"I'm fine." He shook his head lightly, speaking indifferently, yet his expression betrayed discomfort.
"I have a way to get you out of here, wait for me a moment!" Summer Ford pushed him into the bathroom, then turned around and left.
When she returned, she had a hat in hand, a black baseball cap bought from the airport, its brim extending enough to cover half of the face when tilted down.
Summer Ford led him out, first surveying the airport, then guiding him through the less crowded back exit of the hall.
At a nearby taxi stand, before they could flag a cab, several luxurious Rolls Royces halted abruptly in front of them like a royal guard on a procession.
The car doors opened, and a group of men in black suits emerged.
They respectfully greeted the man supported by Summer Ford, and upon seeing his hand injury, concern was evident in their eyes.
One man stepped forward, seemingly intending to inquire about his situation, but was stopped by a glance from him.
