Frank chuckles as Red heads off, fills his spot at the counter again. With the TV still on he's not capable of eavesdropping but the truth is that whatever Red's saying doesn't matter to him; he's got more pressing issues. He checks the triggers on his bunker, the few contacts with scratch enough to follow the cop gossip. Can't trust em further than he could toss their asses, but it helps paint a picture.

Task Force hasn't found his place yet, but they're on the scent. Building back up his stash will take time and effort and space that Fisk's goons aren't gonna give him: he needs to get into his place and clear out.

Goddamnit.