Tatum really was a mess, why was she going out alone? How did such an unassuming person always end up in the middle of such chaos? Frankie looked up at Tatum when she questioned her. "You asked for me" she shrugged, as if it was obvious, as if dead people always appeared when you asked after them.

Frankie took a drag of the cigarette before stubbing it out on the hospital nightstand and folding her arms across her chest. She had a faint smile on her lips. "That's okay. I like it here" she said honestly.

"I was watching you after the attack" she carried on. "I didn't think you would make it as far as you did. Pretty impressive. You got something to live for, or something?" She was grinning fully now, as confusing as ever.

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"Did I?" Tatum asked, still staring down at herself but lifting her head to watch Frankie crush out the smoke. She thought to say something, but she supposed it didn't really matter. When you were dead, you could pretty much butt out where ever, she figured. "I didn't.. uhm, I w-wasn't trying to bother you," she finished with.

Most of the attack was one blur, it all seemed to happen in the span for a few quick moments, and everything after that was patchy at best. She had yelled for everyone she could think of, and the dead girl was the only one who actually came. It was ironic, if nothing else. She frowned a little when the brunette stated that she didn't mind the afterlife, just letting it go. She didn't like her being here, but Tatum's opinion wouldn't change much. It didn't bring her back then, and it wasn't going to now.

She was slightly taken back at Frankie's question, and she looked up at her friend, staring at her closely for a second. Could you lie to ghosts? Didn't they know everything? She probably knew all about Mack, and for the first time in a long time, her feelings for the blonde made her feel incredibly guilty. "Y-Yeah.. sort of, I m-mean.. I already p-paid for school, so I m-might as well live," she offered weakly. "And I have.. a lot more f-friends now."

When it had been her and Frankie, that was all there had ever really been. They had spent every moment together, usually wasted in some way, but it had been nice. Not as nice as all of the friends she had now, but she missed it. If she did die, maybe she wouldn't be so sad. Drugs were probably free in the afterlife.

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A lot more friends now that Frankie was out of the picture, she meant. She supposed she had consumed a lot of the other girl's time, but at least they had fun together. Tatum never got mauled by wolves on Frankie's watch.

"Your new girlfriend isn't really taking care of you, is she?" Frankie cocked her head before lifting the bed covers up to peer at the rest of the damage Tatum had taken. She raised an eyebrow. "How come you could leave daddy for her but not for me?" Frankie had to admit, she had a lot of questions for the red head.

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Fidgeting somewhat uncomfortably as Frankie examined her, she managed to hold back a wince as she got a look at the bandages wrapped around what seemed like most of her torso. It was, again, making her feel less and less reassured about waking up. She could go back to where things were hard, where she had no family, and she was probably going to be in a lot of pain. Or she could just stay where she was, which was almost preferable.

Until Frankie started asking questions, making the redhead tense up all over in response. "S-She's not-- w-well, she is my.. and she's.. it's not her f-fault, it w-was me," she offered back weakly, not sure she was even answering the question. She was quite put on the spot, and it was easier said than done to come up with an answer. It wasn't Mack's fault at all, but Mack hadn't been there. When Frankie breached the subject of her dad, Tatum frowned.

She stared across the bed at the younger girl, pouting her lower lip out a little, her typical face when Frankie called her out. It had happened enough times while the girl was alive, she didn't know why she expected the dead version to be any different. Frankie rarely skirted around or minced words, it was part of what had made her so attractive. "I-It's not like that.. it j-just, happened, I guess. I didn't think.. well, I-I'm braver now.."

Trailing off, she chewed her lip a little. "I s-should have did it for you, I was-- I was j-just a pussy. I really.. I really like you. L-Liked you. W-Whatever. You know I did.. I still sort of.. w-well, it doesn't matter, does it? It's not like y-you waited for me, you just.. left m-me."

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Frankie's smile widened. She had missed Tatum's stumbling and stuttering, that was for. It was an endless source of amusement when she was alive. "You're braver now" Frankie echoed and nodded her head, a little pissed off to be honest. She was a million times better than that Mack bitch.

"I didn't leave you!" Frankie defended herself. Yes, she had flung herself out of her bedroom window and knew she was going to die when she hit the ground, but Tatum had always said she would follow her. "You never came after me! You always said if I did anything, you would too" she accused her with a hint of a pout. "So if you're braver now, get your coat and get a move on and come back with me" she said abruptly.

"

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"Of c-course I'm braver," Tatum insisted back, though the wavering tone and the way she still shook like a leaf didn't exactly scream bravery by any stretch. "I s-stood up to my dad, d-didn't I? I m-mean, eventually."

It had only taken eighteen years, but she wasn't going to split hairs.

Tatum was surprised how quick Frankie defended herself, but then again, it had been a long time since Tatum herself had thought about back then. She had said those things, agreed to them. She had been borderline obsessed with the other girl, maybe still was since she was having deathbed hallucinations about her two years later. When they were together, she had always felt like she couldn't live without her. But it turned out she could, and besides that, she had never really believed Frankie would do it when she was agreeing to those things. Before Frankie jumped, they had both just been over-dramatic talk.

She pouted right back at the younger girl, hesitating for a moment. "T-Together forever, whatever," she murmured half-heartedly. Those wounds did look bad, really bad, maybe it would just be easier to give up. But then she thought about Mack, and she felt some semblance of a need to hold on. "I s-shouldn't.. everybody is.. w-well, they're all here," she offered, looking towar her door and the waiting room. "Michi said I can't go with y-you.. and I d-don't have a coat."

Except, now that she looked over to the chair she had woken up in, there was a brand new coat. Plaid and as spiffy as could be. She bit her lip hard. The afterlife was convenient.

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