After she had stormed out, Frankie had made her way around the back of the house, walking through the back of the house and into the fireplace without seeing anyone but the family dogs. In no time she was stepping out of Gray's fireplace, looking harrassed. She was pretty sure Gray wasn't up to much when she had called, but still felt slightly guilty for interrupting his evening.
Brushing soot off her arms she looked up at Gray and then around the room. "Your dad isn't here, is he?"
"In the islands with Claudette." Gray eye-rolled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pajamas. "It's just me," he reassured her. She wasn't dressed for a quick visit. His eyebrows rose with his line of sight.
"You.. look nice." Unfortunately for Frankie, Gray had been drinking as per the usual, and while he wasn't drunk-- it did make him a little more prone to stupid than usual. "Are you my Christmas gift?"
"Claudette" Frankie echoed with a raised eyebrow. She was relieved, she had only met Gray's father once, but that was enough. To say he was unconventional would be the least.
Looking down at herself she shrugged, sighing. "The Prideaux annual Christmas party" she explained thn tutted at his joke and rolled her eyes. "Very funny. I already gave you your Christmas gift, remember?" She stepped out of her shoes and sunk a few inches, kicking them into a corner.
"I may have done something bad tonight" she said, explaining her sudden apperance.
"I remember," Gray replied, deadpan. He'd laughed for a second at the Justin Beiber hotpants-- and then it stopped being funny when his sister kept insisting that he loved the Beebz.
Gray turned to exit the room; rum didn't seem to do much for warming bare feet on tile. It was warmer in the rest of the house, anyway. He grinned, glancing back at her, fully expecting her to follow. "Drive your retard brother to suicide, France?"
"You shouldn't be horrible to retarded people, isn't that a line that shouldn't be crossed or something?" She was still angry at Jules, so she let the comment slip. She did follow him through the house though, pouting a little.
"I may have caused irreparable damage to my family structure" she explained a little more jokily than she was really feeling.
"Naah. Survival of the fittest or something." He shrugged. Having made it back into the living room, he turned to face her.
She was clearly upset, and though she didn't seem any worse than normal.. it was still fucking Christmas Eve. Even Gray knew that was a big deal. Shouldn't he have been like, thoughtful and shit?
"Are you cold?" He blurted out instead of something more helpful like 'what happened?'
"Well, you should probably be a nicer to the little retard and then he wouldn't give me so much shit." Frankie muttered, flopping onto the couch.
She could see Gray was struggling a little and nodded at his question, even though it was quite warm in the room. Giving him something helpful to do might even make him feel good.
Frankie doubted Gray's prowess when it came to fixing decent hot beverages, her eyes falling instead on the rum. She had started the night off drinking, why stop now?
"Or something a little more exciting" she hinted with a grimace. "And cigarettes. Lots of cigarettes." she ordered, smiling faintly.
Gray clapped a hand to his chest with a laugh. "What a fucking relief. Last time I tried to use the microwave, it blew up. Small fire and everything. My dad was pissed. off."
Having an alcoholic partier for a father made things easy. Spare glasses were in the mini-bar just to his right, and he tossed a pack of some fancy gourmet cigarette one of his dad's flings had left behind in the general direction of Frankie's lap.
"So," He sat next to her, pouring excessive servings of rum for the both of them. His tone was careful as he spoke, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Boys. They were so hopeless sometimes. The microwave incident was not surprising. Catching the pack she pulled out one of the cigarettes. It was long and thin and she rolled it between her fingers before lighting it. "I don't think you make tea in the microwave anyway" she pointed out with a smirk, which turned into more of a quivering lip as she tried to explain what had happened.
"I made an idiot out of myself. I definitely almost gave dad a heart attack, I offended some important people and I ruined my mother's antique side table" she blurted out. "That's not even all of it. I thought families were not supposed to argue until Christmas day."
Frankie took a drink herself, shivering from the taste and sniffing. "I think I might be disowned. It wouldn't have happened if Julian hadn't been such a baby-" she stopped and punched Gray in the arm. "That's for being the cause of all this! He really doesn't like it when you call him a homo."
"Hey--Ow!" Gray winced a bit and cradled his arm. Although it wasn't as if Frankie could punch that hard. "How is this my fault?" he nearly whined, pouting at her.
She pointed an accusing cigarette at him. "You made him angry! He started going on about who I can and cannot date and you know how that makes me feel, besides we haven't even dated for fucking ages. He's insane. He broke my phone!" She smiled slighty. "Okay, the phone part probably isn't your fault."
"You didn't have to tell him." Gray made a face, slouching back into the cushions of the couch. "He's got some mental deficiency. ...Or you're hiding something from me." He waggled his eyebrows at Frankie.
"I didn't tell him, he just guessed" she defended herself, swinging a cushion into his chest. She curled her legs underneath herself. "He didn't even stick up for me when dad was all 'you're a woman know your place" she added, wounded. And then she was sniffling and looking the other way, brushing tears off her cheeks.
Gray responded with a little 'oof', half smiling; though it faded the further she explained what had happened. By the time he heard her sniffling, his smile was gone and his eyebrows knit.
He certainly did have a knack for making girls cry, didn't he? Fuck, how did he never know what to do when they did, then? Why did girls have to cry all the time? He didn't get it.
He cringed a little to himself, throwing the pillow to the side."Hey," he said a little quietly, pulling her into a hug. "He's a dick. It'll be okay. ...I'm sorry."
He said that last part as if it were a bit painful-- and it probably was.
Frankie pressed her face into his chest, crying wasn't very graceful or becoming and she didn't want him to see her all blotchy and snotty. She stayed like that only long enough to pull herself together before pulling away. His top was definitely a little ruined, which in turn made Frankie laugh.
"Revenge." She said, smiling a bit. Her emotions were always so up and down that nearly as soon as it had started, the crying was almost forgotten. She downed the rest of her drink and winced.
"I'm not stepford wife material. I told dad I was going to have a sex and drug orgy. How long do you think he's going to be angry for?"
"I could see if I could get the maid to come back?" He laughed, leaning back with a sigh. He slid a tray in front of Frankie with his foot; it was obviously meant to be decorative but had been turned into a makeshift ashtray. Gray didn't own any real ones.
Though watching her smoke made him want a cigarette, and he pat down his pajamas for his own.
"That depends, is she blonde or brunette" Frankie said with more than a hint of sarcasm. She stubbed the cig out and mirrored his pose, leaning back lazily. She fished around for a lighter on the coach, chucking it in his lap and feeling a lot more sane than she had earlier this evening.
"Brunette," Gray shrugged, finally situating his cigarette and lighting it up. He looked a little bewildered when Frankie asked him if he was alone for the holiday.
"I... yeah?" He half smiled, glancing over at the TV. Macaulay Culkin was running away from a million pigeons in Central Park.
"It's not really so bad," he added quickly, side-eyeing her..
"Too bad, brunettes aren't my type" she joked. She studied her friend carefully. It wasn't right that anyone was alone for Christmas, even if it was what she would want. "What are you doing tomorrow? Can you even cook dinner?" She smirked and turned her attention to the TV.
"Damn," Gray laughed, shaking his head, exhaling smoke a bit forcefully. He didn't expect the answer to be yes, either way. He sat up and ashed his cigarette.
"I don't know. I might go see Hunter. ...Suzette said she'd check on me in the morning. It's no big deal. We don't really do Christmas in this house, anyway." He shrugged it off, pretending that everything was fine, like he always did--but more intensely bothered by the fact that Frankie didn't recognize Home Alone.
"Uh. Home Alone 2? Macaulay Culkin?" He made a slightly horrified face.
Frankie surprisingly felt a little better at the thought of Gray and Hunter spending Christmas together. At least he wouldn't be by himself. She looked puzzled at his expression.
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