#blip bloop

Give me somethinggg to doooo.

It's a slate. 

Some people, maybe they'd see an apartment: brand new; barely lived in. Others would kick off about the bare walls, compare it to the inside of your skull; tut over whether the lack of fruit bowls meant you were more a risk to society than someone who sat a fucking orange in the center of the coffee table. 

To Frank, the place is bare and smart: somewhere to sleep, shower, take a piss; designed to be wiped clean and emptied out in 10 minutes or less. It's not paranoia when someone's got the kinda heat and attention Barnes does. 

Checking in with the head-shrinkers every 24h like they knew shit. Tagged like some common perp.

-- not a choice he'd make. Not a choice he agreed with. But not his choice.

Frank dropped his jacket over the couch back, eyes subconsciously trailing along the ceiling for cameras. Figured Barnes would know where they were; figured he wouldn't invite him here if they weren't accounted for. ( Habits still died hard. )