Frankie waved off the offer of more alcohol. It wasn't helping. What was the point? Instead, she reached into the pocket of her oversized hoodie and pulled out a joint. "Do you mind?" she asked. Of course he wouldn't, but it was polite to ask before sparking up. The sprite pinched the tip with her lips and created a flame between her fingers, lighting it. She took a long, slow, depressed drag and held the smoke in her lungs as she crawled up the bed to sit closer to him. Frankie offered it to Fox as she finally exhaled. "Would you date a woman in her eighties?" she asked. Of course he wouldn't. He wouldn't want to fuck one either.