Planning

Who: Doc, Frank, and Kurt
Where: Doc's garage
When: late afternoon

The calls had been made, both of Doc's 'associates' reached, and now he was just waiting. Doc had cleaned up the garage space a bit, put away loose tools, chilled a couple of six packs of good dark lager and a bottle of whiskey, and even emptied the ashtray in anticipation of both Kurt and Frank's arrival. He was giving them each time, figuring Frank would need to check in on his boys and Kurt might have things to do for Natalya before either of them could make it out, but that was fine. He was curious to see how the two men would take to each other, as well as what each might think of the information he'd dredged up in the wake of the werewolf attacks.

Kurt, he expected to take it like any other job. Just facts to be considered. As for Frank? Doc wasn't sure how the other hunter would handle knowing there were still werewolves out there, then being told to leave them alone for the moment. But Doc was playing this careful, giving Oz the time he'd promised to do whatever it was that Oz could. Sitting back with a smoke and the first beer from one of the packs in a small cooler, Doc twisted the top free and flipped the switch to let his garage door roll open. All he could do now was, as it so often seemed, wait.

Frank was the first to arrive, pulling up in his red and slightly banged up Jeep Comanche. He parked it out front and climbed on out, stretching his back and neck with all the cracking and creaking that included before heading on over to Doc's garage. He felt like an old ship sometimes, the way his body sounded when he moved his joints as God intended, too bad he couldn't just oil them up to keep them running. He'd had a drink already, hands steadier than they'd been that morning but he'd still taken a bottle with him and stashed it in the car in case they had a job to do. He nodded at Doc when he spotted him, strolling on closer and noting he was alone. "I guess I'm here early," he muttered and gave Doc two firm pats on the arm. "Good to see you, Eric."

"And you, Frank. Grab a seat," Doc instructed, nodding to an open stool at the work bench he sat at. "Beer?" he offered, gesturing with his own and taking a drink. "Kurt should be by soon, we can get down to details then." In the meantime, he was studying Frank like did most people around him. Doc didn't often muse on how separated he was from people his own age, but Frank was a good reminder. Eva'd been right; Doc was still as spry and nimble as a teenager. It was a result of his gifts, subtle arts to halt or undo the aging of his bones and muscles, to kill the chemical reactions that'd saddle him with addictions of any nature. He almost wanted to bring up Dylan again, to tell Frank that he needed to sort shit out with his son, but once again? It wasn't Doc's job. Maybe once things were official he could try offering advice, but he'd still need to step lightly.

Frank stiffly took a seat, accepting a beer with muttered thanks. It was probably a good thing Doc didn't bring up the issues with Dylan, it was a sore topic with Frank, both his boys for that matter, one he didn't take kindly to discussing. "What's the news then?" He asked once he had a beer in hand and had gotten comfortable in his seat. Of course he assumed Doc had some sort of news, the guy was connected, wasn't he? Had to be, being War and all. Not that there was a shortage of news for the average guy, after the last full moon every channel was full of talk, some reliable and some not so much.

"Not good," Doc answered, tilting his bottle back for a long swallow and grabbing a cigarette from his pack. His eyes drifted over to the stack of paperwork he had; files, personal information on the victims, and the necessary bits Doc had rounded up for Frank's new approach in life. "Got some dirt on who might be a concern next full moon, and unless someone got bit and didn't go to the hospital? I think I've caught any loose ends that might be out there." But that was dangerous thinking for sure, which was a large part of why Doc needed men like Frank and Kurt. People who could work the field and directly intervene were invaluable when you couldn't do it yourself.

"That so?" Frank asked, not daring to hope that was all of them, it certainly couldn't be; not everyone got themselves medical care no matter how serious their injury and didn't he just know all about that. It wasn't like he was the biggest costumer for the country's hospitals. "What's the game plan then?" He asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and watching Doc with a hint of curiosity in his otherwise bland expression. He was honestly not certain just what route he would personally take if he was alone in this one like he usually was. He'd never dealt with the infestation of the curse on such a large scale and with this one he was somewhat glad he wasn't on his own.

Kurt had spent a little time waiting on the cab, a service that had seemed to slow down in the past few days. He chatted a bit with the driver as they made their way to Doc's place, and found that only two or three of them would agree to work at night anymore. It wasn't surprising, and he filed the information away. Just another reason to get his own car sooner rather than later. He tipped the man well and climbed out of the backseat, waiting for the cab to drive away before he trudged up the snowy driveway, tucking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. At least there was one person in his life he could freely smoke around. He walked into the open garage with a nod to his employer, and then one to the older-looking man that was with him, that had to be Frank. "Kurt Petersen," the big German man said, extending a hand to Frank, expression stoic as usual. This wasn't going to be a social visit, he felt sure, and he'd packed Big Iron along just in case.

Frank grabbed his hand in a firm shake, nodding back at him. "Frank Alden," he said and, noting the height of the man, couldn't help but think they'd make quite the odd pair if this was going to be his new partner. Frank wasn't a tall man by far, his older son had already caught up with him and surpassed him in that regard.

Sitting back and suppressing an amused smile, Doc watched the two of them make first contact and subtly size each other up, as he thought they might. He had a good feeling about this, despite of Kurt's lack of experience in hunting, he was a highly-trained observer. And Frank was a trove of knowledge and experience that could only benefit with someone as receptive as Kurt watching his back. "Eric Martens," he said to both jokingly, offering his hands for a moment and withdrawing them, shaking his head at himself. "Kidding, of course. Kurt, you want a beer?" Doc asked, bending down to the cooler, "We'll get down to business in just a second."

Kurt gave Frank a nod as they released hands and stood back, turning his attention to Doc with the flicker of a faint smile. "Thank you," he reached to accept the beer and popped it open, finding something sturdy to lean on and taking a sip as he looked appreciative. Though he was most certainly not getting a taste for American beer, it was becoming more tolerable. But that made Doc's efforts to get him a dark larger even better. He glanced between the men, looking attentive, always ready to get to the point of things.

Kurt was a smoker, which already pleased Frank. That meant there'd be no issues with someone who disliked the habit, there'd just be good old fashion chimney guys with none of that new age hippie health talk. Whenever someone started yapping about how bad smoking was for his health, it made Frank want to light up - preferably two or three cigarettes at once. He left the talking to Doc for now, content to just sit and observe.

"Okay, so getting down to business," Doc said with a pleased little smile, digging through his paperwork and coming up with two identical short stacks, then offering one to each man. "The attacks on Friday, I've gone through hospital records for the town and the outlying areas, starting with the week before things went to hell. Got the names of everyone who got bit in the preliminary attacks, as well as the night of the full moon. The vast majority have been confirmed dead after Friday." Following the crowd, Doc grabbed a new smoke and lit up, tucking it in the corner of his mouth before continuing. "Highlighted names are unconfirmed victims. They could be alive, they could've been taken out by hunters if they changed. We're going to follow up on all of them before the next full moon. If there's survivors, no action is being taken in advance. We're just compiling intel right now."

Doc paused to grab his own copy of the paper work, tilting his beer back and draining it in a smooth swallow. "I'm also interested in how many hunters are working the field right now. Someone pulled a purge on the victims Saturday night, I don't want a repeat of that. Frank, you know the behavior to look for. Keep an eye out, and don't get hostile until every other option's been exhausted, no matter who you're dealing with." Not that he expected Frank or Kurt to callously kill someone with the curse, but it never hurt to state the obvious. "I'd like the two of you to work recon on this together, but if that's a problem? I'm sure there'll be work to do in the future."

Kurt listened carefully as Doc gave them the rundown, accepting the pack of papers but not looking at it until the man was done speaking for the moment. He always gave superiors his full attention, it was a habit that was as deeply ingrained as breathing. He balanced the bulk of the pages on one hand and licked the thumb of the other to start riffling through it slowly, eyes skimming over names and information. Intel was what he was good at, intel he could most definitely do. None of the names were familiar to him, but that wasn't saying much. It wasn't like he got social very often, after all. "No problem here," he answered the quasi-question after a moment, glancing up and over at Frank. He was used to working alone, but if the man was competent? He took no issue with partners. Especially seasoned ones, as this man seemed to be.

Frank looked the list over too and it was good to get the names all black on white since his information so far had been pretty damn limited. He'd visited the hospital the night of the full moon, done what he could with what he had but the paperwork hadn't been easy to come by. Not then nor after. Now that it was being handed to him on a silver platter it reminded him why working with others could be a damn good thing to do. He skimmed for now, nodding along to what Doc was saying. "Gotta say I ain't ever worked a job on a scale this big, Eric. Going in blind would mean a lot of casualties and you know that's not my style." He looked up, between Kurt and Doc, then nodded again. "Recon sounds like a good game plan, find out what's going on it the other corners."

Pleased that both men seemed up to what Doc was asking, he snagged a new beer and just held it for the moment, puffing his cigarette. "Only name in there that's an exception is Gabriel Winters. I've got someone else checking up on that trail, you two stay clear of it. Beyond that? Well, let's hit the angles, see if we can't lessen the scope a little." A scowl formed faintly as Doc dug through the papers again, holding up his bundle to show a page to Frank and Kurt. "Here's the first list of attacks, the initial infections that kicked things off. I'm thinking that the shifter that started this was working some kind of pattern if it was isolating the attacks like this early on. Retrace the sequence of attacks, see if there's some common ground that could point us towards the carrier." He had his theories about how the spread of lycanthropy was tied to the bigger picture, but they'd be a lot more solid if Frank and Kurt could find the source of it all.

Gabriel Winters. Kurt made a mental note of it. Hands off, check. Not that they'd be doing much hands on in the first place, but they had more than enough to work with as it was. He flipped to the page Doc indicated to look over it and nodded slightly. The first round of folks. Already he was mapping out the street addresses, grouping them together in his mind to eventually cover ground more efficiently. He probably should've brought a pen. "So we're confirming those that survived the purge, attempting to get a headcount and assessment of active hunters in the area, and hunting for pattern in these first victims?" he asked Doc, always one to break it down to it's base to make sure he understood what was expected of him.

Basic was fine and Frank waited for Doc's answer before bringing something of his own to the table. "Once we close in on the source we need to move with extra caution," he said quietly, tapping ashes off his cigarette and looking at the papers again. "A cursed wolf doesn't just lose himself in a frenzy for no reason, not this many nights in a row." There was something more sinister at work here and Frank would honestly be surprised if it turned out to be just a werewolf with a bad temper. He left that unsaid, some things didn't need to be put in words for other people to get them.

"That's exactly what I was thinking," Doc confirmed, nodding Frank's way, "And yeah Kurt, that's the plan to the letter. Start at the aftermath, find out what our concerns for next month are, and run it down to the roots. I don't think we're going to like what we find." He needed a drink for his theory, and Doc was quick to uncap his beer and take a swallow before going on. "I think it's part of something bigger. Possibly connected to the vampires, the shadows, and the caves before all of that," Doc explained, shooting Kurt a knowing look. "Frank, before you got to town, we had some issues. I know you heard about the Acherus, but on top of that? There were... living shadows. Dangerous ones. They appeared from mirrors, tried hunting a lot of us down. It made for a few long days. As for the caves, Kurt saw a little more there than me. Go ahead," he said with a nod for Kurt to elaborate as much as he could.

Kurt silently agreed that they weren't going to like what they found. He'd liked very little of what he'd found in Marquette, actually, but that wasn't exactly a secret or anything. Who did? Assuming that Doc had already gotten Frank a little up to speed on things, he turned his attention to the other older man to fill in. "There was a cave in on the group I was with," he explained in his careful accent. "We found a door carved into the stone in a chamber that looked untouched for hundreds of years. A woman we were with, the woman I live with, she is psychic. She touched the door and it glowed and opened. Behind it was a hallway that never ended, with what looked like windows all along it, of innumerable shapes and sizes. It turns out they were the backs of mirrors. We were there for days, not hungry or thirsty, but just there walking. One of the girl's boyfriend apparently was something called a Fade, and they can traverse this place. He brought us out of it. The Inbetween, I think it was referred to," he said. It was the most brief, clinical way he could sum it up, but it worked enough. It still sounded insane to his own ears.

Frank was frowning more than usual by the time Kurt was done explaining what had happened. It sounded like the universe was coming loose on the seams, the natural order coming undone. Also, a real live fade in Marquette? He'd never actually encountered one, never really went looking for them since they were usually not the big problem so much as their creators were. Plus, they were rare as far as he knew, yet here was a guy who'd met one while strolling around in another realm. People hadn't been exaggerating when they said fucked up shit was happening in Marquette and the reason why Joe wanted him to come here was becoming clearer with every passing day. It almost sounded like some of the more creative and midevil chapters from the Bible, the end is nigh and Lucifer shall walk the Earth... A deep sigh escaped him and he furrowed his brows. "You need all the men you can get, Eric."

Nodding his agreement, Doc frowned a little at Frank's assessment. "There's still more we haven't figured out, even. We went to the caves because of a dream that was hitting the local psychics, some kind of warning or message, I'm still not sure. When I was there, I found some cave paintings. Indigenous people fighting shifters, which is strange on its' own. Natural weres aren't warlike, they defend themselves. Past the paintings, we found remains and... weapons. The whole lot of it was cursed, it had an infectious rage. I sealed that cave off, but now I wonder about it all." He took a long drag from his cigarette, grinding it out and sighing his last exhale of smoke out. "We know the shadows were coming from the same place Kurt went to, the Inbetween. But I started thinking that those cursed weapons, maybe they were forged to fight off a shifter explosion like what we have right now. Suppose... suppose history's turning a circle, repeating itself. I think the natives tapped into a power they didn't understand when they crafted them, and it might've been that same power that drew the vampires this way." Which left his real worry unspoken but implied; what if they had unleashed that same power and started things over?

Kurt honestly felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature in the garage. When he'd fought in the war, they had been fighting for a new beginning, a new Germany, a new world. To think that now he was fighting a war against the end of the world -- because that was surely where the conlusion led ... he didn't like it. He retracted those thoughts, smoothing them over with better ones. That they'd be a light to darkness and not end up like those people in the caves had. He didn't put any two cents in verbally, eyes just moving between the two men. Postulating on the what-ifs and maybes wasn't his forte; he almost felt like it was bad luck. He was too much of a realist, in this world where reality seemed to be cracking around it's edges.

Frank felt a weird mix of weariness and purpose hit him all at once. The weariness he was familiar with, the type of weight that pushed him down until he could only hide somewhere with a bottle until the next job. The purpose though, that he hadn't felt for a long time and it felt almost alien to him to the point where he wanted it gone. At least he wasn't facing this alone, he was just one man. One old and tired man at that, but apparently he had War on his side along with an unimposing, large German man. Who smoked.

The silence was understandable. Doc had been at this for a long time, but the size of what they faced was immense, unimaginable. Still, he believed he'd chosen well, that both of these men would come to terms with the job in spite of its implications. "Whatever the case is, we do the job," he said at last, "If the roof caves in, we hold it up. We find a way to stop what's happening, or at least buy the time for others to do it." He had faith that Kurt would see this through, Doc had the insight on what the man felt he had to atone for, but Frank? Well, Doc trusted the man, but he had to give him one last chance to bow out. "Still think you're in, Frank?" he asked, extending his hand out and gathering his will to mark Frank as he'd done to Kurt.

Kurt's eyes flickered down to the hand Doc was extending and he understood what was about to happen. Which was fine by him, the more well-armed help they had, the better. Apparently they were up against more than he could even fathom, and ever the soldier, united was better than isolated. He didn't say anything, just letting the transaction happen between the other two as it would.

Frank was already in. You didn't just tell a hunter about a big game like this and expect him to hobble on home. It might be an impossible task and they might all perish doing it but it was a job that put all other jobs to shame and Frank actually smirked at Doc when he asked. "You know me," he muttered and firmly grasped the offered hand. "One step at a time."

"Let's get this one out of the way, then," Doc replied, focusing on the familiar force inside of him. It was the constant pressure of his position, he'd decided, a tangible feeling that was the mantle of War, and he was learning more every day about how to control its' advantages. Heat rose in Doc's palm, a strange tingle that bled into Frank's palm slowly but steadily to form a sigil in the other man's palm. Doc withdrew his grip as the red mark lingered and began to fade, nodding a little. "Welcome to the ranks. If you need me, focus on that and call for me. I'll be there. If you get into trouble of the divine or demonic sort? Flash it like a badge. As for all the other details," he paused to dig out a smaller bit of paperwork, setting it down in front of Frank, "Happy payday."

Frank had been expecting something strange to take place but this was decidedly way out there even for him. He'd been marked, which was something he'd never considered for himself. No tattoos, not even labels on his clothes so far but now he had something that marked him a soldier of War. It was a strange feeling, not entirely unpleasant and he was staring down at his hand when the paperwork appeared in front of him. "What's this?" He muttered and then the paper answered his question all on its own. Finances, something that looked like it'd definitely tidy him over properly. "Paid up front, hm?" He murmured, glancing at Doc curiously. He hadn't even considered the money, there was work to do, that was all he'd thought about.

"I need you focused on the work, not the grocery budget or the electric bill," Doc answered with a nod and a faint smile. It was different than what he'd set up for Kurt, but the circumstances were too. Kurt's entire persona in the system was a creation, whereas Frank Alden definitely existed in the records. Instead of a lump sum, it was a monthly deposit through dummy accounts, and it'd blend right into the existing routine Frank had to cover for his real job. "Not that you wouldn't," Doc explained with a chuckle, "This'll just give some leeway. Any questions? Either of you?"

Kurt watched the whole exchange with a little smile. At least Frank had taken it a lot more easily than he had. He remembered fearing the demon of War at first, though fear in Kurt was a lot different than fear in most people. "Hard to decide if it's better than a day job or not, but at least things are taken care of," he said in Frank's direction. He knew that he most definitely appreciated it. It allowed him to do this and take care of Natalya at the same time. He gave his papers a final flip-through and then shook his head at Doc. Nothing was springing to mind, and if it did, he could use that infernal cell phone to give a ring.

Frank generally took things in stride like that, not because he was brave or cool, but because a long time ago he had ceased to care about what happened to him. He did what he had to do, what he was supposed to do and two out of four things that meant a damn were gone, leaving only his boys. Getting a supernatural mark on his hand from a man who was War? Didn't get much more of a reaction out of him than watching the game on TV. They were just events that took place outside of his gray fog of existence, he did well to just notice them.

"Flashing this badge," he muttered, looking at his hand again. "From what I understood of our earlier chats - you're not a popular man, Eric."

Laughing briefly over that, Doc nodded his agreement. "I think I'm not, but I am one that people don't cross lightly. And as for the demonic and angelic sides of things? Well, I have a job to do. They either know better than to impede it, or they learn that they shouldn't." Hopping up from his seat, Doc took his beer as he moved to a table that had several of his works-in-progress covered under a tarp. He pulled it back, grabbing a bullet box and a larger cardboard one. "Like I said, if you get in trouble and that doesn't work, I can sort shit out. Failing that?" He set the larger box in front of Frank, handing Kurt the bullets. "Consecrated silver, good for a shifter or a demon. Got some arrowheads that need fitting in there too." Because really, what sort of boss would he be if he didn't outfit his agents?

Kurt set the papers aside next to the beer he hadn't finished, and took the box of bullets. He opened them up and ran a thumb over their tops. Then -- one could never be too prepared, after all -- moved his jacket out of the way and unholstered Big Iron. Handling it with absolutely familiar ease, he emptied out the mundane bullets in the chamber and started loading it up with the silver consecrated. God only knew when he would need them, he might as well be ready. He did so silently, as he did most things, just there and willing to follow instructions. He had a feeling he knew what was in Frank's box.

The whole sealing the deal thing hadn't weirded Frank out much but the receiving of gifts and payment did. He watched Kurt at first and realized he recognized his gun. He was sure of it since those sort of weapons didn't just pop up randomly here and there, that gun was special. The last time he saw it, it had been in Eric's hand. He opened his own box and ran his fingers over the silver with great appreciation. "You've been busy, Eric," he muttered, his way of saying thanks right now.

"You have no idea," Doc agreed, tilting his beer back and watching Frank inspect the work. Silver was already difficult to forge, but if you threw in blessed silver and a demonic craftsman? "Had to wear gloves the whole damn time, it slowed everything down. Those things are like acid to me, so I know they're good." Just to prove it, he headed over and reached out, brushing a finger against the head of one of Frank's arrowheads and scowling in time with the soft hissing sound the contact made. "Use them sparingly, pre-blessed silver's hard to find, and I only know a few Shinto priests who owe me favors." He smirked as he withdrew his hand, blowing on the faintly scorched fingertip.

With a flick of his wrist, Kurt snapped the chamber back into place on the big revolver and holstered it again. He never wasted ammunition, he'd been trained too well for that, so he knew that he would be using them sparingly anyway. He picked up his beer with his fore and middle fingers and lifted it to take another drink. The bulk of business seemed to be over, and he relaxed a little bit, finding something sturdy to lean on. "So when would you like to start?" he asked, and though either of them could answer, he aimed it mainly at Frank, since they would be doing the recon work together. Or splitting it up, either way.

It was hardly reassuring knowing Doc got hurt by holy silver but Frank took it in stride, at least it didn't come as a surprise so that helped plenty. "As soon as possible," he muttered in reply to Kurt's question. He had a feeling that whatever was behind all of this wasn't going to hang back and wait for them to get their things in order. Please hold the apocalypse while I finish my paperwork. Be there in a sec.

Pleased that both men seemed ready to deal with the work, Doc just nodded at Frank's words. "I don't expect immediate reports, just get in touch when you have something I should know. Or if you feel like getting a drink," he added with a grin, taking another gulp from his bottle. "Really, whatever you need. If there's gear you're lacking or information you want checked, you both know how to get in touch with me." And hopefully, if he'd chosen well, they'd contact each other regularly. Doc was of a mind that thought Frank and Kurt could both learn from each other; either details on the beings Frank had hunted through his life or the finer points of espionage that Kurt knew so well.

"Tomorrow, then," Kurt said decisively. That was as soon as possible, after all, unless they went out tonight. And he would like to study up on the material before he did that. He pulled his cell phone out of one pocket and waved it a bit at Frank, holding it with two fingers like he didn't like it much. "You have one of these, I'm assuming?" They were handy contraptions, even if he thought that no one should be that reachable all the time. He nodded to what Doc said in the meantime, not wanting to not acknowledge what he pretty much already knew.

Frank didn't just have one, he had too many and he nodded and held his hand out for Kurt's phone, punching in his number and saving it before handing the phone back. It was just faster to do it that way. "I'm always down for a drink," he said with a nod at Doc and it reminded him of that dinner they'd talked about having, wondering if they'd ever get around to that or if it was better left alone.

Doc just sat back with a nod in kind for Frank, torn about the whole scenario. He had a feeling they'd work well together, but would it be enough? Or in time to make a difference? Faith, he told himself with a sigh, reaching for another beer and stopping himself. Sure, working through the liquor he had would be fun, but there was always work to do. Plus he wasn't sure either Kurt or Frank could stay, both men had families of one fashion or another to look after. "If you're going out tomorrow, stay on your toes. This town's weird enough without Halloween right around the bend."

Kurt gave Frank an appreciative nod as he entered his number into the blasted contraption. He tucked his phone away again and looked at Doc as he spoke. "We will be prepared," he assured their boss. Even though he was sure the man knew that already, why else would he choose them? He was War, for God's sake, surely he knew what he was doing. Kurt wasn't exactly looking forward to Halloween, but he didn't fear it. Funny how raging vampire gangs and shadow-killers and the Inbetween and werewolves could toughen you up to. He felt ready. "Would you be willing to accompany me on a drive home, or should I call a taxi?" he asked Doc. He wasn't in a huge rush to go, but he didn't like leaving Natalya home after dark for too long.

"I'll give you a ride you if you don't have a pressing issue with Eric here," Frank offered. He had frowned a little at the mention of Halloween. In his experience it was the worst hunting night of the year. The real thing blended in with the costumes and sometimes the costumes looked so God damned real that shooting at them was almost a reflex. Almost. He could only imagine how much chaos there might be in on Halloween in a town like Marquette.

"Aside from a standing plan to go car shopping, I don't think we have anything," Doc confirmed for Frank, nodding Kurt's way. "Though we should still do that sometime soon, when you feel like it." After the holiday, before the next full moon for certain. Doc would want at least that time to make sure Kurt had a reliable vehicle before the next rash of shifter attacks started. He'd have to start up another list of necessary materials once he was alone again, basics he could count on no matter what sort of car Natalya and Kurt ended up with.

The big German had been sort of hoping he could get the practice in, and didn't want to risk anyone else's vehicle, but sharing a ride with Frank would be advantageous on it's own. Give him few moments to assess the other man on a closer and non-accompanied level. "The sooner, the better," he agreed with Doc, giving a nod and a faint smile. "I believe I personally have funded at least one taxi driver's retirement." It was a very rare thing, a joke from Kurt, but there it was. He finished off what was left of the beer and nodded to Frank. "I would appreciate that, thank you."

"Car shopping?" Frank said with a hint of a smile. "Give me a shout out if you want my company on that one." Frank loved cars though he liked old cars better than new ones. They just didn't make them the way they used to, now everything was electric and that was just damn unsafe. Stupid little creature comforts were low on the list after survival, sturdiness in battle, speed and off-roading. Frank was rarely happy with a car as it was and definitely never happy with a car until he'd had done some work on it himself, if only to feel more like it was his.

Doc was smirking in thin amusement at Kurt's joke, knowing how rare the man made them or even laughed at someone else's. There was no harm in encouraging the behavior, really. "Never a bad idea to have another perspective involved," Doc agreed, "I think between the two of us, you'll end up with a solid ride Kurt. Something functional that Natalya can handle too." He remembered that being on Kurt's wishlist, for certain. No muscle cars like the one Doc had parked out front, Natalya didn't seem the sort who'd like working a suicide knob or even want to drive over a hundred miles an hour.

He nodded to both of them, appreciating that he would have two knowledgeable opinions going with him once he went to make the purchase. Hopefully he wouldn't have to explain to Frank too much why he knew next to nothing about what he was buying, though that truth should probably come out sometime. Just not in the middle of a car dealership with other people around. "Soon, then, we will all go," he confirmed. In the meantime, he stood up straighter and tucked the folder with all it's information under his arm. "Speaking of Natalya, if you gentlemen are ready to part, I'd like to get back to her before night sets in," he said amiably. Dinner would be waiting on him too, he felt positive.