"I know a hang out that could be useful," Vance said. "They won't give a shit who comes and who goes as long as we pay well. So kid, how old're you?"
"Twelve, bub," Will managed to stifle out. His face was red and he fought back the angry tears that threatened surface. "What d'ya care for?"
"Because you clearly have lived a full life for being so young. You're having a beer, kid. You need to wind down. Don't worry, we'll watch ya. Ya bastard."
"Fuck. You." But he wiped his eyes, and seemed calmer now.