It's too dark for Frank to really see it, but Kira looks over the bottle as he tips it back again, staring at the opposite corner like there might be a camera there to look into. Eventually his eyes slip sidelong away from Frank, not quite a roll, and slide back as he dangles the bottle in both hands, elbows propped on his dog's ass.

Her tail is rhythmically beating him in the ribs, which he assumes is a good sign. She's still panting, but the shaking has stopped for now and for once she has the laps and attention of both of her caretakers.

"Check your fucking messages; she told you she's fine. She's either upstairs somewhere or still making her way here." Here probably being this exact corner of this exact cellar, the way things go lately. Why did he ever think he could get shitfaced in a dark corner without one of them showing up, and inevitably summoning the other? "Before she gets here," he asks annoyance and alcohol prompting him to dive at the subject, "what the fuck is up with you two anyway?"