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[never_francesca]

You’ve reached Commander Cook. Leave a message and I will respond shortly.

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[never_francesca]

[She pours out an equal measure into two glasses, placing one in front of him.]

Here. This will put hair on your chest. Or burn it off. Either way.

[There's no mirth to it, but it's a thing to say, as she thinks.]

1/2

[cephalopunk]

[After a moment, he lowers his arm to look at the glass. Ugh, whiskey...

But whatever, fuck it.

He nods and takes the glass, tossing it back—]

2/2

[cephalopunk]

[—fuck that was a horrible idea.

At least he manages to swallow most it down, even if he's coughing and gagging after, arm coming up to cover his mouth.]

[never_francesca]

[She downs hers with a slight grimace, but at the kick, not the taste.]

Good lad. Now.

What are we going to do, hmm?

[cephalopunk]

[It takes him a moment to recompose himself. When he does, he leans back, already starting to feel a headache coming on.

He looks at Franky for a moment, then shakes his head.]

...I don't know. Isn't that your job?

[Doling out punishments when he misbehaves...]

[never_francesca]

Yes. And I will.

But what we're discussing is what you realize you did wrong, and what you think needs to happen now.

[cephalopunk]

[A slow breath out. He looks down for a bit.

He's quiet for several moments, deep in thought. After a moment, he draws in a deep breath, and looks back up at Frankie.]

I will apologize to Sweeney, establish that I meant no harm, and... for both our sakes, it would be better to refrain from all communication from now on.

[never_francesca]

[And some of the tension seems to magically disappear from her shoulders. It's a mature, well-reasoned plan.]

I might give it a bit of time, but that's a reasonable approach.

[cephalopunk]

[He glances away.] I don't intend to contact him until I feel reasonably sure he'll be done with his death toll.

[And that will be about a week or so after his revival.]

[never_francesca]

[She nods.]

A good start. Even after that, remember to ask permission first - goodness knows he might not want much to do with you, obviously.