Red's let alone to sit with his scrambled brain for a few minutes while Frank cleans up; he's a Marine - they don't less messes for other people to deal with, they keep tidy bed corners. It's habit made life style.

When Frank returns, he stops between the couch and the coffee table. "Gotta keep teaching those fanboys some manners. Sit up." He's got tylenol and water in-hand.

Yeah, he might be too fuckin' familiar with this place.

"C'mon. You'll sleep better in your fancy-ass sheets." Red needs rest, and Frank needs someone on the streets who doesn't want to kill him. Well, doesn't need it. Maybe he's gotten accustomed to it, though.