He tracks her with one eye while pulling his shirt on, finding himself strangely invested in what she's doing. He hears the familiar clink of a bottle and it gives him the tiniest twinge like - maybe they shouldn't be doing this. More specifically: him, since he knows on some level she'd rather do anything other than share a meal with him. Unconsciously mimicking her actions, he also stops in the tiny kitchenette and pours water from the taps into her same glass before draining it once and following onto the door.

Jessica Jones... okay, they're doing this. (He is.) Frank smiles at her sidelong as he travels back to the door where he'd left his leather coat hanging last night. He nudges the door with his elbow but lets her open it out rather than doing the obviously chivalrous thing. Instead, he trails after her in the hall with his head ducked low to the ground.