There was a brief moment, as they stepped out onto the street, where they paused. Frank stripped off his leather jacket and slung it across the young woman's shoulders, as if it belonged there, or as if it were much cooler out than it was. It did not cover her nearly as much as he was expecting because, he realized, they were nearly the same height. He hadn't noticed, when she was folded up or even in the moments of--of, well, whatever had happened to that young man in the warehouse.

Then he wrapped an arm casually around her shoulders. Like they were just two people out on the street, coming home from somewhere. He pulled a baseball cap out of the back pocket of his jeans and fit it on his head, pulled low to shield his eyes.

He didn't particularly like being spoken to like he didn't know what the fuck he was doing, but he didn't naysay her. Instead, he simply headed toward the main road, and then down a few blocks, without giving up that casual touch across her shoulders. He walked slowly, but with purpose, away from the warehouse as if they'd never been there at all.