Frank has habits. A routine he’s dead set on following. He’s always liked the comfort of having a constant in his life, even before the military instilled his little quirks in him as something that needed to be done. He wakes up at the same time every day, goes through everything he needs to feel right for the day.

He used to be more comfortable with breaks in his routine, back before his life became a shitshow. Before him and Maria started drifting, and he became more familiar with a tent than his own four walls. Before his family died. When if he slept in, he was usually awoken by familiar voices, faces that he loved more than anything.

Frank is comfortable being alone, but he still aches for that sense of familiarity that comes with a constant presence in his life.

Hybrids are familiar. God knows he came across enough of them at his time in the military. Frank isn’t the type to get all sappy, but even he can sympathise with how your kind gets treated. Worked to the bone, high mortality rates, even higher early discharge rates.

He doesn’t know what to expect when he adopts a retired service hybrid. You’re too young to have been retired for old age, and too old to be a rookie that couldn’t handle it, so he can only imagine the kind of things you were put through. But you’re easy enough. Quiet. You eat well, and you’re content with whatever little tasks he gives you to keep you occupied. It’s nice, having you around. He likes having someone to look forward to seeing.

“That’s cute, kid.” He scoffs as he watches you perk up at the sound of cars from outside his apartment, thinly veiled amusement on his features as you stiffen up. “You gonna take out all the big, bad guys for me, huh?”

Your head turns to him, big eyes watching him in a way that makes him feel far too soft. Feels like kicking a puppy to ignore you when you look at him like that. “What? That look supposed to make me wanna give you a treat or somethin’?”