The kids weren't gonna bother anyone. They bothered anyone, they were gonna be as good as beating it from the place because Nick didn't much like nobody bothering nobody in his place, and the only place that let kids like that hang out and lean all over one another was the movie place. Wasn't nothing good showing at this hour, and they were stretching those fries out real thin until it broke so Nick figured they weren't gonna say a thing to Frank, unless he started turning tables over.
Thing was, the guy was studying the inside rim of that cheap coffee cup so hard, Nick didn't know it was Frank straight off. There were other guys big and broad and who looked like they knew a few things about kicking the shit out of shit in the dark, but when he lifted his head and looked, Nick hadn't had his brain fucked over by the bullet and the chair.
He smiled, the feeling of it old and achy, like muscles being good and worked over after a few days stretch of doing nothing. It felt like elastic, worn out and sagging but if Nick stretched it good, it worked the same. He palmed his hand along the side of his jeans and held it out, the length of arm to shoulder stretching the couple inches of spread between them until the muscles good and burned, but that was clean and Nick didn't give a shit about hurts above the knee.
"Sitting on my ass, pouring coffee for shits like you," he laid it out easy, lean back and long grin and palm to knees. "The fuck are you doing in town? There some kind of convention I didn't get the invite to?"