Frank huffed again, but he wasn't exactly rushing to disagree. Who did he have now? Karen? Not Micro. He couldn't find Curtis. Matt didn't hate him. That kind of felt good. "Feelin's more than mutual," he murmured. Matt - Red - it was easier to think of the man he'd fought rather than the man who'd breezed in and out of every room Frank was in - didn't take any shit, and Frank liked that in people. There was a reason he'd kept looking at the sky, at the rooftops when he'd been wandering through the Kitchen. There was a reason he'd called his name across a graveyard.
And a reason why he felt a little jump in his chest at the offer of a drink.
"Oh now," Frank grinned almost bashfully. "You askin' me on a date now, Red?" he teased, hands shoved his his pockets, boots scuffing in the dirt. "A'ight. Yeah. C'mon- let me at least look like a gentleman."
He stepped forward and offered his arm for Matt to hold, to keep up his pretense.