Once again he didn't fight the grip on his neck, the closeness of the other man. Whatever he needed to pull him through the pain, he was willing to give. After all, he had just carved such a horrible thing into his skin. Something he had done. That sour sensation returned, but he shoved it down, tossing the bloodied knife to the table and reaching up to cup Frank's face, stroking gently.

He titled his head just enough to brush his lips over Frank's. "That's a damn funny thing to ask for a man whose arm is bleeding at an only mildly alarming rate."