Several days had gone by since the attack. Tarna looked at her reflection in the mirror, the bruises and swelling were almost to the point of fading completely. Fast healing, perhaps one thing she should be grateful to her mother for.

A sigh as she exited the main bath and entered her room. Her new place rested just across the street from A Stitch in Time. A very barren new place. As soon as she was fully healed she needed to go get furniture and attempt to make the place look more homey.

Her eyes skimmed over her bedding. Empty. Last night it had only been her, like it used to be before coming to Rhy'Din... before regaining control of her life. With help from mom, the bitter thought tagged on. Ah well... let it be. The woman did not ask for anything in return... and should she ever show up to do so, Tarna would simple deny her. She had that right now.

Tarna hadn't really put much thought into her life until after she was attacked. The moment of being attack, of having to fight for her life, of deciding never to bend to another's will.. empowered her a little. Still, it didn't make it any easier to deal with sudden new areas of life.

A man. A man who swelled her heart... making it race. A man she longed for... but then was still afraid to have. She was afraid she would give herself to him... only for him to turn it into nothing. She dearly hoped that would not happen... but the fear of it kept her at a distance to him at times.

Still, she obeyed his instructions to stay off her ankle... for the most part. And she hadn't left the apartment since he had returned her here that one day from the inn. Though, she was starting to go a little stir crazy being in the apartment alone, now, for so long. She was more concerned for him... his work.

It was early...

He would come.

"Here Frank." She called from her bedroom as she started towards the door and down the hallway to him. Maybe he'd give her the go ahead to go out again since she was looking better? At least, what was viewable looked better... which was most of her, a loose blouse covering her torso and upper thighs. She smiled to him as he shut the door behind him.

"Cold out?" She said from the gap between the mainroom and the hallway. Perhaps she would have moved into the room and sat on a couch, but there was nothing in the room to sit on as of yet.

"Ankle is better." A nod. She tugged at the fabric that covered her, "I found it at the bottom of my chest, something Raven gave me to wear. She didn't like the idea of men getting the wrong idea from my clothing that were more fitted." Little shy smile to that... she guessed Raven never thought a man would see her in only that shirt. Course, it hadn't been something Tarna would have thought either until now.

She moved from the hallway over to him, taking the bag from him before wrapping her arms about him tightly, even taking enjoyment from the chill that lingered on his clothing. "Can't stay long?" The boots and clothing in the bag would get more attention when Frank wasn't there to distract her from them. Unless he planned staying longer or long enough to see her go through them.

Tilting her head up to him, with a smile.

She leaned up, kissing his cheek near the line of his jaw. "I won't tell him. Though I wonder which part is the secret, you slacking off or me." Her bright smile taking away any seriousness behind the tease.

Still smiling, Tarna moved a little away from him and set the bag down near the wall. "Raven is a woman, Frank." Looking back at him, "A very... oddly... maternal... woman. Who hates males.. er, men." She wrinkled her nose at the male vs. man thing before explaining. "Raven calls you males... it takes away the human aspect of your being. I'm sure there's a story behind it, but it is not one I have ever been told." Seemed to consider Raven a moment before her focus returned to Frank with a semi-helpless smile.

"I would love to keep you longer... but I won't." Moving again into his arms, head titled up to look into his eyes.

A quiet smile at his comment about Raven allowing her to keep him. If it were up to Raven Tarna would probably be in a tall tower with no doors or windows and her head would be shaved on a daily basis just to be on the safe side. It was probably for the best that Raven didn't have a say in the matter one way or another. Tarna had no worries or cares about keeping Raven one way or another. Truly, she was her mother's friend more than her's.

When Frank laughed she had been about to ask what he had found so amusing but was quickly distracted from that thought by his kiss. Melting in his arms. When their lips parted, she gave a nod to his request. "I will. I will keep you in my thoughts and stay warm with them."

Another brillant smile, she leaned in giving him another soft kiss... a tingle of warmth infusing his body. She bite her lower lip, unable to help herself. "I know you can take care of yourself Frank, but you can't shoot bullets at the cold." A look saying that she hoped he wouldn't be upset by this little bit of help she wanted to give him.

Tarna would have willpower enough for both of them. Easying slowly back from another kiss, she took one hand from Frank and put it on the door knob. The other hand sliding down to take his hand, gently squeezing it.

"Than you." She replied. She had the boots and clothing to thank him for. Course there was more... the feeling that was becoming more alive in her heart, a feeling she thought maybe she would never be able to feel for anyone... a feeling that amplified when he kissed her, looked into her eyes, or held her. It was the feeling that surrounded her at night when she laid safely in his arms and knew no harm could come to her.

Openning the door for him, allowing him to back out as she leaned into the door frame. It was a good thing this was a private building, elsewise someone might have seen more of Tarna than she would have liked. Her hand still holding onto his, she was only a few millimeters outside of her apartment.

"Don't forget to come back to me, Frank."

Tarna watched Frank decent until he was out of view, closing and locking the door once he was. She moved over to the window, seeing him in his jeep as he drove off.... lingering for a moment even once he was out of view.

Then back to the bag she went, picking it up and making her way back to her bedroom. Tarna sat down on her matress on the floor and pulled the blankets about her. Then pulling the bag into her lap for closer inspection. As Frank Promised there was a new pair of boots, steel-toed and everything as well as several oversized shirts, creases from the shops they came from still in them. She smiled, letting the blanket fall down to her hips. She undid the blouse, changing into one of the new shirts after using Corwin's cleaning spell on it.

Tarna put the bag of other shirts and her new boots to the side of her mattress. This time settling more under the covers and bunching the pillows close to her. She held the one Frank tended to rest his head on, taking in the soft scent of him that remained. Lazily, she used her magic to dim the light of the apartment... Perhaps if she slept it would make the time go by faster. Drifting to sleep with Frank still in her thoughts.

Long hours had passed. Long hours that Frank had, as predicted, spent in the cold, and the half-frozen rain. His Jeep, equally unhappy to have spent this dismal evening in the cold, prohibited the dirty, tired marine entrance to the frigid (but dry!) cabin. That is, until Frank mustered the strength, amid no small measure of cursing, to haul it open against the icy seal.

He tossed his assault rifle, the only thing he had ever driven anywhere, into the passenger seat. The engine turned over easily, and the heat came on inside a minute. Oh yeah. The heater was the first thing he'd replaced in this piece of junk, and good thing. He remembered the brakes still needed maintenance. So did his gun. So did his gear. So did those infinitely damnable excuses for rifles the City Watch had commissioned him to repair.

He'd rather have a hot shower. He considered visiting Tarna as he sat there absorbing heat. It was a selfish little thought, he said to himself. Perhaps it would be an indulgence he deserved for once? Warm shower. Warm bed. A guy could get spoiled on that kind of thing; softens the edge. Did he want to be edged? Edges cut people.

Way to be deep, Frank. He puts the Wrangler in gear, riding the clutch on the ice-slick streets. The conscious part of Frank's mind hadn't really come to a decision yet, but whatever bits controlled the ability to drive and navigate had set the Jeep on a slow, meandering course to a particular piece of real estate near the marketplace.

The Jeep squeaked to a stop, and he looked up at the two story building. Sandwiched comfortably as it was, it could not be readily mistaken for the sprawling, if somewhat shoddy, exterior of the Division HQ. He stepped out into the cold once more, still staring up at Tarna's apartment. He sighed into the frigid air and wondered which piece of him was so traitor to logic and sensibility. He'd figured that piece of him dead.

Well, no sense in standing in the cold, right? Right! On up the stairs, key in hand, and shrugging his flak jacket off before he'd even made it all the way through the door. It occurred to him, right about then, that not everyone only slept four hours in a night. He looked around quietly...

Frank had turned almost immediately toward the kitchen. He wandered over, jacket still in hand, and just stared, dumbfounded at the ridiculous array of food. Never had Frank seen such a feast. His senses basically refused to take it all in in one pass. So he was having another go at it when Tarna walked in.

"You've been busy!" He said, turning toward her, and he paused to eye the... ahh... dessert. Maybe that traitorous, insensible piece of him had had the right idea after all! He grinned at her, a big, toothy grin. The whites of his teeth only served to make the dirt covering him stand out that much more. It was like the man married dirt anew every day.

Dirt was pretty good camouflage. Especially when you were trying to blend in with the dirt, which was easy, because dirt was, well, everywhere. Remarkably, though, his boots were clean. At least the bottoms, for he left no smudges on the recently and thoroughly cleaned floor. Frank: A man of many talents and curious sensibilities.

"You thought of me, and made all this?" he asks, incredulous. This was a man who could eat cardboard and be content, but instead bothered to make actual food for the nutritional value, and because that's what he'd been taught to do. Frank suspected he'd be much skinnier if he didn't drink so much.

"I mean- Thank you. Er, I'd give you a hug but... maybe I will take you up on that shower, first," he grins. He eyes one of the aforementioned cookies curiously. "Haven't had chocolate chip since I was six..." he mutters, snagging one. Hey, look at that, just as good as he remembered! Actually, better. Tarna was amazing! He eyed her again, definitely amazing, he decides with a cookie in his mouth.

"Should probably spray me with a hose, first," he mutters, looking down at himself. How did he get so dirty?!

"You could open a restaurant, sweetheart." He says, going back to eyeing all the delicious dishes. He has to resist the urge to nick something more substantial than a cookie. He does nick another of those, however.

If this was gonna happen more often, he was gonna have to stop drinking. And start running in the morning or something... as if he didn't do enough of that during the day! He sighed; this girl was trouble, some small corner of his brain commented. The greater portion, however: Yeah? So?

"Well then, lets go test the shower!" He starts stripping off his shirt and the upper part of his thermal underlay, being quite careful to keep the dirt on the gear. Remarkably, it all sticks. "Care to join me?" he teases. She wasn't dirty anymore, but he could fix that with a good ol' fashioned hug. He spreads his arms threateningly, with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Hey, mud baths extrapolate, or something." He'd clearly done ample research on the cleansing, exfoliating effects of mud baths. Really it was just fun to tease her, to watch those cheeks redden and the mix of horror and maybe a twinge of delight- though he figured it was more imagined- flicker across her face before she smiled again. He smiled back at her, only half apologetic.

He stripped down to the skin-tight, albeit somewhat thick, thermal underlay covering his bottom bits as she prepped the shower for him. "Where did you have in mind?" He asked, folding up his gear and garments, trying as best he could to minimize sullying her bathroom. She'd have lied if he'd asked about her ankle. He knew he would've were the situation reversed, so he didn't bother forcing her to avoid the truth.

"You want to take me shopping?" He deadpans. Doom! Doom in his future! Eh, probably wasn't all that bad. Tarna seemed a sensible woman. Sensible woman... Sensible. Woman; his mind toyed with the idea as like someone would try to fit a square peg in a round hole. Something just... didn't seem right.

Oh well! He handed her his soiled clothing. "You're spoiling me," not referring to the shopping trip. "I'll agree to all this if you promise not to ask my opinion on anything and let me buy you a drink when we get to the 'Inn." Frank Paszinski drove a hard bargain, he did!

"Yeah, will do.." He had a big goofy grin on his face after her kiss.
Snap out of it, man! What're you, fifteen?
He watched her slink out, found his eyes wandering a little, letting them. There was something to be said about warm, ever-so-slightly damp cotton on a girl like that. He shook his head. "Shower, my good man," he says to the steamy bathroom at large after the door clicked shut, "you have served me well."

He stripped off the last piece of his clothing and ducked inside the inviting confines of the shower. If this keeps up, he thought to himself, he'd probably do well to buy himself some decent soap. He glowered at the pure-white, feminine-looking (yes, soap too can be feminine) bar, then set to scrubbing. Maybe buy her some oils n' such while I'm out. Chicks dig that, right? Frank was good at massages- especially the ones that had a distinct lack of clothing and copious amounts of warm oil.

Scrubscrubscrub. Hey, look, he still had skin after all! Frank takes long showers. He figured, scrubbing, they'd have to come up with a pair of deadly-sounding afflictions when some fella in a lab coat discovered Frank's skin had turned to dirt, and then subsequently been scrubbed off. Wouldn't that be tragic! Epidermiscrubilitis; Dirtidermalscrubfilia; or something...

A good half-hour of scrubbing and imaginative names (and imaginative Tarna's in wet, slinky t-shirts) later, he peeks into the hallway, wondering where his clothing had gotten to.

"You're the Iron Chef, darlin'. You pick. I drink anything." He hauls only pants and shirt back on as he pads barefoot to dinner. Leaning against the wall at the end of the hallway, he watches her set drinks out. She had at least twice as much fabric on her now than she did before, but it did nothing to diminish the spectacle of watching her sashay around. The best part was she probably wasn't even doing it on purpose.

Ahhh, accidental beauty. The best kind. He captured her in the square of his fingers, like a movie director or an 'arr-tEEst'. A lucky man would have her for a wife, someday.

A train derailed at that; he lost himself in thought for a moment, trying to root out the origin of such a traitorous spark, while at the same time avoiding thinking about it entirely. Some sort of weird regret reared it's ugly head from the dark recesses of Frank's mind. So, Frank's mind did what Frank would do: He punched it in the face. Hard.

There was something to be said about being in tune with yourself. Frank was in agreement with Frank: he'd be damned or dead before he let the stupid, foolish insecurities of an old man hurt Tarna. He wondered, laughing at himself all the while, how many 'unsung heroes' had a deathly fear of being thanked for once.

He glanced at her from the depths of his self-reflections, wondering exactly how long he'd departed reality to have that little epiphany.

He steps off the wall and takes the plate, ambling over to once more attempt to take in the plethora of food. Third pass. He gave up and just piled the plate with a little bit of everything. Perhaps his tongue would succeed in cataloging everything where his eyes had failed.

He eyed the glasses of milk over on the table. Actually, it took him a long while to really identify the white drinks- what alcoholic beverage was -that- white. He laughed aloud when it finally came to him. "Thanks for all this, sweetheart," he grouses sincerely as he ambles over to the table, plate in hand.

"You measured this place out yet?" he asks, looking around at all the bareness. He wasn't an interior decorator but a soldier who lacked the mind for planning and forethought didn't last long. The shopping trip, in his mind, was like an up-and-coming Op. It was a guy thing.

He reads over the list as he munches on one of the ribs, trying not to grin too broadly at the 'bigger mattress' bit as his mind wandered. He shook his head, "Definitely got all the basics here, but where's the fifty-inch plasma to watch all the games on?" No mind the fact that Tarna probably hasn't the foggiest what he's talking about.

And he hated football anyways. Big ol' morons in pads. Wasn't even real football. Stopped when it rained or snowed too hard... wimps.

"Gonna go for the creepy wizard's tower-style? Even got stairs up here! Maybe they don't creek enough, though," he rambles.

"Yep." He moves down the list of things on his plate, 'cataloging' them one by one. "Don't get all politically correct on me," he grunts, "Normal Persons of Arcane Persuasion and Talent!" he rants before biting into some other delicious thing.

He pokes her leg back with a toe.

"It's certainly utilitarian, ay-kay-ay 'what Frank would buy'. Wait- did you just ask me my opinion? Did I just give it?! Drat. I mean- suitable punishment for breaking your promise!" he points at her with a clean rib bone, the very image of threatening! There's a bit of sauce at the corner of his mouth.

"The... bad kind.." he licks his fingers clean, glowering at her all the while. "String you up by your toenails and, uh, beat you with... soft... things." He thumbs the sauce a the corner of his mouth and licks delicious bar-b-que goodness off. "Bad stuff like that," he finishes lamely.

He nicks a cookie off his plate and chomps it, clearly still devising not-lame punishments. "Maybe you should come up with something and punish yourself. I'll, uh, watch, and be very judge-like and stoic n' stuff. Damnit I dunno how this crap works. Stop smiling!" he grins.

Frank's eyebrows rise with the young woman across the table. When he spots the coloring in her cheeks, he understands, and pushes his lips together to keep from laughing as she scurries away. He makes absolutely no attempt to correct whatever little fantasy had wormed its way into her mind at his words.

"Sure," he manages, stifling a chuckle, "let me go put my boots on." Like a good guest, he carries his plate to the kitchen for her to clean... and to get a look at those rosy cheeks and- wow, all the way to the ears! Man, must've been vivid.

Unable to help himself, he snakes his arms around her stomach from behind as she washes, and rests his chin on her head. "Something wrong?"

It was good being evil. Er, wait no, punishment, right? She deserved it. Oh who cares!

An eyebrow quirked as she abandoned the plates and leaned back into his impromptu embrace. Frank wondered after her silence, until she turned to look at him.

He knew that look. Knew it damn well, too. He'd pushed a button, a button he hadn't meant to push and one he wasn't sure she was ready to have pushed. Hell, he knew he wasn't ready to push her buttons! He abandoned the button-pushing scenario, and looked this woman square in the eyes. There was warmth and compassion and understanding in his eyes, but there was also a warning. A warning that had already passed his lips, and needn't be said again.

He turned her round, to better search her eyes. Did he really know how to love someone? His lips found hers even before he realized what was happening, his fingers tangling in her fire-red hair. A piece of him said 'yes'. A piece that was finding strength every time he kissed her...

"You still wanna go out?" he breathed with a little chuckle.