In Danny's defense, Frank uses insults out of fondness and out of annoyance at about the same rate. And it tends to be difficult to tell one from the other with him, these days.

Well, not that difficult. Danny doesn't have any bullet holes in him, so he can't possibly be doing that badly.

And at least they're cutting to the chase, now. Frank can appreciate that. He crosses his arms, leaning a hip against the counter: not close enough to the stove to set his shirt on fire but not so far that he can't reach out to stir the pot if it's needed.

"If Red wants to have a conversation, tell him he can do it without a goddamn proxy, huh?" It's not like he and the devil haven't had a shouting match or three on the very subject, but that's not why he agreed to this... arrangement. "If you want to have that conversation, then have it."

Here's hoping that the other members of Red's new pajama squad are easier to reason with, right?