Frank lifted his eyes to look at the bedraggled kid standing before him. It hurt that little bit inside him that was still a father, to think of one of his children standing where this boy was.
“What are you, like, fifteen?” Frank asked, exasperated. And he was sure he could have thought of a better introduction than that. “I’ve read about you,” he added. “I saw your stuff on YouTube. I didn’t realise-“ well, no, he wouldn’t have. With the whole secret identity thing. He’d never been one to jump on that bandwagon. Didn’t appeal to him. He wanted men to know who was killing them. But that wasn’t the point.
Frank glanced down the alley to make sure no one was going to happen upon them and give them anymore unnecessary issues. Then he stepped out of his doorway, frowning.
“And Stark lets you go around doing this? He knows how old you are, right? Of course he does. Piece of shit-“ he muttered the last part under his breath, sweeping his fingers through his hair. “I’m Frank, by the way. Castle.”