Matt sticks out his arm, turning it over to let Frank strap it on. There was a slight tremor in his bandaged hand but he's not shaking, and it's not twitching like Frank's trigger finger. A couple more days and he'll be swinging a mean right hook at Frank's face if he doesn't take out his frustration at the gym.

"I'm not your dog," he mutters as he gets to his feet and starts towards the exit, following next to Frank, gritting his teeth with every bang his own boots clumsily make against the floor.