Anthony Castille was a name she wasn't going to forget. He had been polite, even though there had been blood on his hands. It left his own clothes in a manner that wasn't right. Where she offered to help, still not knowing what to do with herself, she did as she was asked. He walked her home, made sure that she was alright and less shaken about everything. He didn't even ask for anything in return, but all she gained was a name. That name and moment that would get caught up in her head and daydreams until she finally set forth to go in search of it.

It was a search that led her to Queens, but during a day trip she had made sure to take a car for. He was a veteran that had been through Vietnam, currently working in a butcher shop. With her fair amount of hero worship working for her and a deep blush on her cheeks as she stepped through the entrance, he was the last to take notice of her. It left her worried and questioning if she shouldn't turn back, but even as she was prepared to chicken out, someone asked to help her and that was when he looked at her. Time stopped and that was the moment she knew she couldn't walk away.

The two were wed before the year was over, with a child on the way not much later. Little Francis Rocco Castille. Named after a lost father and a fallen uncle. A happy family that held its storybook moments, until real life broke through it all. Hardships came and fell as work became harder to come by. The shop closing, he had to find another. Refusing to allow any wife of his to work, Angela was to stay at home with Francis. Through strong and tight knit family, they felt like they were getting somewhere. That somewhere led his father to making regular runs straight to Hell's Kitchen. Right down to a near fatal incident for Anthony, as the Westies were making a move in the area. It was one that left the man with an ill fated limp for the rest of his life.

As little Frank Castille grew up, so did the crime rate in the area. The world around them deteriorating that much more, nothing felt safe. The tight family times were long gone. Everyone was having a difficult enough time taking care of their own. Payments were made for 'safety', where no one was actually safe. Before Frank was even 18 and able to enlist himself into another world, he was living in what was deemed the most dangerous place to live. Where he wanted to stay, to help out more with his family, having helped his dad out where he could in the shop. The more knowledgeable butcher's apprentice if there ever were one, his parents wanted him out of this life. Taken care of and doing something bigger than them. Following in his father's footsteps, without having to watch how things continued to play out here.

Spending twenty years as a Marine, it was a life that called to him. Leave was always spent back at home with his parents, more worried about them than they would ever give him reason to. But he knew the truth, how hard things were, how crooked it all was. His parents always able to placate him and keep him out of it all, make it seem like it was better than it was. Only because this was how life was. He couldn't change anything. It could only be made worse, until he chose to stay there. To retire after his twenty years of service.

Relocating himself and his family, Boston held a draw to it that he didn't completely understand. Not until he met the woman he would marry, feeling more like a repeat story of his parents first meeting. Except for one particular change in it all. She was a fighter. And there was nothing more attractive to him in that moment. He felt the need to give chase, to learn what he could about her. There was a fire in her and he couldn't get enough. That was also how they ended up divorced, after having two children and four years of their lives together.

Living in Boston for about five years now, divorced for three, his efforts are mostly placed into taking care of his children and keeping his shop running. Sidelining to his quiet hobbies of properly slicing up his own choice cuts in meat and pretending to be some sort of chef behind closed doors. But who could ask for more?