"Your city." Deadpan, like he knew it was coming. And he did. "Got the fuckin' monopoly on New York." There's no heat. Frank's tired and the coffee's only at a half a cup. He pushes off the counter.

"That's a pretty excuse, Red, considering we both know you've offered me more for less." But he's moving across the room because, well, he doesn't fucking know. "Maybe I've taken off all the heads I need to tonight." Yeah, he's gonna go through Red's drawers. But it doesn't take long; he's not looking for evidence, for proof of anything. He's already got Red's biggest dirty secret.

Turns out that leg size doesn't matter so much in sweats - they're clean and don't smell like blood, and that's enough right now. Frank falls into the chair kiddy-corner to the sofa.

"You remember when I told you about Gabriel?"