Castle nodded at the others at the table. 

"Alex Castlebrandt.  I treach medieval studies at the U."  He gave out his address.  They were welcome and he assumed that either his place or Preston's church would be the best place.  "And yes, I do have WiFi.  You are welcome."  He looked at the kid.  It was pretty clear the kid was running and homeless.  It also was becoming more clear just what he was running from.  Castle didn't think this was your normal runaway. Heck, he wasn't even sure there were any parents left to runaway from.  If what the kid said was true, he had reason to run.  But that didn't make a dumpster any better of a location to sleep or find food.  "Haze, as the Pastor said, if you want to run, I get it.  But back alleys don't offer much shelter or food.  Or protection.  I'd encourage you take the Pastor Preston's offer.   Or, if you want, I do have a spare room at my place.  You are welcome to spend the night.  It seems we are going to look into this thing, but you don't have to be part of it if you don't want to.  We might have some questions for you, but you wouldn't be forced to do anything you don't want to or stay any longer than you desire."

He glanced at the adults as people prepared to leave.  "I do have a couple spare beds and a couch for those who need it.  I'm not quite sure what this 'hunt' is going to require."  He didn't know, but he did have suspicions.  Somehow he had a feeling that he would be seeing a lot of these guys for the next while . . . however long that was.  He'd tell them about the phone when they got to his place.  If they were in, then they were in.   Glancing at Haze he wondered if the kid would be part of the group or not.  He might.  Or he might bolt at any moment.  He wondered what he should do about him.  How old was he?  Was he underage?  He looked like he probably was.  Did he need to call the authorities?  Was he putting a kid in danger?  That didn't seem like a requirement, nor did it seem likely to be helpful.  Still, a pastor might know about these things.  He'd need to ask.  The biker was a bit more of a mystery.  He wondered what a Google search would produce on him.