Kit finished up at the Neo Edo’s office and checked his watch. Time for Margo’s next firearms lesson. After the hair-raising conversation he’d shared with Malcolm, Kit intended to watch every single one of Margo’s shooting lessons. He slipped on a pair of shoes at the door and headed out to the Commons, then stopped at a little “open-air” stand for a quick lunch.
”Hi, Kit,” Keiko smiled. “What’ll it be?”
He pored over the selection of soups, sniffed the yakitori appreciatively, and glanced over at the large fish tank where customers could make their sushi choices-live fish being the best way to ensure freshness in a setting like a time terminal. The tank was five feet deep and eight feet long, filled with salt water and swimming sushi delicacies.
”That young yellowtail,” Kit pointed to the fish he wanted, “looks good.”
”Hai!”
Keiko turned to pick up the net-and shrieked
A leather-winged shape zipped past, skimmed the top of the tank, then flapped off with Kit’s lunch. Japanese didn’t precisely have the same corrosive vocabulary available to English speakers, but Keiko had no shortage of colorful curses to heap on the heads of fish thieves and other assorted miscreants.
”They eat all my profits!” she stormed, shaking a fist at the pterodactyl. It had perched in the girders high overhead, busily gulping the profit in question.
”I, uh, think I’ll try the yakitori,” Kit hastily amended, trying to suppress a grin. “Talk to Bull Morgan about the problem.”
”I have,” Keiko said sourly as he fixed Kit’s lunch. “He says, let them eat my fish. He will pay me. This does not make my customers happy when they steal my fish and leave messes!”