He nods, it's not like he knows any better. But he's so used to Karen having the answers - theories that always stack up to the truth, even when she's the only one who can see it. The hug is expected, more-or-less and he manages to get an arm around her shoulder loosely, letting her cling for a moment before she's saying that to him again. The words bring a tide of self-loathing to rise up against the back of his throat and just as quickly Frank is ducking out of her embrace so he can meet her eyes.

"Karen," he starts, voice still even though he hates the wetness in her gaze. There's still a degree of separation here that keeps him from giving into his desperation. He uses his hand on her arm to push her back, hold her at arm's length like she's always claiming he does. "I know, okay. It's fine, I know."

But he can't have this conversation with her again. He doesn't really want to talk at all right now, which shouldn't shock her really.

"You could've told me," he says, impossibly soft. Hearing it from Kira had hurt, more than it should have. She had never hesitated to share things with him before, so is it just this version of him she doesn't trust? Or this version of her doesn't trust him? Either way, it's the last thing he wants to internalize.