He nods, finally letting go but allowing her to still cling to him as he slowly makes his way to the kitchen. All of the lights are electric, unlike most of the homes here and there's a large contraption sat on the counter that she may or may not be able to identify as a popcorn maker by all the butter and a sack of corn kernels beside it. Frank goes to the stove and tries not to read into her question, though it's impossible not to. The old iron kettle is filled and he strikes a match to light the stove. Only once the tea water is on the hot burner does he relent and try to answer her.

"Kamala." A beat. "Jessica."

And now Clara. The people who remember Reims. It isn't a coincidence that they're the only people he trusts in this world.