the concept of frank being one of the least judgemental people alive (at least where you're concerned)... until it comes to being in a car with you.
and the crux of it all is that you are a good driver. plenty of people have said so. but it's the vice-grip he has on your oh shit handle that makes you question everything.
"you okay, frankie? you look a little tense."
you take your eyes from the road for a second just in time to see the muscle flex in his jaw.
"m'okay, kid. just keep those pretty eyes of yours on the road, yeah?"
you chance another glance at him but he's already watching you, and he's about to give you shit– when your vehicle lurches after merely grazing a curb.
the silence in the car is deafening until you clear your throat and murmur, "well who put that there?"
he just grumbles something to the effect of, "god, I'd hate to be you when you go in for your next alignment."
"my alignment will be fine, frank. that's the first curb i've hit–
"today?" he interjects.
your eye-roll is the cause of his gruff laughter, and it makes you smile in spite of yourself.
"i'll just hit a couple more curbs and it'll align itself right back to normal."
"pfft," he snorts. "not sure that's how it works, kid."
"we'll see about that."
the crater-like pothole you forget to avoid on the way home renders the rest of the ride agonizingly silent.
and yeah, he's right. your next service is probably going to suck.












