seattle ; sunday afternoon

Frank had decided that Sam had freaking awful coping mechanisms. This decision had been solidified when Brid had dragged Sam home early this morning with what Frank had guessed was a concussion and what Frank guessed were werewolf claw marks stretching from the side of his neck all the way down his shoulder and to his bicep.

Brid hadn't said much mostly because she'd been a little beat up herself (and maybe a little embarrassed? Frank wasn't sure about that) but she'd assured Frank and Ramon that Sam wasn't going to die and then had promised to come back a little later once she got some sleep and recovered.

So now, after Ramon had convinced Frank that the hospital was out of the question, and he'd managed to slap some bandages on the gross looking claw marks and made sure Sam was even freaking alive, he'd left the other boy alone in one of the rooms with instructions to Ramon not to let him sleep too long and to make sure he didn't stop breathing.

It was one of the rare times that Frank was assertive. Mostly, he was just worried about his friend. This was becoming a habit. Once Frank was out of earshot, he pulled his phone out and made a few calls.

[NFB but open if you think Frank would have called you for any reason]