@arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

-# beah

Later in the evening.

He's out on the balcony, hanging up his shirt to dry. Pants, too. He'd borrowed a temporary (and ill-fitting) shirt from Cade, but otherwise was still walking around in boxers. They didn't have anything his size. @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

There's no clothesline here. So he makes do. The suit goes on a hangar. That's hooked over the railing.

Zachary pushes open the sliding door to the balcony, the shirt already flat and draped over his own hanger. He’s wearing an undershirt tucked into his slacks. There’s a chain around his neck, tucked behind the hem of the shirt. He glances at Frankie, then looks out beyond the balcony. And looks left and right to the neighboring apartments. He gives Frankie a nod, then fully steps out. @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

The door opens with a soft, rolling woosh. The evening's cool. They have a good view of the city from the twelfth floor. Frankie pauses, hand stilling briefly against hangar. He looks over his shoulder. Zachary gives him a nod. There's a chain around the other man's neck. Undershirt. He carries on. "You get the stains out?" Clk. His pants are hung to dry. @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

“Mostly.” Frankie can see that the cuffs of the shirt are still slightly pink-tinged. “Peroxide will have to do. For the rest.” He hangs the shirt up, a distance aways from Frankie’s. “Fare any better?” @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

The bottom edge of his hung shirt flaps a little in the breeze. As if the dog-eared corner of a newspaper. He smooths it down. "Got most of it out." Frankie glances towards the pink-tinged corner of Zachary's sleeves. A strand of his hair turns over the wind. Without the formalwear or the styled hair, Frankie looks uncharacteristically subdued. Like a man you might catch view of while passing through a motel. @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

“I wonder if Kinoshita has any clothespins,” he muses. Yes, Frankie could be any passing man. But he’s quite recognizable, still. Just-off-centered mole on his nose, asymmetrical eye-folds. They’re still there, no matter the hairstyle. He gazes off the balcony. Zachary, on the other hand, looks extremely ordinary, as he always does. He could be in any city, in most businesses. @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

"Kinoshita," He repeats. "You have good pronunciation." He rests a forearm on the balcony, looking over. "You been to Japan before?" @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

“Thank you,” he says. “我会说普通话。” “但。我不会日语。” Squinting, one could pretend the buildings beyond were from any city too. But not really. “No, I’ve never been to Japan.” @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

Frankie blinks, some form of genuine surprise flitting over his expression. Then, a small, disbelieving huff escapes him. It might have been a laugh. He looks towards the horizon. Zachary is hardly an ordinary man. No matter how normal he claims to appear. "That's good." He looks down. "That's good." It'd be nice to have a cold beer in his hands, right about now. He looks up. To the side. "How'd you learn?" @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

“I liked the language.” he says. “I spent six months in mainland China.” There is beer in the fridge, if you feel like stealing from your host and constituent. @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

Zachary stands there, only slightly leaned against a balcony without his typical business dress. It just changes the genre of guy he looks like. If he smoked, he’d look like another kind of man. If he leaned farther over the railing, he’d be another. Instead, his back is straight, arms symmetrical with his hands resting on the railing. Almost like a swimmer about to take a dive.

He looks over Zachary again, as if reevaluating the man in a (slightly) newer light. "Huh," he says. Not in a dismissive way, like one might use when finding a piece of wood flecking off their front gate or when moving on from an unconversationable topic. It's the sort of noise made right before a go on or a tell me more. Instead, what Zachary gets is: "You drink?" @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

“Not on the job,” he says. @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

"Okay," he says. "You're off the job now." Turning around, Frankie heads in with a pull shut of the balcony doors. @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK) -# He'll be back soon. After asking for liquor from their host.

-# life is so. Beautiful.

A minute or so passes. Then, the balcony doors push open again. Frankie pads out, feet slipping into Cade's balcony slippers as he closes the sliding door halfway behind him. He has a can of beer in one hand and a four-pack hooked in his other. Not seeing anywhere to put the four-pack, he holds the can in his hand out to Zachary in an offer. "Here." @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

“Did you just clock me out for me, Zhao?” he asks. @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

"Sure did." He nudges the can towards Zachary again. @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

He looks through his lashes, down at the can. Then up at Frankie. He takes the can, hand closing over the silvery top of it. Turns it around in his hand and reads the labels automatically. He brings the still-closed can under his chin like he’s about to drink, but the only thing touching his mouth is his own hand. He watches Frankie over it. Lifts his chin in a *go ahead*. @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

He watches Zachary a moment longer, the thin filaments in his irises briefly lighter in the dingy Cantilados sunset. There's really no drinking. His own hand now freed, Frankie digs into the diminished six-pack and draws out his own can. The rest of the drinks are set on the floor. Tss. Snap. He pops the lid. Likewise, lashes pointed down. "Kinoshita'll be fine." @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

“For tonight, maybe.” But there’s theres something in the set of his shoulders that isn’t fully relaxed, despite his words. It’s still. It’s just there. Prepared to flinch, into action, at any time, anywhere. “Tomorrow’s the problem.” @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

He doesn't do this for himself, you know? A can of beer is hardly a buzz. Hell, he can have two, three drinks and still feel sober. Frankie takes a sip, feeling the bubbles pop against the cool lid of the can before they slide down his throat. A hundred small sizzling raindrops. He looks up. Carnival. "What are you thinking?" @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

He turns back to look off the balcony once more, head dipping slightly. Closes his eyes. Crows cawing. City night life, distant honks. Sizzling of the beer nearby. His elbows rest on the metal of the balcony. “Should I be thinking something?” @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

# ZW NATION WE WIN

somebody else is on watch. Good soldiers work in shifts.

*hsssss*clk. Frankie's not a gambling man - but there's a satisfied itch that gets scratched by the sound. A small hit of dopamine from a wager that comes true. Not the question, he could say again, but he's figured out by now that Zachary has a penchant for answering questions with questions. "Nope," he says. "You're off the clock." His hand resting over the balcony and his fingers around the beer can, he lightly taps the bottom of it against the railing twice. "So, what were you in China for?" @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

He hums, lips flattening into a line. “You’re making me have to think of an answer.” Metal, cool with condensation, touches his lower lip. “I studied abroad.” He does have an answer. “…Is there another question you’re trying to get to, Frankie?” he asks quietly. Every one of their conversations thus far has been… more of an interrogation. @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

"That all you think I do?" Frankie dips his head down, arms still against the railing, shoulders pushed up higher than his nape, lips curling wryly over open air. He exhales. "I have a bad track record, huh?" He takes a sip of beer. "...no. You're off the hook." @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

“Maybe,” he says. “I don’t know what else you do.” He answers slowly, still paced to an inaudible rhythm. “Your questions have been reasonable,” he says. “Mostly.” The hand toting the metal can makes a small circle in the air, swishing the liquid. “For a concussed man.” @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

-# has zw actually drank anything yet. Or is he being fake and coquette.

-# can you be so nice to him rn

-# yes sir

"You think I'm reasonable?" Frankie's brows lift teasingly. That wasn't exactly what Zachary said. He knows it. "Anyways, I'm not that concussed anymore." He juts the bottom of his can towards Zachary. "You gonna keep edging that beer or are you gonna drink it? It's not going to get any wetter." @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

-# You said get his ass im getting his ass

-# wepy if i pass ojt j pass out

-# ITS OK. IT HAPPENSSSZ

“Your questions,” he corrects, mildly. He looks down at the beer, sizzling merrily, then to the side at Frankie. His lips purse. “I prefer draft,” he says. Nonetheless, he puts the rim to his mouth and takes a light sip. Wet enough. He prefers dryer, too. It’s quite fizzy in his mouth. He swallows. It prickles a bit. He glances over his shoulder again, looking up to Frankie’s, supposedly not that concussed anymore head. Still with one elbow propped, his upper body shifts in closer, towards Frankie. He peers up into the yellow-green specks and black pupils as if he’d find the answer to that most furtive question of Frankie’s concussive state. Then, quickly, out of nowhere, he snaps his fingers mere centimeters from the face, right between his eyes. …Watching for a blink and pupillary reflex, of course. @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

-# ZZZZZZZZ IIIEEPTOO

Frankie doesn't shy away from the scrutiny, his lips still pressing idly to the corner of his beer can as Zachary leans in. It's sort of uncharacteristic for the other man, but he waits to find the impetus behind the action.  A snap. Frankie snatches Zachary's fingers out of the air, his grip wrapping tight for a brief moment. The beer in his can jostles, and a plip echoes against the side of the aluminum.  -# For observation: He hadn't blinked, despite the proximity of the snap. -# There'd been a pupillary reflex.  He raises an eyebrow, looking unamused. @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

-# Was it typical speed? And the same for both eyes?

> Reply to: @Zachary Wixom (@arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)) > -# Was it typical speed? And the same for both eyes? -# How closely are you looking?

🎲54

-# Hard to tell. Your fingers are being squeezed. Nothing particularly odd had jumped out at you. Maybe it's like Frankie said: he's no longer concussed. He's certainly behaving less concussed. @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

It’s a bit distracting. “Ouch,” he says. @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

He lets go of Zachrary's fingers, then - with his leaned back head shifting into a more normal position -  "What was that for?" Raised eyebrow. @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

“Reflex test,” he says mildly. His fingers flex, pinky to index. He also shifts back to his original position at the balcony. “You are doing a lot better.” @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

"Mm," Frankie agrees, talking into his can. He's holding it by the rims "See? Head's all good." He fixes himself right up. He's used to it. "What about you?" Doesn't specify for what. @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

-# because I think it's funny I'll reveal that if he thinks he actually did zw a booboo he would have offered to kiss it better but meant it like only 20%

kiss it better?

Why are you focusing on that in character

“Sure. I wouldn’t know if you sustained memory loss. Or long term cognitive differences,” he says. “What about me?” Do specify. @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

"I'm used to head hits," Frankie says completely assuredly, as if that was a thing that was supposed to inspire confidence in his head health.  "The guy earlier." Another sip of beer, his hand over the railing. The sky is dyed the color of mango juice. "Didn't make it." @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

“That makes sense,” he responds. Then glances to the side, eyes heavy lidded. “You could have been born a super genius.” There’s a bit of reflected sun coming off of the west-facing windows. Orange, yellow. “He didn’t. He didn’t stand much of a chance.” @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭

"*What?*" Frankie says, his breath huffing out soft and disbelieving. The corners of his mouth pull in a wry smile. He looks out to the obscured sunset. "Yeah, that's not what my teachers said." Another sip, and his can of beer lowers against the railing. He's halfway done now.  Frankie sticks his tongue against the side of his mouth. "You knew that." Lifts his hand, takes another draught. Leans one elbow against the railing, but then turns his torso to face Zachary. "Tried to save him anyways." @arte | z.w. (long. THREAD BREAK)

“Just one possibility,” he says. “Head hits aren’t good for you,” he explains. Zachary takes his second, very slow sip of beer. And then swallows. “Kinoshita allowed me to,” he says. “Try.” “I decided to try,” he continues, evenly. “And then he died.” Zachary confirms. Then turns, meets Frankie’s eyes once more. His gaze is slightly worn, but no more than any other day, no less attentive. He holds the can between two hands now, thumbs crossed behind it. He waits for Frankie to elaborate. @Zai is BACK. | Frankie 🌭