In all honesty, Dodger doesn't really care who he is and doubts he'll remember his name even if he asks. Right now he's just a body to be used and discarded, and that is how Dodger likes it. Thinking of him as a person would just get in the way of the buzz.

One of his hands finds its way into Francis's hair, holding him close while he nips harshly at his bottom lip. The other hand is holding onto his hip to facilitate grinding up against him, not that it's doing much with his own thick jeans in the way. Before long he's yanking at Francis's pants with an abnormally warm hand, silently demanding them off before he scorches them off.