"Yeah, I was. I didn't start putting on any muscle until I started to train after I lost my sight," he answers with a shrug. He knows a lot about Frank because of the case and the trial, but most of that is just words on a page. Second or third hand. He likes these times when they are actually talking and he can get the story directly. Perspectives shift.

He faintly smiles at that, "Without the accident, without all of that, I'm not sure where that morality would've landed. If I could still see, I'm not sure how much time I'd have spent reading Thurgood Marshall and forming strong opinions on social justice." Swings and roundabouts. Different paths. "Pretty sure my dad would've shut that down anyway. He was big on the idea of a better life than the one he had." Not that the opinions of the dead necessarily matter; he solves more things with his fists than Battlin' Jack would've ever wanted him to.

"Was it worth it?" he asks after a moment. "What it cost you compared to the bill coming due if you'd stayed?"