down while she turned her back on him.

She wandered to the nearby rock, and dropped the clothes onto them before she fished out the tanktop, and started to tug it over her head, keeping the towel in place. “If you’re gonna stick around and watch, leave a tip.” She dropped the towel enough to pull on the panties, followed by the jeans and the stretched out sweater, before pulling her long hair from her shirt and dropping it back into place while she raised the towel to her head to start drying her hair. Once dressed, and the towel rubbing against her head, she turned towards the thief. “So what are you, some kinda panty sniffer? Or do you just have absolutely nothing better to do that steal girl’s clothing?” She pulled the old towel away from her hair, the damp curls already starting to spring to life around her shoulders and her face. Her brows raised up towards her hairline, while her lips parted expectantly, watching him.

Aisha grabbed for her shoes, and sat down on the rock, clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. “No one ever comes out here.” She yanked the shoes, which were a little too small for her feet and a little too worn down, into place while she started to tie the laces. “So exactly what are you doing back here?” She looked over her shoulder at him again, her lashes flickering as her eyes glanced him up and down before turning back around to pull her other shoe on. “This spot’s filled with homeless and wild animals. Probably not the safest spot to be pulling pranks on people, or even be wandering.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder while she laced up the second beat up converse, and rose to her feet. “Do you need help finding something?” She stepped a little closer to him, while her arms crossed beneath her chest, eyeing him skeptically. “I mean, I’ve got a few shirts, a couple skirts if you want those. Dunno if they’ll fit you.” She leaned back a little, her hands stretching out to mimic the curve of his body, before looking back at him.

Sarcasm. If Aisha was educated in anything, it was definitely sarcasm.

OUTFIT...or lack thereof.

[FRANKIE VULPINI]

Frankie’s brows shot straight upward at the mystery not-Hannah’s immediate turn to snark. Good. He liked reactions. They were fun. Funny. Even better when he hadn’t been meaning to cause them; this one had been meant for Hannah, and therefore the fact that misfortune had instead befallen this pretty little creature did nothing but amuse him further.

“No, you’re right,” he admitted with a small smile and a noncommittal shrug, brining his hand back to his jacket pocket once the clothes had been removed from his grasp. He cleared his throat. Another look up and down and she was walking away, although apparently not to leave just yet. Perfectly fine with him, to be honest. Frankie leaned back against a rock, facing her with absolutely no shame as she changed, his eyes glancing not-so-subtly to her barely-clad rear every so often. He cleared his throat, speaking a bit louder now that she was a few feet away. “Thought you were someone else, actually…”

Now just who else he’d thought she was…that little tidbit he’d keep to himself. Just for now. He had the strangest feeling it wouldn’t go over well, sibling prank or not, to tell a stranger he’d stolen her clothes simply because from a distance, she bore a remarkable resemblance to his little sister. Even up close, actually. They had the same blue eyes, the long dark hair and there was something, too, in the way they spoke that intrigued him. Well, the way she spoke. This woman. The one right in front of him. He couldn’t care less about his sister.

Pushing off the rock where he’d been leaning, Frankie shook his head, a little smile on his lips that probably came off half as fuck-less (for he gave none about his deed, and certainly wouldn’t have even if the girl had turned out to be of Vulpini descent) as it did charming. He waited until she was finished to speak, until she’d gotten close enough that he could get a real good, descent look at her again. Yes, she and Hannah were close. Very close. So then, maybe he really did have a good eye. And she was pretty, too, this girl.

Hands in his pockets, he shrugged a little before raising a brow at her, voice bordering somewhere between concerned and just plain skeptical. “You know, I could be saying the same to you…Bet you wouldn’t last two seconds, someone came up behind and tried to get at you.”
Yes, she was lucky he’d come along. Maybe the circumstances were a bit odd. So what? He could adjust.

A little chuckle left his lips when she leaned back to get a better look. He shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. I was just walking, really. Stepped off the path a bit for the hell of it, and well…here I am,” he shrugged before pulling his right hand out of his jacket pocket and extending it to her, his most nonchalant smile on his lips. “I’m Frankie, by the way. And uh…” his voice grew abashed as a small twinge of an embarrassed flush made its way over his cheeks. “Sorry about your clothes.”

[AISHA]

"Regardless, you thought it was funny to steal someone's clothes when it's freezing cold outside?" She shook out her towel, and folded it carefully over her arm, looking down at the hand he held out to her. "Bet I could. Shouldn't judge a book by its cover." Her hand reached out and grasped his, her handshake firm. Though her skin looked soft, there was a slight roughness to her fingers and hand. Aisha had recently cleaned, but there seemed to be a slight line of dirt around her nails that only a ferocious scrubbing would get rid of. A closer look revealed that Aisha wasn't just a random stranger just deciding to bathe in nearly freezing waters.

"Aisha. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but I think it would have been nicer had you not stolen my clothes." She wasn't letting this go any time soon. Aisha withdrew her hand slowly, foldingher arms over her stomach, beneath the towel draped over her forearms. "I think I know how you can make it up to me. You can buy me a drink." And then kiss your wallet goodbye, of course. Aisha was a pretty girl, but she was theif above all else, and this fella looked like he had a little something to spare. "I mean, unless you don't. In that case, I really ought to get back home so I don't get sick. I legitimately can't afford to get sick right now."

This man sort of made her feel bad...sort of. It had been an honest mistake, he thought she was someone else. Honest mistake. However, it had been someone else, and that meant there was a slight maliciousness to him that would actually steal clothes from someone in this type of weather. A sweet face with a bit of a bite, no doubt. "Haven't you learned anything, though? Little Red stepped off the path, and she damn near got killed for it." Aisha put the towel in her mouth, biting down hard on it while she pulled a small black band around her wrist to sweep her hair up into a sloppy bun, just to keep the wet tendrils off of her back, and from seeping through her clothes.

"So what say you? An apology drink, or shall I leave you to pranking unsuspecting young ladies?"

OUTFIT...or lack thereof.

[FRANKIE VULPINI]

Frankie shrugged. Of course it’d be fun to steal someone else’s clothes—if that someone had actually been Hannah. Hell, even now it hadn’t been a complete waste of time. She was good looking, at least, and even if the fiasco amounted to nothing more than his not-so-sincere apology and a farewell, he felt he could walk away from this not at a total loss.

“No. Guess not,” his voice was firm but impassive, the surprised quirk of his brows faded almost as soon as it showed. He’d expected someone soft. Fragile, even. Although maybe that was dumb to think; she had just been skinny dipping in a lake in the middle of winter, after all. Maybe she was right, if only a little.

His handshake was firm and tough, although it dropped after a moment as he offered her a small smile. “Fair enough, Aisha.” His brows raised as she continued, although he couldn’t bother denying the fact that a drink with this girl would no doubt be just the thing he needed. Wanted. There was something about her eyes that he liked. Something familiar in a way that reminded him of Jennie, but not enough to care that it was her. He nodded, hand moving to his back pocket to double-check that his wallet was still there. Not that it was necessary. The thing was attached to a chain—the sort you had to unscrew to get loose—which then hooked to his belt loop. He’d had enough fiascos in the crowded streets of Chicago on weekend nights, and so keeping it close had become something of second nature. He grinned as he pulled his hand away, offering her a nod.

“Yeah, almost. And besides, I’m perfectly capable of avoiding big, bad wolves.” he responded smartly, the grin fading to something of a smirk.

He watched her as she swept up her hair, eyes hovering over the swoop of her neck for a split second as she bent downward. She had a nice neck. A pretty one. Small. When she straightened again he offered her another nod before beginning to walk backwards in the direction from where he’d came, eyes bright as he led her through the barren trees. “No, no, I’m all for drinks,” he called back to her, staying just out of arms reach a few paces ahead, glancing behind him every so often so as to make sure he didn’t run right into any trees. No need to stand so close to her just yet—after having stolen her clothes, no doubt she’d find closeness somewhat uncomfortable, particularly in a secluded area of Central Park, no matter how tough this girl apparently was. “You got any preferences?”