[ ok perfect frank is an oldbie. jb makes the best faces it's true. ]
He doesn't mind the other man sitting by him, though he crunches up a bit so Maine can get the benefit of the fire. He's never felt truly small just sitting next to someone before, even if the man looks like he could be half his age when he relaxes his face. It reminds him of boot camp and much simpler times. Frank understands too being more interested in dogs than people. That's obviously why he has so many. He might already be sizing Maine up to see if he might be the sort of person he can adopt a few animals to, but that can wait until after he has proper Winter gear. Naturally.
The one gruff word almost startles him, he had been so immersed in sitting here in silence he almost forgot people could speak here again. Frank leans back and cranes his neck to look at his morons. They've finally settled on the floor, Aretha laying on her paws and Aloe with his feet in the air. All he can do is roll his eyes as he points to first the gray pitbull and then the black and tan bloodhound. "Aloe, Aretha." He never thought Maine was asking for his name, so that circumvents some awkwardness anyway: he would have offered their names before his own whether he was asked or not. It would seem their passing resemblance isn't all they share.
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He doesn't mind the other man sitting by him, though he crunches up a bit so Maine can get the benefit of the fire. He's never felt truly small just sitting next to someone before, even if the man looks like he could be half his age when he relaxes his face. It reminds him of boot camp and much simpler times. Frank understands too being more interested in dogs than people. That's obviously why he has so many. He might already be sizing Maine up to see if he might be the sort of person he can adopt a few animals to, but that can wait until after he has proper Winter gear. Naturally.
The one gruff word almost startles him, he had been so immersed in sitting here in silence he almost forgot people could speak here again. Frank leans back and cranes his neck to look at his morons. They've finally settled on the floor, Aretha laying on her paws and Aloe with his feet in the air. All he can do is roll his eyes as he points to first the gray pitbull and then the black and tan bloodhound. "Aloe, Aretha." He never thought Maine was asking for his name, so that circumvents some awkwardness anyway: he would have offered their names before his own whether he was asked or not. It would seem their passing resemblance isn't all they share.