2019-10-15 - How to Build a Life (For Dummies)

After a long night seeing the sights on the boardwalk, Greg asks Frankie to take a walk on the beach with him. He walks along, burdened by an enormous stuffed bear that he absolutely cheated to win her. Throughout the night, he's had a slightly nervous, distracted air to him, and it only increases as he walks along the beach with her. He keeps repeatedly shooting hooded glances at her and fiddling with something bulky in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He guides his steps along a path that keeps them away from other people. After the crowd at the boardwalk, he wants to feel more alone together with her than not. Just now, he looks over at her with a nervous expression. He draws breath to speak, then hesitates, covering the hitch with a smile and an "I love you, babe. You having a good time tonight?"

The sights on the Boardwalk are never very far from Frankie's front door, but that's a bit different then actually going out to enjoy them. It's always just been something watched from the front windows of the shop for the most part, so the novelty of the evening seems to have covered up most of his nervousness.

Until he starts to lead her away into the darkness, and the solitude of the beach. Which, considering some of the shit they've talked about it might not come as a complete surprise when she asks, "Are you going to kill me out here now?" Of course, she follows that right up with a response. "I love you, too. Tonight was fun, not sure how Scratch is going to feel about Mr. Snuggles, though."

"Yes," Greg answers deadpan, shifting his grip on Mr. Snuggles. He points towards a distant bonfire, burning low and abandoned. "I hear you're supposed to kill a voodoo priestess with fire or they just curse you. You don't mind, right?" He looks at her with a little anxious grimace, like he really hopes she can pencil in a quick immolation before the end of the night. "Don't worry. Scratch will always be our first, and I think he's going to be a great big brother. I'll be sure to set very clear expectations for his behavior. It's just a shame you won't be around to see our little family flourish." He steps over to nudge a blackened timber sticking out of the flames with his foot, jerking his head towards the flames.

"Alright then. In y'get."

"Well that is clearly where you went wrong, then. I'm not a voodoo priestess at all." Frankie shakes her head in almost a disappointed way, but then she is heading towards the bonfire anyways, "Alright...you just promise to take good care of Scratch, that is all that I ask." She reaches up to start twisting her hair into a bun, because before lighting oneself on fire one really should make sure their hair is out of the way.

"Well..." Greg makes a big show of his indecision, before setting Mr. Snuggles unceremoniously down on the rocky beach. The poor bear tumbles over backwards to lay there, staring at the sky with a look of mute distress. "I guess if you're going to get all burned up, you might as well look pretty doing it." His eyes widen here as the full import of his words register. "That is, not that you don't. You look gorgeous. The most beautiful woman in the world." Greg blinks nervously. That 's a good enough cover, right? It has to be.

He clears his throat nervously before pulling the bulky whatever out of his pocket. "It's just I think your hand would be prettier with this on it." He blushes, poleaxed and awkward for a moment, then drops to his knee again in a position Frankie is probably just so tired of by now. Just blah, get a new trick Greg. He holds up his hand, and the object is a little white box. He cracks it open, and an expensive and beautiful-looking rose-gold engagement ring with a line of small, pure diamonds marching around its circumference shines and sparkles in the light of the fire.

"I hope it doesn't suck," he says lamely. "It... seemed like the right one. I'm sorry it's not a rubber band."

Some people need constant assurances about how pretty they are, Frankie forgets to look in a mirror for an entire day. So his quick attempts at recovery are just amusing to her, and she steps away from the fire so that she actually isn't at risk of lighting up like so much dry wood.

"My hand?" That is different, though, and when he gets down on his knee again her head tilts to the side. "Greg..." She frowns at him, noting the white box, which looks pretty much legit as far as things go. But it's the ring inside it that makes her eyes widen and she reaches forward for the box, giving him a confused look, "You actually bought a ring?"

Now it's Greg's turn to tilt his head quizzically at Frankie. His expression is totally serious, and the blush retreats from his face.

"Well of course I did. I said I would, didn't I?" He almost covers well, but there's a little bit of hurt in his tone at the last. She actually doubted him! On the heels of that miserable thought, his eyes widen and he looks up at her. Has... has this whole thing been a miscalculated pursuit of a joke? It's not a pleasant thought, and for once, Greg doesn't particularly recover. Instead he just looks up at her dumbly, his blush returning as the gears in his head grind like hell trying to push this one through the machine.

"I..." he trails off miserably, looking at up at her. Just a boy on a beach, with a ring nobody really wanted.

Poor Greg.

Frankie is either oblivious to the confusion and hurt, or planning some amazingly epic recovery of the entire thing. Either way she takes the box from him, assuming that he'll release it. Then she folds her legs so that she can drop down onto the rocky beach, turning the box around in her hands, snapping it closed so that there's no risk of them having to hunt around on the ground for it because she's fidgeting. Eventually the box gets opened back up, and she pulls the ring out to look at it and not just the box.

Ever have those creepily one-sided uncomfortable silences? Guess what, this isn't one of them. Frankie looks honestly uncomfortable as well. Not because it's a joke that has suddenly become real, she doesn't look exactly like she's going to blurt out a no and run away. For one, sitting makes running a little less elegant of a solution. Two, well she holds the ring out towards him, "Will you put it on for me?"

Greg lowers his one ridiculously out-cocked knee, folding his legs under him to settle his weight back on them. The hard, irregularly-shaped rocks underneath that press into his shins are a more distant concern than Frankie and the ring, and he chooses to focus on the latter pair. Like really focus, because he's doing one of those neat Greg stares where he would appear to be attempting to read her soul, and perhaps divine what her parents ate for breakfast on the morning of the day she was conceived. Watching her face like a hawk for any of the things he dreads to see there.

Oh, but she wants to put it on. This is a good sign, and Greg starts to breath right around the same time he realizes that he'd not been. His hand shakes as he reaches out to gingerly (heh) pluck the ring from her fingers... and then he grins as he sticks it onto the end of his own ring finger. "I don't think it fits," he observes lightly. Who got the jokes? Greg got the jokes. Nobody said they'd be good ones.

He slides the ring back off with a sheepish grin, his free hand reaches out to hold hers steady, and he moves to gently slide the ring onto that slender finger. Here comes the part where she... what? Punches him in the eye with the ring and calls him a tool?

No punching, and no calling people names. Instead she just watches him now as he goes through everything, a thin smile offered in response for the joke. She does, at least, appreciate a good joke.

But then that other shoe drops. When that ring is on her finger she glances down at her hand, spreading it out as she watches the firelight play off the facets in those stones. "You shouldn't have bought this."

Fucking shoes. Amirite?

Frankie takes a few moments to enjoy looking at the ring on her hand before she's starting to work it back off her finger, frowning about the entire thing, "You kept the receipt, right? We can go return it, and find something less expensive." She has no idea how expensive it was, but she's pretty sure that it's a lot more expensive then a rubber band.

'You shouldn't have bought this' brings a momentary, crestfallen look to Greg's face. But then she goes on, and that expression slowly recovers its equilibrium, resolving into his usual mischievous grin. Trouble!

"I didn't keep..." he starts, then looks at her and swallows. "That is, it wasn't... that... huh." Huh indeed. Lying to Frankie, Greg? Is this really the time and place for beginning that particular tradition? Greg looks down at the rocks for a second to clear his mental cache, so to speak, and decides that it sounds like a really dumb idea. He chews his lip awkwardly as he looks back over at her.

"....okay. So, it was kind of expensive." He reaches out to gently grab her hands, stop her taking it off. Not with any firmness; he's not about to start manhandling her, and if she really wants to persist, he'll 'let' her. Homie don't own the lady! His mind races, and his grin flickers as he settles on what he thinks might be a pretty good riposte. "I don't want our daughter to inherit trash some day." Frankie might not think she's good enough for that ring, but what about their unborn children? What about them, Frankie?

Yeah, don't start lying to Frankie, Greg! She could go and have the thing appraised, after all. She knows people.

Not that it looks like she probably would, but when he admits that it was kind of expensive there is a small flicker of a frown. But she doesn't keep trying to take it off, instead she glances down at it, twisting it around on her finger as she thinks. About the children? Probably not. But that worried expression is clear as she does that thinking, "We can't afford this."

First things, we is a good sign, right? Second, considering she confessed to inheriting a chunk of change from her dead deadbeat dad, it might really make one think about just how used to counting pennies she might actually be.

Greg's lips purse crookedly, and he adjust his position to get his shins off those goddamn rocks. Settling down on his ass in the rocky sand, he splays his legs out, committing a most foul example of the dire manspreading.

Rubbing at his shins, he looks over at Frankie, and his expression hardens a little bit. Not cold or mean; not that. Just stubborn. Stupid stubborn, in fact, which is a very special kind of stubborn, his brows drawing down like the closing of a heavy window blind.

"I got shot to make that money. I don't owe it to the Boss. I don't owe it to anybody. I'm making my payments. So it was mine, and I did what I wanted to do with it." He hesitates, looking at her shyly. "I should still have enough left over to pay for a wedding. I want you to have a special day, with a venue and nice decorations and stuff, and a white dress we didn't buy on a Sunday." Or a black one, if there's a killer garment sale on a Sunday, for some reason.

There are certain things that can be argued with, and certain things that can't be argued with. The thing here that she can't argue with is his statement that he did what he wanted to do with it. It was his money, his choice. But what she can argue over is the wedding portion of things, and it looks for a moment like stubborn might get met with stubborn.

But instead she just goes with a Frankie tactic, "When you were a kid, did you ever dream about what your wedding might be like?" She has no idea if he did. Normal kids do. She might never have, though, because she doesn't quickly volunteer any kind of visions from her own childhood.

Manspreading or not, she scoots herself over to his side, her arm moving to curl around his as she leans over to rest her head against his shoulder, her hand sliding down so that she can slide her fingers through his.

Greg grips that hand, and his other hand reaches out caress her cheek with the back of his fingers lightly.

"I don't think I ever did really. I don't think it's the same for boys." He shrugs loftily. "I kinda just show up, say some words and get a kiss, right? It's like, really your day, I think." He grins, looking at her sidelong. "The wedding night's more my jam."

He doesn't leave it at that non-answer, though, looking into the flames while he thinks. "I don't really know that many people that would come to my wedding. My boy Graham made me promise not to do it without him. I'm sure Grant and Daisy will want to be there too. That, uh... that might be it for me. How about you?"

"I never thought about it." Frankie shakes her head before she looks upwards at him, brows furrowing, "It never seemed like a thing that'd happen, and I never...dreamed. I knew what was in my future, I thought. I was going to be like my mom, do what my mom did...plod along the same path my whole family has." Pause. "I assume. I never met my grandparents, and mom didn't really talk much about them either. But the psychic shit had to come from somewhere, right?"

It's a whole, big, deep mystery, her family. "I'd be fine just...going and signing things down at city hall."

Not only would that be cheaper, but it'd solve the issue of who ti invite, too. Because she shakes her head, "Elias, maybe. I guess I could invite my half-sister, but...I don't even know her. You told Graham? That means Felix knows by now, I bet."

"We weren't going to be able to keep it a secret," Greg says, but he says it quietly, and with some tension. At length, "I don't know why he would care. At the end of the day he still gets paid. Hell, it's probably better for him, really. He's got me right where he wants me. Not a fuckin' chance he'd ever listen to some shit about a light month or a lean season from my ass. So he'll expect me to make sure our note is paid in full every time, I'm sure. If he's got something to say about it, he won't be shy."

He thinks about it a minute, and frowns thoughtfully. "It makes it harder for him to get rid of me on a whim. He knows there's somebody that'll raise a yelp about it now. Maybe that makes me more risky, too. I know... a lot." He pitches his voice very low indeed. "He knows I do. So I don't know how he'll act, but I'm not gonna roll over." He squeezes her hand. "I'll fight if I have to."

"I know." Frankie replies with a nod, and she did know. It's hard to hide shit, especially when there is paper work and stuff. "I just..." She trails off, frowning a moment, "You know, I don't know. I guess I just didn't want him to be able to hurt you over it."

Like not accepting light months. Which she just shakes her head, "No. I'll pay what I owe him, that isn't your bullshit to carry. That's the bullshit my mom left, the stupid bitch." She doesn't actually sound mad about it, just tiredly resigned to the fact her mom left her holding the bag. "When I get my money from my dad, I can pay him off." Despite her constantly pointing out that he will never be done paying his debt, she seems confident that she can pay off hers. Different circumstances, after all.

"Greg." She glances over at him, twisting around to face him, a hand reaching up to grab the front of his shirt, pulling him towards her so that she can press a hard kiss against his mouth before whispering, "You wouldn't be fighting alone...but I don't think we'll have to. I really don't." She gives him another kiss before resting her forehead against his, "So how'd your friends react to the news?"

Greg shoots a doubtful look towards Frankie at first. "Until that comes through and you can pay him off..." He doesn't bother to finish the thought; after all, she's the smart one here. "I really think he'll be cool. At least I hope he will. I make that motherfucker a lot of money. I guess I just keep making that happen until I can figure out a different way."

Then Greg says something really stupid. Perhaps delightfully stupid; one supposes it's a matter of perspective. "When you've got that money and you're ready to pay, I'll make him take it. I won't take no for an answer. He's going to let you out. He's got his claws in me, probably forever, and I guess it my own damn fault. But you... you get out."

He leans into her kiss, purring low in his throat. Maybe he does belong in the animal hole after all. "Well, Grant seems to like you," he says. "Graham was... Well, he didn't get at first. But I think he does now. I think I explained it right. He made me promise not to elope to Reno." Greg eyeshifts. "Not that... nevermind. Anyway, I haven't caught up with Daisy or Robert since the big question and the bigger answer."

"Doesn't get the marriage thing, or what?" Frankie seems more curious than upset about what possible objections Graham might have had to it, because she can probably list the logical ones herself. "Did you want to elope to Reno?"

Valid option, it seems. She seems fine with the eloping, at least. Which, considering she just said she'd be happy to go to City Hall here and sign things, why wouldn't she also be okay with Reno? Doesn't matter, because she's giving him another kiss or two instead of waiting on answers to things. More focused on the physical touching, maybe in order to try and fix some of the emotional damage she did during her first rejection of the ring.

Greg kisses Frankie back, letting go of her hand long enough to wrap his arms around her. "I think he just thought it was kind of quick, and that maybe I wasn't in it for the right reasons. We were fast., and me and Graham aren't talk every day or even talk every week friends. I was telling him about a fiancee he didn't know I had met, I guess. Anyway by the end of the conversation I convinced him I was, and that was that. He just wants to be there. He was at Elma with me, we've been through some shit. He's... a friend." What a world, eh?

As to Reno... "No. No, I don't. I like that we're always in a hurry to be together, but we're coming to place where it's time to slow down now, dig in and enjoy it, I think. You deserve some right things in your life, like a real ring, and a real wedding. I don't want to go forward any other way." There's not a shred of doubt in his tone here. "I need to show you from the beginning you mean enough to me to make things special, and important." He looks down at the ring on her hand, and he smiles. "I like that way that looks on you."

"It is fast." Frankie could argue it, she really, really could. Point out that they've been waiting their whole lives, or some other ridiculously romantic response. But instead, she just allows for it, that it was fast. "I won't ever regret that it was fast, though. Never." The look she gives him is openly pleading, praying for him to agree, to understand, that she will never regret it. Even if one of them ends up in the grave with the animals.

"I love you." She shakes her head a bit before she glances down at the ring on her hand, twisting it around a fraction with a push of her thumb. "Real. Real wedding, real ring. Those are...expectations that society has taught us we have to hit for this to be real, yeah?" She glances up once more, her expression serious, "I don't need a real wedding, or a real ring for me to know that this is real. Or special and important. I've...never felt like this before, and you already do so many things to make me know you feel the same way."

Greg leans over to kiss Frankie on top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair. "No regerts," he tells her, deadpan. "I love you. I'll never regret an instant of how we got here. But we're here now, and I love you enough to want to keep you in my life. To want to make that life something to be proud of, at least in some kind of way."

He shrugs uncomfortably, leaning back a little, as he builds his thoughts. "It's about setting down a real foundation. We're out here talking about kids... I don't want them to have to do what we do. At least for damn sure not what I do." Another uncomfortable, self aware shrug. "I don't know. There's something about it I don't know how to say. Like..."

He really digs deep into that drug-addled brain of his. "It's like this. Frankie today can deal with it and she's happy. But maybe Frankie in twenty or thirty years is going to look back on this and wish things had been done right. I know old man Greg would regret it if he didn't get everything he could out of this moment in time."

"You think that you'd regret it is we just went down to city hall and filed the paperwork?" Frankie is quiet when she asks the question, not looking upset by it, not even sounding upset. Just listening, very carefully, curious about the entire thing, mulling over this brand new possibility she never thought about before.

There is eventually a shake of her head, and she reaches a hand up, catching one of his curls to twist it around her finger before she gives him a soft kiss before pointing out, "They won't have to do what we do, and when Felix is ready to be out of the game....we'll figure out a way for you to retire, too." Assuming there isn't chances for that sooner, or that even when Felix retires (or dies) that there is a way out. "But...we're not raising kids in a trailer. Or even my apartment. If you are wanting to do things right, then they deserve a backyard they can play in, with a dog....or a cat."

Well here's a new consideration, and it sets Greg back -- literally; he leans back, bracing his hands on the rocky ground, to look over at Frankie. "I guess that's good point. I don't know if I got house money. What the fuck does a house even cost?" He shrugs, a little, picking up a small stone to fiddle around with it aimlessly, tossing it in the air and catching it repeatedly. "I mean like, I got my trailer through the bank and shit. I got on-paper, legit income from the dispensary. I guess I could like... buy a house? What's a mortgage payment anyway?"

He gives a slow, sly grin. "A couple grams of coke? Ten grams? Twenty?" He gives an unconcerned shrug, tossing his rock out into the waves with a splash. "Anyway, not that fuckin' hard, right? Baby wants a house?" He moves quickly, climbing to his feet, and turns to hold a hand down to her. "Let's buy a fuckin' house." He pauses, smirking. "Can I have a meth lab in the basement? Or is that too much?"

"I didn't mean that we needed to go and buy a house now." Since breakneck speed is their jam it probably should get said before he ends up bringing her a house for a present. "Just, you know...someday." She reaches up to take his hand when he holds it down to her, hauling herself up to her feet, "No meth lab in the basement. You can have one in a trailer, or something."

One hand reaches down to brush sand off her clothes before she moves towards him, stepping in closer before she leans towards him. Just to lean. "If you really, really want to do this with a real wedding and stuff, I guess we can have a real wedding and stuff."

Greg looks down at the Frankie leaning against him, and lets her kind of lean there for a bit, looking down at her with a nonplussed expression. "I guess," he also says, without much enthusiasm. He does break into a stupid grin, though, so it's unlikely he'll be making his fortune playing poker in the new casino. He wraps his arms around her, hugging her close and arching his back to lift her feet up off the ground for second, squeezing her tight before setting her back down on her feet.

"House shopping," he reflects, as he reaches for her hand and turns his feet towards the parking lot where the Van of Doom awaits. "We don't need to hurry, I think, right? Like it seems like this would be another good place to slow the fuck down and get it right, maybe."

"Is that because you're afraid you're going to change your mind?" Frankie glances over at him when he mentions there being another place to slow down, a faint frown appearing. But it melts away fairly quickly before she gives his hand a squeeze, but before she follows him back towards the van she stops to grab the oversized stuffed teddy bear, tucking him under her arm. Then she starts to follow him off the beach and towards the parking lot, thoughts turning inwards for the duration of the trip.

"Or did you mean house shopping? Or wedding? Which thing are you saying we should slow down on?" Not that either one being taken slow is a bad thing, but the sudden brake throwing is having an affect on her and it's starting to show.

Greg gives a look of chagrin when he realizes he almost left the newest addition to the family behind. He's pretty sure that won't come up in a later discussion. Anyway, he turns a crooked grin to Frankie at her question.

"Definitely the house. I don't want to buy some piece of shit that falls apart a year later, or that we grow out of. Ya know? We should take our time to pick the right place. We should get married like, next week. Is that enough time for people? I've never really seen it done from the inside, so to speak." He turns to get in her way, poking at her ticklish belly. "Do you want to go home and look at wedding shit online? Maybe there's a place we can get really soon. that you like."

The tickling causes her to stop, then step to the side and start trying to block with the teddy bear, "Stop!" It's got no conviction in it, but a lot of laughter. Both from the tickling, and his decision that next week should be the when.

"I've never exactly seen a wedding from the inside either...but. Not that this is wedding related, but, Elias said I should bring you to the store some time so that he can meet you." She keeps the bear hugged to her chest to block future tickling attempts, "As for looking at wedding shit? Sure...dress, flowers, place. That's what we need, right?"

"All those things, and more," Greg answers with a smile. He gives a couple of ineffectual pokes at the teddy bear before giving a dark mock frown and turning to start back towards their ride. "I gotta get a tux. I can't stand there looking like an asshole. And then we gotta have a party. I'm pretty sure the party's the most important part."

"Who's Elias?" Greg asks, reaching for her hand again. "Is he another person that knows shit about shit around here? Or somebody that wants to buy some drugs?" It's an odd, mixed bag of categories Greg puts people into, it seems. "He's got a store?" Greg prompts, turning to look at her.

"So party, place, tux, dress, flowers?" These are all important things, and she might have to get the order of things right before the big day. Like does the party come first? Since it's the most portant part.

"Elias is my best friend...his family owns a bookstore, he works there. Umm." She thinks about the rest of things for a moment, "Yes, and no? Maybe. Might want drugs, never can tell."

Greg gives an easygoing shrug. "If I like him I'll hook him up and won't charge him. That'll be our little secret code." Arriving at the van, he walks over to open her door first, holding it for her with a smile. "After you, gorgeous," he says.

Once he's got her situation, he walks around to the other side of the van, climbing up and in, and digs around in his pocket for the keys. He turns over the ignition and the radio blares to life, a Halsey song screaming from the speakers, incredibly loud. He leaves it that way as he pulls the van around towards the road. He stops just before driving out onto the road proper, looking over at her. "So where are we headed? Your place or mine?"

"Yours." Frankie replies after a little while, nodding back in the direction of the Boardwalk, "If we were going to my place we could have just walked from the beach." She twists around, setting the teddy bear behind the front seats, where he'll be safe.

The music gets turned down, and then she shifts around to face him, "You remember when I said that my only long term anything was my best friend? That is Elias."

Greg heads the van towards Huckleberry then, and once he's out into the flow of traffic he turns to look at Frankie. "Oh yeah, I do remember that," he says after a quick effort to drag the memory up. "So you guys have been friends for a long time," Greg reflects. "Is he gonna have a problem with me, you think?" He turns his attention back toward the road. "Some kind of misplaced protection bullshit?" He flits a grin towards her. "Would've been smart, probably. I suppose I should try to make a good impression and shit."

It doesn't take very long to get back to Huckleberry. Gray Harbor's not that big, after all. Greg gives his attention mostly to the driving along the way, although he does briefly rap along with a song on the radio until he fucks up a few words in and shuts up with an embarrassed look towards her. In short order the van is parked, and Greg hops out to hurry over and open the door for her.

"Prot..." Frankie just stares at that question before she starts to laugh, "No. Elias is about as prone to being protective as...I don't know. He's more likely to hide behind me than anything." She shakes her head a fraction, reaching down to pick Mr. Snuggles up, setting him in her lap, "But yeah, we've been friends for ever...Like, a really long time. I told him about you already."

When they arrive, and he parks then comes around to open her door, she hops out of the van, shifting the bear out of the way before she reaches a hand up to his face, "Because I don't want there to be secrets, and I think it's important to make it clear. Elias and I would sometimes sleep together. But not since you, and not ever again."

Greg blinks a few times at Frankie over her hand on his face. Blinks a few more. And nods. He leans in to kiss her, pulling back with a smile. "I trust you baby. If that's how you say it is, that's how it is." He pauses for a second, giving her a careful look. "And he's just... chill? NBD?"

He doesn't stand around to wait for the answer, but walks up to the trailer, opening the door. Once again here he holds it open for her, waiting. "I mean. There's no like... feelings? Weird shit?"

"No." Frankie shakes her head at that, tucking the bear under her arm as she follows him towards the trailer, "For one, he's as fucked up and broken as we are...for two, he prefers guys anyways." She stops just shy of walking through the door, lifting the bear up to smoosh the muzzle against his cheek, "He's likely to hit on you."

Which is probably weird, right? She then steps into the trailer, holding the bear against her, "But sure, there's feelings. But it's more like...I don't want to say family, because that's going to sound weird. But it's just...familiar? Like there's none of the same feelings we have. If that makes sense?"

Blinking a few more times, Greg processes all this as he follows Frankie inside, pulling the door closed. He walks over to the kitchen table and starts dumping out the contents of his pockets; a wallet, some keys, two little orange prescription bottles, a phone, and more besides. He glances at her for a second, hesitating, before he pulls up his sweatshirt to reveal a concealed holster, holding a handgun tucked up under his left arm. He unstraps it, setting it down on the table, and carefully doesn't look at Frankie while he crosses to the bar and starts to roll a joint from a bag of weed there.

"So this dude, he swings both ways," Greg reflects while he breaks up the weed and rolls it. "I guess that's a good reason to not want to get any more serious. But I can't imagine he's stoked at this new change either." He eyes Frankie while he licks the gum of the paper, twisting the joint closed, and lights it.

"It's weird," he decides as he puffs on the joint, finally. "I'm not gonna lie, it is. It weirds me out some. But like I said, I trust you, even if I don't necessarily trust him." He holds the joint towards Frankie, coughing quietly into his hand. "Yet? Maybe? Either way, if he's important to you I'm going to have to work it out. Just... it's really not going to keep happening, right?" Whatever he feels right now, he keeps to himself. "I really don't want to share you. Not like that."

While he's busy doing things, she explores the things that he dumped out on the table, picking up the bottles and peering inside them. The gun she doesn't even blink at, but she also doesn't actually touch that, either. She might be willing to be nosy with other things, but those things that might actually explode and kill them? She respects the no touching policy there that doesn't have to be said.

"Elias? I mean. No." Frankie shakes her head at the question, glancing at him when he asks the question, "I've never seen Elias with another girl. Ever. I mean, I guess maybe he has? I don't track who he sleeps with, and who he doesn't. Most of the time. There was this one guy..." She shakes her head, moving to settle in one of the chairs at the table, drawing her knees up to rest the heels of her feet on the edge of it, "I thought there was going to be more feels between them, but evidently that didn't happen."

When he holds the joint out towards her she reaches over to take it, "It? You mean...sleeping with him? No. I haven't slept with him in months as it is." She takes a hit from the joint, then holds it out towards him, carefully blowing the smoke out, "Greg...you don't have to share me at all. In any way. I'm not interested in sleeping with anyone else. If I was? I wouldn't have said yes to you."

The bottles don't have anything too very exotic in them, at least not for Greg; little green pills in one bottle and little pink ones in the other couldn't be anything but oxycontin and oxycodone, respectively. Quite run of the mill. For Greg's part, he shoves the gun out of his way with his elbow as he settles across the table, reaching for the joint. He looks very thoughtfully at Frankie while he puffs on it.

"I got no reason not to trust you, and believe you," he says in what has to be admitted is a pretty blithe tone. Having not delivered any thuggish threats here so far, Greg the thug possesses just enough in the department of wits to know better still. "You said you already talk to him about it, right?" He holds the smoke out to her, coughing softly. "How did he take it? Was he happy for you? If you're happy he should be happy," he points out. Whilst pointing things out, helpful and otherwise, he asks her, "Did you notice I hung my sword up in the bedroom? It looks badass as fuck."

Just run of the mill. It's hard to say if Frankie can even identify what pill is what by sight, but that's okay. She's not stealing any of them, so there's no risk of accidentally taking the wrong thing anyways.

"Yeah, he was happy. Asked if you were hot, and if you made me happy. Then he started talking about this British dude that he was seeing, or I guess wanting to see?" She looks a little more fuzzy on that. "But he took it like Gina took it, surprised. But not unhappy." Not to say that Gina herself was happy, Gina was Gina, but it seems to go with how people accept the rather shocking news that Frankie went from -20 to 100 in a night.

"I didn't see the sword...I'll look here in a little while."

Greg takes his news with pursed lips and a shrug of his shoulders. "It sounds like maybe he'll be alright then," he says, and keeps the joint if she doesn't want it, puffing away at it contentedly and settling back in his chair. "I know some dudes that seem like the type. Maybe we could help him make that love connection." He pauses, before offering sagely, "A little molly never hurts either." He looks over at Frankie suddenly as if he's had an idea, a brilliant, devious idea.

"...hey babe," he says brightly, then puffs on the joint. "We should drop ecstasy together some time." He gives her an eyebrow-waggling, openly perverted look.

"Not sure if he's looking. But sure." Frankie replies with a laugh, reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone like she might go as far as texting Elias to see if he wants them to drug some guy for him so that he can get a boyfriend. But, she doesn't, instead she sets the phone on the table, sliding it towards him, "My passkey is 3394."

It's like, a huge show of trust, right?

"I've never done ecstasy." Speaking of things that really do need trust. "But if you want to, we can. I've heard that it makes sex really amazing, which I'm not sure how that'll change from normally."

"I've only ever bea... uh, been alone on it," Greg says, but with only like half a mind. He looks at the phone on the table, and his hand with the joint in it reaches out to touch the phone with the tip of a finger, shifting it slightly. He looks at it, then looks at her, and slides the phone back over towards her. "I love you baby. I got no reason why I think I need to look in here." He retracts his hand to puff on the joint, eyeing her.

"It makes everything feel fucking amazing. You could lose the whole goddamn night just like... rubbing the couch. First-hand story. You kind of wack out a little bit, but in a good way, if you set it up right. It would be a locked in the bedroom night." He looks at her, a distinctly naughty look, and he seems to really like this idea. "Not that I'm saying we need it. But it would be fuckin' wild, together."

There is a look at that, "Only ever been alone, huh?" Frankie looks like she might be in disbelief, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips before she reaches over to take the joint from him. "You can look if you want, or just play Pokemon Go on it." She shrugs her shoulders a bit, smiling, "Or never look. I just want you to know that I'm not hiding anything from you, even if it's an ugly truth."

"Locked bedroom because you don't want someone bothering us, or we'd start wandering around looking for things to pet?" She gestures back towards the Boardwalk, "We could just stay at my place for it."

Greg shrugs at Frankie. "No, it's the truth. I've never had a girl in my life I trusted enough. I don't know if you picked up on it but I had kind of a fucked up relationship with my mother. And my sister." He looks at her like he'd like to say more, but he doesn't.

Instead he stubs the joint out in the ashtray, nodding to Frankie. "Yeah, your place is probably the smart idea on that. We might molest my roommates together if not." Grabbing his phone and pressing the 'home' button to show Frankie how it just opens up. "It's deals and business. You can read it if you want. Graham's the only person I really talk to." He yawns suddenly, stretching. "Holy shit I'm tired. What fucking time is it anyway?"

"How fucked up?" If he wants to say more, she's more than willing to prod him about it, even if it is gently. When he offers his phone over she reaches for it, picking it up. However, instead of reading anything on it she clicks on the camera before she lifts it up, then she reaches for the hem of her shirt, then her bra before taking a picture of herself.

Sure, they are in the main room of the trailer, but it's just them. Of course, she tugs everything in place pretty quickly after the picture, then she slides it back towards him. "Not sure, you want to go lay in bed?"

"Like my mom was a useless piece of shit addict that did nothing but lay in her room, and like my sister who fucking bailed into some dude's life as soon as she was old enough. I've been on the streets, on my own, since I was fifteen." If Greg has more to say on the matter, the show with his phone is enough to shut him up. He grabs the phone to take a look at that picture. "Yeah, I think I do," he tells her, looking at her over it. "I think I could show you from some better angles."

"My mom was a con artist that slept with men for their money, and bailed when I was sixteen, leaving me to pay her debt to Felix." Which either that was a huge loan, or she really is barely making payments. She unfolds herself from her seat, moving over to him, her hands sliding into his hair before she leans down to give him a kiss, "I'm never going to leave you. You'll have to kill me and bury me with the animal sacrifices to get me to leave."

"I hate how that motherfucker looms over our whole goddamn life," Greg cuts in, but then Frankie's there, and he doesn't know if she realizes how much it makes him melt when she fucks with his hair like that. So he kisses her back, then leans his face into her belly, just below her breasts.

"You're a people," he insists, his voice and words muffled by her shirt. "You get a people hole." He kisses her through the shirt, then rises up from his chair to lead her into the bedroom. "I think we need a rule about saying his name. At least in the bedroom."

"Like, all talk about him when naked in bed?" Because who really wants to? Wait. They have! And maybe to help set that rule in stone she stops outside the door, "No more mentioning his name in the bedroom."

Then she follows him into the bedroom, "Show me your sword?"