Frank hadn't gone far. His arm was still over her shoulders, doing what arms do with the snuggling and the warming. He was in a similar state of dress, shoe-less and naked from the waist up. Two hundred and fifteen odd pounds of muscle-y, snoozing soldier.

There was a pitcher of water near the bed, half empty. Looks like he'd been up and about at some point; that only one of them was likely to have a hangover. Frank could likely care for himself blacked-out if necessary.

He was sleeping longer than he normally does, though. Either the night had drained him, or, more likely, he liked facing the day from right where he was.

He murmured and shifted as her hand brushed his face, and his eyes slid open and he smiled at her. "Hullo sunshine," he says to the woman who's face is half buried in the pillow. "Feeling well?" he chuckles.

He gives a curious look as her face falls and she sighs. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" He brushes some of her fiery hair away from her face.

He leans over her, the covers falling from his body. Stealing a kiss, he grabs the pitcher and the glass from the end table. 'Out of reach' apparently meant she couldn't manage to roll herself over enough to make a grab for it. "You drank too much," he teased as he filled the glass.

He leans over her again to set the pitcher down, then contents himself with watching her struggle between burying herself further into the pillow and sitting up to take the glass. God she was so adorable.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I encouraged it," he says, grinning, not at all sorry. He leans in and kisses her on the forehead, "Did you sleep well?" He settles himself back into the bed beside her, playing with her hair as he watched her.

"No contracts today; I can stay home and take care of you... again." Frank was an evil, evil man, especially with that grin on his face.

"Set up? Who would want to set up a sweet, innocent little thing like you?" Takes the glass, and gleefully leans back over her to set it down. On the way back, he steals another kiss, this one lingering, no doubt inspired by a couple of the better ones they shared last night. "Not I," he breaths, and "Good." as he lays back down on the pillow, head on hand to watch her over the soft, rolling hills of fluffy comforter and downy pillow.

He pulled the comforter up higher on the pair of them. All this moving around was letting the cold air in! He said as much, and craftily slid closer to make sure everything stayed nice and warm.

"Well, out with it then," he breathes into her ear, reveling in her nearness, but something wasn't quite right. Something more than her being hungover; it was on her mind and it was, well, not obvious, but apparent. She was being all melty and tentative, but there was none of the blushing. Something was clearly amiss!

With a sigh, he lays his head back down on the pillow, staring at the ceiling, collecting his thoughts carefully. Frank was not a man to be rushed when looking for things like the truth. Frank was not a man to be rushed when doing something like soul-searching. Now he was being asked to do both. The pause was not to concoct a lie, no, lies did not come naturally to the man, but he often made mistakes.

This was not something he wanted to be mistaken on.

"Do you remember when I told you not many knew me as more than a man with a rifle? Well it was true. What was also true was that I didn't care to know others either. Sorta a mutual respect."

He pauses.

"You know, I tried to change when I got here. Figured, hey, new life, new loves, all that. Tried to settle down with a girl. We went on a date. Romantic and candle-lit and everything. Over dinner, the girl tells me she's not human. Which was a surprise, but not as surprising as what she said afterwards: 'I don't have a heart.' she said to me, 'I take pleasure in other's pain.' she said. Then I never saw her again, and while I thank god for that, you can understand how that wouldn't be a good first foray into love."

He pauses again.

"Well I've gotten to know you better, Tarna. You're a far cry from the sad little girl I thought you were- Hey! You wanted the truth! You're stronger and more resilient than I gave you credit for. I underestimated you, and for that, I'm sorry."

He finally turns to look at her, "But, I'm not leading you on. I would never do that, let alone to you. I haven't lied to you Tarna. I'm just..."

He blinks. He's silent for a long, long time.

"Scared," he admits. "I'm scared. It's not in my control, and I don't want to hurt you, and this isn't some stupid op I can just say, 'Oh, look, I fucked up! Oh well!'" Shrug. "I.." he stops, realizing what he'd just admitted and hoping maybe that she'd fill in the gaps. Or something.

"Whatever; don't mistake my honesty for goodness..." he trails off as she caresses his chest. Bah! She knew he carried a gun, what more was there to say? She was smart. She wasn't a child. She knew it wasn't a toy. She knew what it did and what he did with it.

"No, we don't. But it's preferable when you feel responsible for something. Like someone's heart."

She nuzzles up to him- really nuzzles up to him- and he smiles, warmly. He returns the embrace. "Of course, there are always exceptions. No more words," he agrees.

And their love, for love it was, turned far from words. And Frank let himself believe that this could work, that he could make it work, and he let himself be... content.

Maybe even happy.