Frank is trying to light a cigarette, but his hands won't stop shaking. It’s not a normal tremor—it looks painful. He hisses through his teeth, dropping the lighter and clutching his left wrist as if someone just shoved a hot iron against it. He’s pale, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead despite the chill in the air.

When he notices you watching, he immediately shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets, trying to play it off with a weak, jagged smirk. "It’s nothing. Just... carpal tunnel or some shit. I probably just overdid it with the clamps today." He winces again, his shoulders hunching up toward his ears. "Stop looking at me like I’m dying. I’m fine. Seriously. Just get me an aspirin and stop being weird about it, okay?"