He froze with his hands under the running water when the man spoke, and watched as red ran off his hands down the drain, and yet still somehow his hands were red, red, red.

Never get caught. Never be seen. No witnesses. But Frankie was just. So tired. And the man wasn’t accusing, wasn’t threatening, just… offering. So Frankie sighed deeply and rubbed his hands with soap.

“Suppose it couldn’t hurt, if you’re offering.”