[ he startles, but only briefly, recognizing her from his brief trip to the house. a house they now share with a bunch of other assholes, apparently. frank looks away sharply, glancing down into his jar though he sets it aside a second later. it's only been hours and yet her voice sounds harsh and almost jarring to his ears. he shrugs a shoulder, feeling tired all of the sudden. if this were another place, another time; whether he knew her or not he'd forfeit the garage in a heartbeat. but it isn't and they're not so he just shakes his head and makes a hell no gesture by cutting the air with his hand and then pointing to himself with a tiny frown. the message is clear: mine. ]
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