A pathetic snuffle is wrung out of him and a hot tear falls against Alex's skin, Frank's head hung on his shoulder like a bowling ball. He does have a point, Maria probably would have yelled at him for sitting around crying about her when he should be helping Alex, and Kamala, and anyone else who needed him. A bark of a laugh pierces through a sob, and he grips onto Alex's arm to try to find the strength to sit up. "We fought like cats'n'dogs, you know. Never agreed on any damn thing." He laughs again, but it's wet, caught somewhere between mirth and sorrow. It still sounds fond somehow, he'll always love Maria. He doesn't think he has to explain that to Alex. "She'd tell me to get over myself." Frank nods once, resolutely as the tears stop and he wipes at his face with his other hand as he slowly backs off.