The hotel lobby is fairly crowded.
Jacques Snicket stands, not at one of the corners hiding and trying to pretend to be invisible (that is more of Lemony Snicket's expertise), but amongst the crowd, blending in completely and not attracting any attention from people who are trying to check out if there's anyone suspicious hiding in the corners. He's only a little above the average height in comparison's to Olaf's signature tall lankiness, and no one seems to notice him.
Hands tucked into the pockets of his trench coat, he has a neutral expression on. Impassive.
To most, he is nearly invisible.
On the other hand, there are very few things and even fewer people in the hotel lobby that can escape Frank's attention if he's here. Least of all Jacques Snicket.
J's tense, Frank realizes, even though technically he can't quite literally see the tension in his shoulders underneath the trench coat, but in some way he sees it regardless. The neutral expression is rather tight, as if worrying about something. Which is of course nothing unusual, because Jacques is always worrying about something or another. But still, it seems like the something today is of more severe matter than usual.
Frank waves over a concierge and instructs her to discreetly slip the keycard of one of the rooms into one of the trench coat on Jacques's pocket.
They meet up in the room on the third floor 30 minutes later.
"F," Jacques replies, and he sees Jacques exhale, letting out a sigh as some of the tension in his shoulders go out. The neutral, almost blank expression is replaced with a more open frown, which looks bad but is actually a good thing, because that means he isn't hiding anymore.
Even for someone who at this point can so effortlessly hide in plain sight, and who has incorporated that into his life, almost an old habit at this point, there is still a certain relief to emerge from that surface, to let the mask slide away, to appear and to be seen. But, of course, only when he feels safe enough to do so. Only when he feels he's allowed to do so - although, to be fair, most of the time the person who doesn't allow it is Jacques himself, because of the duty he thinks he ought to carry. Frank doesn't blame him. He understands it all too well.
It's perhaps why Jacques thinks he can relax around him.
Jacques closes his eyes, and opens them again. He scowls openly now, and says, "Eleanora is going to be a bigger problem than we anticipated. We'll need a plan B." He grimaces. "But we can talk about that later."
Frank raises an eyebrow. "Okay," he says. "What do you want to talk about now, then?"
"Your tea collection would be good."
Frank gives a faintly amused smile. "Sure." He adds, slyly. "Sugar?"
Jacques says, "Hell, no." But he smiles, too.