Matt hadn't answered his question, but Frank was sure that he could see a tiny smile curving on the other man's lips. Matt clearly took care of himself, maybe he didn't get enough compliments for it. But he was a good looking guy, he must have gotten a lot of attention. Karen certainly had a lot of feelings for him.
The scars barely registered with Frank. He was used to seeing his own body, no more than a few inches in between war wounds. He was staring. And Matt wasn't covering himself up.
"You did a good job. You did. I liked listenin' to you. I just- I dunno. Is what it is, I 'spose. I'm sorry if it fucked you up. But ain't nobody can say you didn't do a good job, man." Again Frank shrugged, a little overwhelmed with the sentiments.
His eyes moved from Matt's chest to Matt's face, to the glasses that shielded his eyes. The words that followed were bordering on too much, bordering on painful because, shit, when was the last time anyone had said anything kind to him? The last time someone had put a hand on him with no intention of hurting him? Didn't happen. "I always tried to be. A good man. S'what it was all about, y'know? Fighting for my country, being a dad. That was me. Then it all- all went away."
He touched his fingers to his dog tags and his ring, swallowing heavily. "I left these in the house. Our house. I thought it- I guess this place- I remember that guy, the Marine and the dad, husband. And I- once I finished with the people that took 'em from me, I wanted to just keep people safe and-Jesus, I had a big old conversation like this with another guy, once. Told him my sob story. I'm sorry, man. I know I ain't supposed to be your problem anymore."
They were quiet, Matt was settling down, Frank's eyes had finally gone to the bed above him again. But moments later he was bolt upright again, staring across at the man beside him, who sounded as though he'd been electrocuted.
"What's wrong?" he asked, swinging his legs from his bed, ready to take any necessary action. "Matt?" first names now? "What's wrong?"