"I told her more than I told anyone else here. She knew I lost my family, that I was a vigilante. She's only sixteen, Red. She just needed plausible deniability." She doesn't have that now, but Frank still isn't mad. And he says 'was' like he's already retired. He had told Kamala that too. He takes one of Matt's hands while he's distracted and puts it on the buttons on the side of the replicator. "It's kind of complicated, but these things can make anything. It's not four-star, but we're all still alive. They gotta bunch of nerds workin' on 'em every day. The coffee's a lot better than it started."

Frank inputs the code for the best coffee, his fingers over Matt's so he'll learn the sequence. He lets him take his hand away then, waiting until he has a firm grip on his tray again so he can set the coffee on top of it and start putting in a code for something simple. Pasta dinner. The noodles are soggy and the tomato and meat aren't real, but it's the thing Frank gets the most comfort out of from these things. He can give Matt a full lesson on the machines later, getting himself the same meal and nudging Matt to the table he and Karen and Kamala usually sit at. He knows from experience if he glares just the right way no one will bother them.

"What? You're the only one who gets to keep a secret identity?" he teases as he sits down, immediately taking a long sip of coffee and sucking it off his teeth audibly. It's a vow that Matt's secrets are safe with him, no matter what he tells other people. Some things are just sacred, and Frank never went out there with a mask the way Matt did. He wanted people to know who he was. "This place isn't New York. No one except a few Avengers will know who you are anyway." Oh yeah, they have Avengers and they still haven't gotten back. Doesn't bode well, does it?