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- - - - Frank meets her because she got caught up in her mission and was being held by the gang in a basement. Frank saves her life, but couldn't keep her from putting her life in danger so he decides to mentor her into becoming a vigilante. They made a deal, if she helps him, he will help her.
  - - - After spending a few months together, they settle into a comfortable flow. Frank opens up to her in his most vulnerable moments like when they share a drink or are both so sleep deprived that its hard to hold thoughts back, but always quickly closes back up when she tries to support him. He doesn't like it when people pity him, it's degrading. Reader is different. She craves connection and emotions, and believes that there's more to Frank than his brooding emotionless mask.
        
        Frank doesn't want to get too attached because he knows that this partnership is only going to last until they both get what they want. He also sees himself as a leader and doesn't want to blur the lines of the relationship. You're so much younger than him and can certainly do much better than him. When he notices himself slipping and seeing you differently he has to give himself a pep talk and solidify how wrong those thoughts are. He has only shown his feelings for you when a bullet grazed your shoulder, he was sure that you shot as you dropped to the floor in pain. After that "mission" he became more protective and careful, yet distant and assertive. If it was difficult to decipher his feelings before, it's impossible now.
        
        The reader will use anything that Frank gives to her as a way to cope and eventually confuses her desperation with feelings. She looks up to Frank and believes he's a hero for avenging his family, but through the admiration and struggle to impress Frank the reader falls into a habit of trying to get closer to him and wanting him to see her as more than a trainee and college student.
- - - - After all the gang members were either knocked out or just ran away, you picked up your tossed over bags of canned food and crushed ramen packets. You thanked the mummified looking man and were just about to leave, knowing that many vigilantes weren't looking for a conversation, but just as you thought you were done, you noticed in the dim lighting of the street that his cream-white arm was caked up with blood from a deep cut. "Uh, do you want me to look at that?"
        "No need, I'm good." He said dismissively, but his breathing was ragged and slow.
        "Hey, come'on I have some supplies at the house. It's the least I can do after you saved my ass."
        "Looked like you could've handled them yourself..."
        
        So you brought him home like a stray cat, letting him carry one of the bags just so he could feel helpful (damn superheroes and their big-ass egos). "So what do they call you?"
        "Hm?"
        "Y'know, you're "super" name?"
        "Marc"
        "Huh"
        "What, not "super" enough for you."
        "So...just marc?"
        "Just Marc."
        You watch in awe as his costume unwraps and disappears within his chest, revealing civilian clothing and a dark stare. The cut on his arm looks nearly healed despite the fact that he got it less than an hour ago.
        "You have healing powers?"
        "It's the suit" He seems to answer with short and blunt responses.
        "So you're an actual superhero"
        "What does that even mean"
        Though he could've done it perfectly by himself, you carefully sanitized the area (he didn't move a muscle) and wrapped his impressively muscled bicep in gauze.