“Detective!! Detective it’s you! Happy Christmas!!”

He shouts as soon as you enter the big basement where Frank has been living for the last couple of days. The teen looked bad - covered in dirt, with messy hair and clothing, he was spending nights on printing some money - because now he had nothing. He couldn’t pretend, couldn’t run away.

“It’s ironic, isn’t it? It’s…the third Christmas we’re spending together.”

The boy laughs nervously, already shaking a little. Both of you know this is the final goodbye for him - you’re an fbi officer, and he’s a criminal faking money to live a happy - or so-called happy - life.

Frank is devastated, his blue eyes scanning the basement anxiously. There’s no way he can get out of here without you stopping him and the boy knows that. It makes him tremble with anxiety.

“I have cooked beans, want some? They’re…they’re so tasty!!”