He could smell Frank when he was so close, a darker, earthier, muskier sort of smell. It was comforting, the sort of smell you wanted to bury yourself in and close your eyes and let it invade your dreams. Frank was a mass of muscle, a sheer weight and presence in the room, but he wasn't intimidating. At least, not to Kirk.

"What? No further questions?" he murmured, slowly wrapping his fingers around the knife, shifting his head so his nose bumped against Frank's cheek.