[Clint catches him, though he damn near stumbles over his own feet in the process. Frank's a big guy. Thankfully, he's gotten pretty used to working around big guys. They're a mess, Frank more than Clint obviously, and covered in concrete dust that is going to be hell on the lungs in the next couple days, but he's out, alive, relatively unharmed.

Clint dips his forehead to Frank's shoulder, laughing, arms around the big lug to hold them both up.]

You asshole. [That's Frank in a nutshell.] You fucking idiot. 'Oh, I'm not gonna get souped, you stay away but I'm totally fine to go into the soup and won't be people soup.' Did you have fun at soup, Frank? Was this fun for you? Gosh, I had so much fun rescuing you from Francis soup.

[He's not letting go to save his life shut the entire fuck up.

They've been causing a commotion that's difficult to miss, however. Yeah, all the raiders in the immediate vicinity seem to have suffered a soupy fate, or a Punisher-and-then-soup fate. Doesn't mean there aren't other people around, friend or foe or neutral. Someone comes poking around.

Someone comes poking around wondering where the hell the rest of their group is and why the hell they haven't come back or checked in. And then there's Castle, becoming a real god damn pain in the backside. Looking like an easy target.

A flash of movement, a drawn gun, the rapid fire of several shots to center mass--]