[ his not-a-smile-yet drops completely at the words, knowing he doesn't like them but it takes a second to catch up to what they even mean, in context. frank watches her thoughtfully as he ever does, not jumping to help when he knows there's nothing he can do. her system will tell her when its through punishing her for her attempts to obliterate her own liver. he doesn't feel bad for her, since she did it to herself. but he certainly doesn't derive any pleasure from seeing her this way: in pain. it makes him feel helpless, which is exactly what he's always been when it comes to jessica goddamn jones. ]

That about sums it up. [ he agrees, tipping his head. he knows he has to say it now, that he has to respond to her neverending attempts to push him away with more than just acquiescence. it isn't in his nature and he's sick of fighting what he wants. especially when he's almost certain now she wants it too. with that one phrase he's realized that she's been fighting herself more than she ever fought him. and it was only his own self-loathing that kept him from seeing the truth. ]

No. Nothing works on me. You know why? Because the moment I saw you, I knew... I knew that I was gonna be here, watching you throw up at five am. If you vanish on me again, I'm gonna come find you. Because I'm an annoying, stubborn bastard who doesn't care that you hate yourself. Join the goddamn club. If being around each other makes life even a fraction of a percent of fucking liveable, then what's the point in fighting it?

[ there that's it. he's done. he knows... that he might have to make good on his threat to follow her right now. that she's annoying and stubborn enough to go out into the blizzard shitfaced. but he'll do it. she's pushed him to this and he's grateful for it. ]