He wakes with a jolt, but thankfully is able to stave off the rest of his usual performance. Whatever nightmare had been gearing up fizzles out as he glances around the room and the previous night's activities replay seemingly in slow motion behind his mind's eye. They must have fallen asleep before he could make up an excuse to leave or Jessica could actively kick him out. Vaguely, he recollects that she half-heartedly may have tried to, but not that hard. As evidenced by him still being in her apartment, after all, just their brief encounter gave Frank the impression if she'd truly wanted him gone she could have made him that way.

Idly, he runs the back of scarred knuckles across the delicate skin of her arm, holding his breath as he realizes she's awake. She may have awoken first, he surmises, because she hadn't moved a muscle after his dramatic gasp into the waking world. Brushing aside his nervousness, he allows his heavy head to roll onto the edge of her pillow as he keeps up the soft touching, his cool breath washing across her throat.

"How do you feel about pancakes, Jess?" he asks gruffly near her ear, pleased with himself for sounding mostly disinterested in the answer. He's definitely expecting to be definitively thrown out now that the light of day is breaking, but no one will be able to say he didn't shoot his shot when she inevitably does kick him to the curb.