SHC Headquarters
Following the initial meeting in New York, and after one too many tiny bottles of bourbon at her hotel room, Frankie had called her father. It wasn't the type of conversation she'd ever expected to have, but it was one, perhaps more importantly, that she needed to have. Her father had been the one, after all, who had introduced her to Jim... and while he would never win father of the year, it had been an attempt, at least, to help her cope through a difficult time. The question on her mind, and perhaps one she might never have had the courage to ask, were she sober, was whether or not he'd known what Jim was when he had sent her to the training gym.
The answer had been... less answer, more avoidance, but it left little doubt in her mind. After hanging up, hinged on the promise to visit in a few weeks, Frankie crawled into bed and woke the following morning with a killer hang over, and a purpose she had never expected.
Some time later, she found herself in St. Louis, which as far as she was concerned was as close to Boston as a toe to a jaguar. The headquarters was swanky, a little fancy for her taste, but there were worse places, she figured, to hold a secret meeting. She was pleased upon arrival to see a few familiar faces - and as they were greeted once more by Torrin (whom Frankie found significantly less disdain for, now that they were on the same side), she took a lean against one of the rotunda pillars. They were joined following Torrin's greeting by the second member of Jim's funeral pilfering and Frankie straightened up as he addressed them, a brow quirked at his words.
A test.
She'd been pretty sure it wasn't as easy as introductions over toast points and tea. Still, not what she'd expected. But then what over the past few weeks had been? It was little matter to Frankie... She was, if nothing, competitive at heart, and whether it was a match in the ring or a game of Go Fish, she made it a point to win.
"Well... This'll be fun."
@rissa, @allyall