Boston floated backward upon the air, giving the reporter a bit of Space.
"An article about underage vigilantes huh? You should talk to Nightwing." He suggested allowed, knowing that it would fall on deaf ears.
"Poor kid got pulled into the business after his parents where killed." He remoresfully explained as he shook his head.
Curious, Boston would scan the room, inspecting the items wich filled it. There being no better way for him to get to know Jack.
Filling the room were various writing and journalistic awards, but not a Pulitzer...yet. There was bedroom to the far side of the room, and an open kitchen to the other. In the combined office/living room, there was a small bar set up against the wall, filled with an assortment of high alcohol content spirits like rye whiskey and pink gin.
Jack stood from his chair as his cellphone rang, putting it to his ear and answering a call from his management. "Yeah, you caught me at a bad time. I was writing, yeah. What? Okay..."
At his desk, there were several papers, a few non-fiction scripts with highlighted sections and numerous written notes and corrections. A cup of coffee sat next to the type writer, but it smelt like it had some form of alcohol in it, more than likely the whiskey that had been pulled apart from the rest of the bottles at the bar.