This idea had been great, in the right apartment.

He was a little drunk and maybe a little high when he made the decision to make amends. A commendable and noble decision considering he hadnt even been the one to really fuck up, but alas. He had crawled the fire escape all the way up, opened the window with ease.
But as he crawled in, he had not been expecting a drawer and it only sent him onto the floor with a loud thump. "Fuck!" he exclaimed in a slurred voice, knocking his head back against the hardwood. He blinked a few times as he laid there, trying to recognize the place, but he couldnt. This wasnt his exes apartment was it?

She was actually making some money for herself, hell she had even managed to get this apartment! It was quite crazy. She was still moving things around, trying to figure out what went where. This also meant she wasn't familiar with all the locks that she had to remember, but she clearly hadn't remembered the one in the livingroom. The loud bang startled her, grabbing the bat next to her bed that Mickey had gotten her as a move in present. She was just wearing an oversized t-shirt, but that didn't scare her. Getting in to the livingroom she looked around, but in the dark she couldn't see any figures. Well, that was until she came to the open window, looking down as she felt something against her bare feet. That mop of hair she couldn't recognise, but the smell of alcohol lingered. So it was just some drunk looking for a place to crash? "Fucking jackass, " she muttered under her breath, placing the head of the bat against the floor, tapping it loudly against it, hopefully making his head ring from the vibrations if not the sound.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing in my apartment?" She asked the stranger, turning on the light above them. Frowning it wasn't a face she recognised at all. Who was he? "Hey, idiot, I asked you something," she said, gripping around the bat a little harder, using it to turn his head so that he looked up at her.

He felt a little disoriented and far too drunk to be getting up on his own. He hadnt even realized someone had come near and walked into him until the bat was was tapped loudly. He jumped a little in place, mumbling a few incoherent sounds of annoyance. He heard her question but was quite taken aback by the sudden light above. He covered his eyes and gritted his teeth a little. "Yeah yeah, I heard you the first time." he muttered, pushing himself up to sit as he drew in a deep breath. "Unless your name is Tiffany, I'm in the wrong apartment." he said, looking around, pinching his eyes as he couldnt recognize anything. He reached out to grab the furniture he leaned against, getting back on his feet. "Dont worry, I'll leave the way I came." he mumbled.

What the fuck kind of neighbourhood had she moved in to? Sure, the bustling life outside these walls made her furniture shake from time to time, but it wasn't an unsafe place to live. She knew. Mickey had went in to excruciating deep depths to look up the area that Frankie was now residing in. However the fenix still took her precautions. She packed away her most valuable items, placing them in a small box beneath her bed. Some things just never changed. He spoke about her being Tiffany, and she shook her head, but could already imagine the type of girl she was. She probably had her life together, had long blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. She probably had a nice stable job, and she had picked the guy in front of her as some sort of rebellion against her strict parents.
"Sure ain't," was the dry reply she came up with, crossing her arms in front of her chest as her eyes moved up and down the tall kid. Or, he looked a little older than her, but not by much. He spoke about leaving and she clicked her tounge, releasing her arms to grab around the bat once more, giving him a firm push with the head of it, pushing him back in to a beanbag. "Nah, you stay put," she said, walking over to the window to look out. She was still rather paranoid. Gareth had left her pretty much alone, but once in a while he stuck his nose right back in her life. Maybe that feeling of dread would never truly go away.
After securing that noone was lurking outside, not even an unknown car on the streets, she stuck her head back in and closed the shaky frame after her. "Who sent you?" She asked, because in her head she was convinced. She knew many a dark person in her past, many who could gain from her in one way or another, "today, junior," her firm voice ringing a little higher.

Scoffing at his reply it was clear she wasn't convinced nor impressed. He looked like a tired kid who had spent the whole day at an amusement park. Perhaps that was how all drunkards looked in the eyes of a sober person. A garbage truck rustled by, a few picture frames shaking on the walls, probably already leaving marks against the still new paint. "Why else would a strange know both where I live and know how to access my apartment?" She asked, as if it made perfect sense to anyone in the whole wide world. She had a good grip around the end of the bat. Mickey had joked that for every intruder they were to add a nail, just to scare off more and more visitors. Mickey and her ideas. We'll, Frankie was usually up to follow suit with whatever the hybrid came up with.
"Listen, I won't hurt you if you just tell me," she said, seemingly convicted to the notion that she would hurt him if he didn't speak. "I don't take kindly to lying, so you better just spit it out - is it Tommy? Jared? Melissa?" She started spitting out names of a few that were at the top of her head. And Garerh? Well she didn't even dare say him name. Sometimes he felt like a scary story; say his name three times and he'd appear out of thin air ready to torment you once more. Her knuckles were turning white at how she gripped on the bat, gritting her teeth as she could see he was falling asleep. What sorta game was he playing? "Oy,
dont fall asleep!"

Looking at him she wasn't sure what to think. And she had seen Drunken Master both one and two mind you, she knew not to trust appearances. However as he went for his phone, she kept up her guard, seeing it slip on to the floor. He was pathetic, wasn't he? With the bat she moved the phone, cracking the screen, although judging by the state of him it perhaps served him right. She picked it up, unlocking it - well the asshole didn't even have a pin, so it was kinda his own fault. Looking through his messages she found nothing, and the most recent pictures on his phone was either him trying to take a selfie or some really blurry pictures of what could best be likened to found pictures of UFOs. "Fucking useless," she muttered throwing the phone back at him, grunting as she placed her bat over her shoulder to rest her hands. He was succumbing to sleep once again and she decided that she might as well stay up and keep an eye on him. He was clearly helpless.
Letting him slump in the bean bag she put on the coffee machine. She had bought it second hand and it took ages to brew, but she swore it was the best coffee in all of Churchill. The bat she placed on the kitchen counter, keeping it close by in case the Jackie Chan wannabe in her livingroom would do a surprise attack.
Rubbing her eyes she jawned. She was still tired, but this whole ordeal had made adrenaline spread out through her system and wake her right up. Sleep she wouldn't be able to until later. While the coffee machine was whirring and wheezing, she cracked open her fridge to take out what little she had in there. Eggs, some veggies that hadn't gone bad yet. Opening her carton of milk she took a whiff, shrugging as it smelt alright.

Frankie wasn't the best cook. She liked it though, but mostly when it was for herself. It was always a bit nerve-wracking to have others judge what your own taste-buds liked. So she was making an omelet for herself, putting in all of the veggies that she liked and cooking it slowly in a pan. As she was just about to finish up, she heard commotion in the living room. Taking her food off the heat she grabbed her bat and returned to find the poor mythical struggling to fight with the beanbag. Hearing his mumble she shook her head, reaching out to help him up. "You know, you should really consider the fact that you can't hold your liquor," she muttered as she heard the coffee machine give off its signature sputter, declaring it was finished brewing. Breathing out in a sigh, she held around the bat with one hand and wrapped her arm around his waist, supporting him as she guided him out to her small kitchen. It wasn't anything special, but she had placed a small table with one chair. And that was where she dumped the mythical, hopefully not falling to the floor, but it wouldn't surprise her.
"Milk? Sugar?" she asked, keeping herself calm as she yawned once more, placing the bat down on the kitchen counter as she went over to pour two cups of coffee. If he wanted anything in his, she would add it, or else she would just place it on the table in front of him. Her omelet was done, and she grabbed some toast as well. Taking a look at the guy and the shape he was in she couldn't help but pity him a bit. She decided to make him a plate as well, splitting the omelet between them fairly equally. Handing him the food along with a fork, she crawled up on her kitchen counter, folding her legs as she took a bite of toast. "You could start by telling me your name, if you can even remember it," she shrugged.

He was almost not going to accept her help but there was no other way to leave the beanbag it seemed. His drunken self at least couldnt make out how to make his legs and arms work in sync. "It wasnt the plan to down the whole bottle, it just magically happened!" he admitted drunkenly, just following her lead mindlessly as she took him to the kitchen. He almost missed the chair but grabbed onto the table, making it wobble a little before he could ground himself.
"Sugaaaaaaar~" he called out with a slick smile, leaning his elbow onto the table, resting his hand on his head and the other way around but he couldnt tell which was which in this state. He took a sip off the coffee, blinking tiredly before she placed the plate in front of him. "Oh, yummy." he mumbled, looking at the omelette, poking it lightly with the fork, though he did stab it once or twice. "Deacon... Deacon Grant." he said in a melodic tone, sending her a drunken charming smile. "And I know that you're not Tiffany." he said, pointing at her with the fork. "Though I dig the hair... Or well.." he said gesturing around his own head as to pinpoint hers.

What an absolute weirdo. But she guessed she was sort of a weirdo magnet. Mickey at least had that theory, claiming that she could attract strange men from far away as if she had some signal. The way he said sugar made her roll her eyes. He was clearly too drunk for anything right now, and least of all flirting. It was almost cute. Almost. But she decided, fuck it, she might as well get to know this stranger and if he misbehaved he would simply be kicked out, simple as that.
Deacon Grant. Frowning a little she wasn't sure if that was supposed to be an important name, but she supposed it was rather normal sounding. His drunken smile and pointing at her made her scoff, "I am not Tiffany; Very good deduction, Sherlock," she replied. Poor Tiffany if she had had to deal with him. He seemed like quite the mouthful, and he looked like the type to be overly clingy. He complimented her, but she took it more as him trying to make fun of her. "Fuck off," she muttered under her breath, taking a sip of her scolding hot coffee before eating a bit of omelet. She wasn't really a breakfast person. Well usually because she slept most of the day and went out at night. But not today. She had plans to go see her siblings, and by that extend her mother. It would be a question whether or not her father would actually be around.
Her attention was drawn back to Deacon, reaching out to adjust his plate so it wouldn't just slip down on the floor. Yeah in this state she doubted he was working for Gareth. And then again, she could never really know for sure. "Don't you think you're being a bit of a dickhead?" she asked, "I mean, if Tiffany don't wanna see you, why the fuck are you trying to see her?"

Rad? She had only truly started buzzing it off after leaving Gareth because he had pulled most of her hair out anyways when he was man-handling her. At least he wasn't making fun of her, but then again she could easily beat his as when he was in this state. Even watching him trying to eat - emphasis on trying - was painful. She opted to hand him a big spoon instead, hoping that would help with the lack of success in that department.
However as he spoke about something important she scoffed, "like your dignity?" tilting her head along with the snarky comment. However the next part felt like a cut to her gut. He wouldn't be girlfriends with her? "Well you sound like a whiny white boy who's scared of commitment then," she said a little harshly, but he probably wouldn't even remember this conversation when he woke up after a long sleep. "What's the problem with settling down for someone? I mean if you like them enough to fuck them, then surely you could go steady for a while," taking a sip of her coffee. Yeah, she had her own opinions on being in a relationship. Gareth had never wanted to commit either, at least not fully, and when he had he had taken every opportunity to cheat on her.

"Among things." he just said plainly with a shrug, not having considered the spoon just yet, unless of course she had placed it in his hand. He was fully convinced that he still held a fork in hand. A drunken smile spread on his lips and he stabbed a piece of mangled omelette. ".. Though that one I wont get back." he remarked. The insult he ignored as he focused on the omelette. Weird that he couldnt stab it properly anymore? Her question made him shrug as he put down the utensil, leaning back into the chair before he smiled at her. The smile turned to a grin and he just seemed content sitting there. His phone began buzzing like crazy and he did look at it. Even took it out but was unable to press the pickup button.

Fuck she really had to do everything for him, didn't she? He gave up on the omellette, but she had made it for him, and he was going to eat it! She grabbed the fork as he gave up on the spoon, stabbing a few pieces that he had already mangled before grabbing his chin with her other hand. She guided the fork to his lips, hopefully making him open his mouth and eat a little. "At least say ah, or whatever," she muttered.
But then his phone started to go crazy, frowning she looked as he struggled to pick it up. Somehow she managed to press a few buttons through the busted screen. "Hello?" she said, confused as to who could be calling this dude at this hour.

Picking up the phone she wasn't sure what was going to greet her. Would it be Gareth's ominous breath or simply someone who knew Deacon. It turned out to be the latter, making her breathe a little easier as the guy on the other end sounded rather genuine. "Uhm, yeah, well ... He's here with me alright," she said, putting the phone on speaker with a bit of struggle, but if it was someone Deacon knew, then they best hear it from his own mouth. "Are you guys going to come get him? He's very wasted," she asked, because she wasn't sure she could survive much longer without passing out from how tired she was.

"Phew." the guy on the other end said quite relieved. Deacon began chuckling as they were put on speaker and he heard the guy talk. "We can come get him. Can you send an address? Or drag him somewhere where we can get him?" he asked. Deacon shook his head. "Come on. We were having fun." he giggled in a drunken manner, leaning back into the chair and almost falling over. He definitely wasnt a company worth keeping in this state. He was barely functional and seemed to giggle over nothing. At least he wasnt sick... yet.

"Yeah you can come get him," she said, frowning as he started to giggle. She had to grab on to the chair as to not make him fall over. "I'll see if I can get him to chill out," she muttered, giving them the address before hanging up on the phone. Or at least she thought she did, she wasn't too sure with the busted screen. She got off the counter, walking around to help him out of his chair, just so he wouldn't fall. "Come on, pretty boy, we don't want you to ruin your face," she muttered, helping him up on his feet and back in to her living room. Placing him down on her couch she went to grab him a blanket.

Deacon followed willingly, though he was a little wobbly on his feet. He was placed on the couch and not long after had he fallen asleep. He was a heavy sleeper as a drunk, but his friends arrived before he could fall into any deep sleep. They thanked her a lot for not just throwing him out for him to wander the streets. Deacon leaned back as two guys held him up, sending Frankie a charming smile. “She’s a hero or some shit.” He muttered, before they promptly escorted him out and to where he had to be.

A few days later a knock was on her door. Which was odd because there was a door phone.

Frankie rolled her eyes at the charming smile. He was really drunk, so it wasn't like she was blaming him. However she was quite happy that he was getting picked up and got out of here. Returning to sleep she opted to sleep with her wooden bat next to her for a few nights. Perhaps because paranoia wasn't so easy to get rid of, and if a drunkard could get in to her apartment without even trying, then she didn't trust what could come in on purpose.

A few days had passed, and she had told Mickey about the whole ordeal. She had rightfully flipped her shit, but there wasn't a way for them to figure out who this guy really was. They had a name, but that could be hard to find in such a big city. The knock on the door made her frown, moving up to the door rather silently. She hated that she had to be this careful in her own home, but it was the price you had to pay for having been with a Prideux. She looked through the small spying eye to see who it was.

There was no need to go look for him. Once he had sobered up and seen the messages, confronted the faint flashbacks from the night itself, talked to his friends that found it quite hilarious, he realized that his behaviour hadnt really been that acceptable. Crawling in through some random girl's window? Very creepy. So he decided to show up, his friend having saved the address as he thought Deacon might've wanted it. He stood on the other side of the door, looking a little tired from being hungover but albeit sober. This was definitely the look of a guy who was contemplating his life choices; Or rather having to deal with the life choices of his own drunken self. He lifted his hand again to knock again. If she wouldnt answer then he would just have to go home? Try again another time? No, that would be a little creepy wouldnt it?

Okay, this was weird. Opening the door she looked Deacon up and down, raising an eyebrow as she looked at him. "Gotta say, I'm surprised you didn't take your personal entrance this time around," she said, nodding a bit before she tilted her head to look at him more closely. "What are you doing here?" She knew for certain that he hadn't forgotten something here because she had made sure of that. Crossing her arms she waited for an explanation, not letting him in and she doubted he would force his way inside for a second time.

The door was opened and he looked at her directly, frowning a little as he finally got to see who his brain had replayed in a fog as the person his drunken self had harassed. She looked pretty… but also understandably annoyed with him. Her remark made him fold his lips and nod in shame. Yeah, he had most probably fucked up. “I crawl around a lot in my free time for fun, with a little bit of alcohol it gets more and more daring. Yesterday was a bit over the top on courage. I did look. It’s not too easy to get on your fire escape.” He said, scoffing lightly as she probably didnt give too much of a shit what he did or say. The question made him look a little displeased but it was mostly because of himself. “I wanted to apologize. For breaking in… disturbing your night. All that jazz.” He said, shrugging lightly as it just seemed to be the right thing to do. “Did I break anything that I should replace? Upfront some kind of therapy for any trauma that drunken idiot me could have caused?” Okay, the last one was a bit of a joke, and he smiled faintly as he thought it was funny but then his expression turned serious once more.