Frank scratches the dog's belly obligingly and tries to cover over his expression in reaction to her casual admission, but he wears his heart on his sleeve on a good day.

"I didn't know," he manages, keeping his tone light even as his gaze fixes on the dog because he can't look at her face while he considers that she has thought about this. Their escape. "I mean, that you..." Always intended anything.

He swallows and shakily forges eye contact. He's pathetic, isn't he? He feels that way.