"I know. I know." Frank tossed the knife aside and cupped the back of Jim's neck, breathing little shushing sounds against his hair as he leaned into his shoulder. It didn't make either of them feel better, but it would settle.

He heard the door click unlocked. Enough blood.

"Come on," he said gently, coaxing. He didn't quite disengage from Jim, just reached out and grabbed both their shirts from where they'd discarded them onto the table. His eyes glanced over the knives. "Come on, I've got some bandages back in my room. We'll get patched up."