He is studying her for any reaction, positive or otherwise, but ends up settling into a comfortable staring contest by the end.

"If I told you that, I'd have to kill you," he jokes lamely as a waitress finally takes pity on them and approaches with a carafe of coffee and her best resting bitch face. Frank is pretty sure she practices. He thanks her with a bright smile, the ancient menus she deposits on the table are as generic as they come and won't help Jess in her pursuit of knowledge in this instance. He takes a sip of his black coffee like it's the greatest thing he's ever tasted though it's burnt yet somehow not even hot - without ever taking his eyes off of her.