Scott tugged off the last piece of his Nightwatch gear.
"And that's the end of that…"
He stuffed it deep into a duffel bag, and slipped into a black dress shirt and pants.
Civilian mode.
His bones ached, his mind was full, and all he wanted was food for the girls, some fresh air, and five minutes without someone throwing a punch at his face.
A neon sign flickered half a block away.
[LONG DRAGON NOODLE HOUSE]
[IF YOU LEAVE HUNGRY IT'S YOUR FAULT]
Perfect.
The bell chimed softly as he stepped inside.
The restaurant smelled like soy sauce, ginger, and a hint of old incense. Behind the counter, Mr. Wong… tan, wrinkled, wise, and built like he'd been lifting sacks of rice since the Cold War, looked up from his newspaper.
He grinned.
"Ah! Smart boy is back.
The man shuffled forward.
"Your order—extra-large family pack, enough to feed whole army—already ready."
Scott smiled.
"Thanks, Mr. Wong. I'm picking up for—"
