Frank huffs a rough approximation of a laugh out from under about two tons of anger and shakes his head, grinding out, "Guess we've got that in common." The desire to beat the fuck out of people, that is.

And reigning in that urge isn't an easy task. Frank steps back from the fountain, wet boots pacing a few steps around the arc of its perimeter as he looks up and around, takes in the cement and foliage surrounding him. What the hell.

"And what makes you so goddamn calm about it?" he asks finally, because sure, she's pissed, and he appreciates not being the only one, but she's not chomping at the bit.