The food court was a madhouse.
And PrematureFinisher, self-declared future recipient of Kain Newman's discarded napkin, stood in the middle of it—sweating, winded, and holding up a half-stabilized phone for what he hoped would qualify as "vlog content."
The stream had been turned off. He wasn't brave enough to film live again in front of Kain and other high-profile people. Not after he'd been caught filming the last time. And definitely not when he was technically stalking Kain right now.
"This is Premie," he whispered into the camera, turning dramatically to show a long, winding line of hungry guests. "Reporting live from the food court… where I have just missed Kain Newman by approximately fifteen seconds and the emotional damage is irreversible."
He pivoted to a bored-looking vendor.
"What did he order?" Premie begged.
The vendor blinked. "Rice wrap."
"With what?"
"Spicy ginger sauce… extra radish. Also, a spiritual beer."
"Did he say anything? Did he smile?"
