[ he sets down his coffee and goes to answer the door after nearly jumping out of his skin and shattering the mug. there are a few telltale splatters of coffee on the old wood floor that he doesn't seem to notice, his boots landing with noisy, heavy steps as he moves to unlatch it and let her in. he's dressed simply in a navy henley, rolled up to his elbows to reveal that: in fact yes, the bruises and cuts do just keep going and going, and a pair of lightwash jeans with a thick belt to hold them up (not that it seems like they need it the assistance, honestly.) frank's eyes scan her face as he licks at his torn-up lips before remembering himself and stepping aside so she can come in. ]
Hey.
[ it's belated but warm enough, he can smell the whiskey on her, but that isn't so surprising. his whole apartment smells like coffee or she'd be able to tell how strongly he reeked of that himself. and as for the space itself: there aren't many amenities or personal touches. breakfast at tiffany's is playing at low volume on an old-school tv set and there's a guitar propped up against the wall under the window. the kitchen is the only room that seems lived in, and his tiny alcove of a bedroom doesn't even have a door on it, though the bed is freshly made should she walk past. ]
Want a drink? [ even if she clearly didn't need one... ]
no subject
Hey.
[ it's belated but warm enough, he can smell the whiskey on her, but that isn't so surprising. his whole apartment smells like coffee or she'd be able to tell how strongly he reeked of that himself. and as for the space itself: there aren't many amenities or personal touches. breakfast at tiffany's is playing at low volume on an old-school tv set and there's a guitar propped up against the wall under the window. the kitchen is the only room that seems lived in, and his tiny alcove of a bedroom doesn't even have a door on it, though the bed is freshly made should she walk past. ]
Want a drink? [ even if she clearly didn't need one... ]