The Saints' Devil

IV

"What can you tell me about Frank?" Charlie asked Drake and Fury as they sat in the garage, enjoying some lunch while Frank was on a run. Fury had stopped mid-bite upon hearing his little sisters question and looked up at her, confused and shocked.

"What could you possibly want to know about that silent brute?" Drake grumbled, chuckling lightly to himself.

Charlie had shrugged, ignoring the horrified look on her brothers face. "Well, he's already turned out to be the complete opposite of what I had imagined and expected. I mean, first, let's start off with the fact that I was expecting him to be like the hardcore-member-of-Slipknot-but-also-Jason-at-night kinda thing, which, let me tell ya, I was so wrong," she said babbling on and on, completely stuck on the topic, her mind unable to leave Frank out of it. "Secondly, I believed the guy to be a mute and then he--what?--can talk?"

"Well, you assumed all those things," Drake mumbled.

"And don't even get me started on the fact that the Slipknot-Jason-Guy actually complimented my work on the car, complimented me, he was making it seem like he had absolutely zero hope in my abilities."

"Look, what are you even trying to get at here, Charlie?" Fury asked, finally snapping out of his shock. "Why are you venting to us about it?"

"Who is Frank?" she finally blurted, getting frustrated with herself. "Who is that guy? Why does he wear a mask?"

"He's the Saints' Devil," Drake suddenly said, growing incredibly serious at the mentioning, Fury as well. "He does the clubs dirties jobs, dirtiest missions. He gets the most shit, he's put in the most dangerous situations and yet he walks through them as if he's walking through a field of flowers."

"I already know who he is to your club," Charlie suddenly snapped, growing rather angry over Drakes comments about Frank. Sure, Frank was the club's Devil but they spoke about him as if he was a dog. "I want to know who Frank is, who is Frank?"

Fury and Drake both looked at each other and then back at her and shrugged.

"Are you kidding me? Seriously, Fury, you don't know anything about your own member of your club?"

"I know Frank, Charlie, I know him good. But I know Frank wouldn't want no one, no one, snooping around in his business. We know better than to just spew his life story to anyone, Charlie. If you really want to know about him, ask him yourself," Fury said, biting into his sandwich once again.

Charlie sighed heavily, pursing her lips. She was unsatisfied and yet still confused at why she wanted to know so much about the man. No, she wasn't confused. It's because he was a mystery. Everything about him, the way he dress, his mask, his voice, him himself was nothing but a mystery wrapped in a dirty jumpsuit.

The one thing that had really struck this string of interest within her was the mere fact that he was the first person to compliment her work, to notice it, to finally tell her what she had never known she'd been waiting to hear. Not to mention, she never knew she liked the silent-tall-mysterious type until she met Frank.

"Got a crush on him?" Drake tried to tease but Charlie only smirked at him.

"Oh, are you jealous, perhaps?" she teased back, his smug smile fading.

"I got a woman," Drake said defensively, Charlie rolling her eyes.

"Then you should know not to tease someone who's got a crush."

"Then you have a crush on him?" Fury asked suddenly, chiming into the conversation.

Charlie shrugged. "There's a high chance that I do. After all, there's something extremely attractive about the mysterious-bad-boy type," she said. "It gives me a little rush, it's very refreshing compared to some of the men in your club, bro."