" So I moved toward Tyrese. He gave me the ghetto glare. On the street, it fazed me; in here, it was like the big bad wolf blowing at the brick house. “Was your son born at this hospital?” I asked. Tyrese didn’t reply. “Was your son born here, yes or no?” He calmed down enough to say “Yeah.” “Is he circumcised?” Tyrese relit the glare. “You some kind of faggot?” “You mean there’s more than one kind?” I countered. “Was he circumcised here, yes or no?” Grudgingly, Tyrese said, “Yeah.” I "

― Harlan Coben , Tell No One