( Over the next several weeks following the incident with the assholes in the dumpster, Frank and Logan have a handful of moments that cannot, by any technical definition, really be called interactions. They are, however, moderately noteworthy given that they add up to a hell of a lot more than any attempts at friend-making with any of the other regulars of this greasy little establishment they frequent.
Week one looks a little something like this:
Three days in, Frank grunts out an inarticulate sound Logan's direction and gestures toward the salt shaker perched nearby on the breakfast bar flat top they're both seated at, one manly stool of empty air between them. Pass that over, huh?
Six days in, some asshole in a suit makes a stink about wanting to speak to a manager, and he catches the other guy rolling his eyes in tandem with Frank. What a jackass.
Seven days in, they ignore each other completely from opposite sides of the mostly-empty room. It's pleasant. No complaints. )
→ ʟᴏɢᴀɴ; ᴀ sɴᴀᴘsʜᴏᴛ ᴍᴏɴᴛᴀɢᴇ
Week one looks a little something like this:
Three days in, Frank grunts out an inarticulate sound Logan's direction and gestures toward the salt shaker perched nearby on the breakfast bar flat top they're both seated at, one manly stool of empty air between them. Pass that over, huh?
Six days in, some asshole in a suit makes a stink about wanting to speak to a manager, and he catches the other guy rolling his eyes in tandem with Frank. What a jackass.
Seven days in, they ignore each other completely from opposite sides of the mostly-empty room. It's pleasant. No complaints. )