Frank turned his gaze away again, letting Nishka have her time with her feelings, with whatever ghosts lived in her head. Something reasonably recent, he would have bet, but there was no way to put a time on grief.
He was giving some thought to knocking back his drink and heading home, but Nishka spoke again, and Frank nodded once, slowly. "Yes, ma'am. All my life." He returned the smile, putting his glass down on the bar. "I like protecting people. Gives me some purpose," Frank added.
Part of him, oddly, felt inclined to start talking, to start trying to verbalise the complicated feelings his job gave him, the pleasure of knowing he was in a position to protect people, the pain that came with decisions he made, the ache of loneliness that he'd inflicted on himself, in reality.
Frank heaved a sigh instead, then returned to his drink.