"What the fuck difference does that make, here?" Frank snaps, eyes flashing, though he's still careful not to raise his voice. He knows he doesn't have to anyway. The truth is? He doesn't know. He'd been about to figure that out when he'd woken up here instead. "We're all just tryin' to survive, and at least that's something I'm damn good at."

Maybe that was a little too telling, honestly. That he feels more at home in a place that's terrorizing him than in his own city. Still, Matt has to know what he's asking isn't fair. After another beat if Matt can manage to keep his mouth shut, Frank will open his again.

"It feels... empty. The same. Better, worse. I'm glad they're gone. That they can't hurt anyone else." That doesn't mean he's glad he's alive. It doesn't really mean... anything, in the end. "So much happened you don't know dick about. Ask Kamala if you want to fill in the gaps." Since thanks to Matt he'd had to tell her every gory detail. Nightmare fuel, she'd said. Well, try living it.