[ he's reaching into one of the taller cabinets for plates when the wolf pack strides in. frank turns to smile at them, starting with their leader, pulling back down his sweater from where it rode up to reveal he doesn't wear shirts under his hoodies because he's a heathen. frank laughs lowly at her facetious suggestion, plating their food and going to grab himself a beer. if he knows her, and he does, then she b'd her own b so he doesn't bother asking if she wants some of his. ]
no subject
I might be fostering a Bernese mountain dog.