Atlas had been alone in a dark alley, just keeping an eye on the happenings in the city. Atlas had been alone. This was no longer the case, for a small boy piped up behind him with a rather troublesome question. Frank spun around to look at the boy, gritting his teeth as he saw it was the hallucination of a son that had decided to drop in for a visit.
"Tha’s because…" Frank let out an irritated sigh as he returned his attention back to the streets. He shouldn’t have to explain himself to Patrick, considering the boy was as fake as his mother. Before he could continue to attempt to ignore the boy, it registered that he was holding something of possible interest. His pure desire for the item was quickly masked with a guilty frown, "Oi… Give tha’ ta me, boyo. Where’d you even get tha’?"
Patrick handed over the device without question. He admired his father, hero of the people, too much to ever really defy him. In fact, the look on his face as he handed it over was one of pure pride. He'd done something so right that his father was maybe even concerned about what it was he'd found.
"I snuck inta Fontaine's. They had like.... twelve of 'em sittin' there an' I didn't know what it did so I...uh... borrowed one."
The blonde boy looked to the side, just a little guilty. Good or not, he had stolen the object and Frank Fontaine was not one to care if the thief was a child or not. Not from the things Pat had heard.
"So how come ya tell Mum she ain't real? 's it a game?"