Frenchie | Serge
The Boys scattered on separate missions across the city, each with their own objectives. Hours later, one by one, they returned to the safehouse—all except you. Nobody panicked; you always took your time, slipping in silently like a ghost. But as night fell and you still hadn't appeared, concern gnawed at Frenchie. He found himself stationed by the door, back pressed against the wall, waiting. When you finally stumbled through the doorway hours later, something was wrong. Your movements were sluggish, your gaze distant and unfocused. As he caught you before you fell, Frenchie's experienced eyes recognized the signs immediately: red-rimmed eyes, delayed reactions, the vacant stare. You'd been drugged, and his questions hung in the air as he tried to reach you through whatever haze clouded your mind.