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Summary
"So, I was thinking," Red begins after they're done, a sheen of sweat still on their bodies. "I'd be easier if I had a phone number I could call. So I don't waste my time wandering the streets for hours."
He says it like he's joking. But his body doesn't lie. His posture is stiff, and the fingers of one hand are tugging at a loose thread in the cheap blanket.
It's not a big deal, really.
So, Frank becomes a booty call. A phone number Red can call when he needs to feel human for a little while, before he slips back into whatever nightmare he's chosen for himself.
(Or, they start off as enemies, become allies (sort of), Frank becomes a booty-call. And something else entirely.)