87...

"Hey there," Frank said with a mirth touched slur. He put a cigarette to his mouth and inhaled as if his very life depended on the smoke getting where it needed to go.
"Hi," Alexis answered back. She tried her best not to smile, trying to adhere to a blank poker face on coming into the first contact with this guy. But she couldn't help it, there was something about the blurry eyed swagger that made her want to count him in a conspirator, something to the sideways smile that spoke of a home of some sort. "You look like you're up to something."
"I am," he said with dry giggle.
"And what are you up to outside of my boyfriend's place?"
Frank pointed with the glowing end of his smoke towards the window beside him, glowing blue with the flicker of a television. His eyes widened comically and questioningly.
"Larry?"
"Lou."
"Right. Well," he began, and then swayed hard enough to set his feet into a shuffling dance step. He righted himself, slapped his cigarette hand on the concrete step just above his head, and took a swig of the concoction in his plastic cup. "I belong to one of the ladies upstairs."
"Not Rachel?"
"I wish," he sad with an exaggerated eye roll. "Mary."
"Oh, she's..."
"A pain?”
“I was going to say nice, actually.”
“You are the one being nice." He took another deep drag, followed quickly by another swig of his drink.
Alexis laughed quietly and he gave her a questioning look.
"It still doesn't really explain what you're doing here underneath the stairs."
"No," he pointed at her with his cigarette. "You're right, absolutely right."
He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, closed his eyes and let out the breath slowly.
"I'm not supposed to be doing this," he said in a stage whisper, waving the cigarette in front of her face.
“And she can’t see you down here?”
“She’s…” He waved his hand distractedly as if that explained what she was and then took another large swallow from the plastic cup.
“She’s what?” Alexis asked with another quiet laugh.
“She’s passed out. So I came down here, to have quick smoke and make a decision.”
“A decision about what?”
“About whether or not I finish this smoke, chug this cocktail, go quietly back upstairs and wash my hands and my face, brush my teeth real good and then slip unnoticed into Mary’s pastel colored bed.”
Alexis waited for a moment. “Or?”
“Or I say screw that routine and walk the mile and a half home.”
Alexis put her arms behind her and leaned against the staircase that would carry him up to Mary. Frank leaned towards her like a conspirator.
“I’m leaning towards the latter,” he said in a whisper.