Pho Saigon itself was well lit, with orange and green neon signs dominating the front windows of the eatery. Though Parker had gotten to it first, Aldon was the one who opened the door. He made quick time getting to the counter and shouting something Harvel couldn't understand back into the kitchen.

Aldon pointed out a table with two chairs and a booth near the back and waltzed through a doorway covered with a blue curtain. Parker and Harvel made their way past the many patrons currently enjoying their food, both taking a seat around the little table. Harvel ran his good hand over the false leather texturing pasted over the surface. It gave him a little comfort to know some things were universal.

He'd expected his back to twinge the moment the chair touched it, but again to his surprise it felt just fine. He reached back under his shirt and ran his fingers along the points where the centipedes barbs had punctured. There was something there, not a scar, or a scab. As far as he could tell it felt more like a sponge. It seemed to have soft ridges of some type.

He pulled his hand out and looked at it. It was mostly clean, save for what might have been flakes of skin clinging to the tips of his fingers. Whatever it was he was sure Yiddek would know more about it than he did. It wasn't giving off any heat and he wasn't feverish so he doubted it was some sort of infection. Maybe it was something they'd done while he was asleep.

As it would only serve to worry him more than their whole situation already did, he put it to the back of his mind for the moment. This wasn't hard, his stomach was busy checking all of his other thoughts into the boards at the moment. He hadn't had a decent meal for days. The stuff they had fed him at the infirmary had all been pre-made and reheated.

Harvel looked over to see Parker rolling the top half of her EMT suit down around her waist. He hadn't known what to expect, really. For some reason he'd envisioned there being a radically comical aspect to the suit. Maybe she was a quarter the size when she took it off, or was wearing another identical one underneath. This was not the case.

Harvel would have made a more concerted effort not to stare, but under her compression shirt he could see the types of muscles he'd only ever seen in movies. He didn't envy the lid that got between her and a jar of pickles. Or maybe he did? He was in the middle of figuring that out at the moment. Sexual awakenings aside, it occurred to him that they might not have all that much in common as far as hobbies were concerned.

Harvel wasn't one for exercise himself. He had muscles, but they were work muscles, cultivated over years of randomized physical labor. There wasn't a regimen when you were hoisting thirty pound bolts above your head for a repair shift. You just did it until someone said stop.

If it weren't for his lack of choice he'd have been two hundred and fifty pounds of fat and happiness. As it was he was a hundred and sixty pounds of muscle and thinly veiled depression. Whomever had said exercise made you happy had evidently never been forced to do so under threat of imprisonment.

Harvel sat and let his mind run for a few minutes. The aromas wafting throughout the restaurant were so invitingly delightful he could barely sneak a coherent idea past them. It was the type of smell that made you feel at home even if you were hundreds of miles from familiar ground. It reminded him of his parents cooking. He sat still and absorbed it, staring off into nothingness as the warm twinge of home slowly overtook him.

"So, we've got about an hour before they finish the tow on the AV and they get our spare out of the lot. In the meantime, I happen to have a few questions Harvel." Aldon said, waltzing up to the table and placing both hands firmly on Harvels shoulders. The little warm twinge sucked itself back inside the center of his being like a cuttlefish retreating into its shell.

"I ain't done nothing." He answered reflexively. It was a phrase you learned quickly in the Wharf. If you were born there it was most likely tattooed somewhere on your person, usually above your eyebrow or on your neck. You might even get the local cops to say it if you asked them about the weather when they weren't expecting it. The grip on his shoulders slackened as Aldon chuckled.

"Then how'd you end up here? Spoken like a Wharf boy through and through, so that's one crossed off the list. Look, this isn't an interrogation. I just want to know more about you. Not every day you get a wealthy Tar-Khal doctor with a human waste-walker for a brother. It's especially not every day that the roof of my favorite AV gets ripped off by mercenaries in pursuit of said waste-walker." he said, sitting down next to Harvel, keeping one hand firmly planted on his shoulder.

"Look, if it's about the people chasing us I couldn't really tell you. I saw some sort of symbol on one of the AVs, like a wing with arrows through it, dunno what that means. To put it all out on the table, here's my sequence of events, attacked by a centipede, killed a centipede, got treatment, got on the ambulance, and here we are. You want to know anything else just- actually, where is my brother? He was supposed to follow us." Harvel said, feeling Aldon's grip loosen a bit.

"He's probably still going around the Swamp, takes about an hour longer that way. Now, the centipede bit. I've seen what one of those things can do and seeing as you aren't currently on your way to a morgue in a little plastic box, it either barely touched you, or wastewalkers get better care than the knobs around here. Which is it?" Aldon said, arranging a set of plastic chopsticks and a large spoon in front of him.

"Um, well. Truth is, and I hate to tell you this, but I don't actually know. Look, they told me I died down there or something, so the morgue route was closer than I'd like. The care bit is another question for Yiddek. I'm not sure what he did but my back doesn't even hurt anymore. I'm not even sure why we're doing all of this. If I'm better now why not just chuck me back in the sewers like normal?!" Harvel answered, letting some of his pent up frustration leak out.

Aldon pulled his hand off of Harvels shoulder. "Well, looks like I'm not the only one with questions. You've been a great help." He said, keeping a close eye on Harvel.

"What do you mean? I didn't tell you much of anything." Harvel asked, sighing as he grabbed his own pair of chopsticks.

"Exactly. If you don't know what's going on it must be pretty fucked for your brother not to tell you." Parker interjected, giving him a look about as sympathetic as Harvel could have hoped for. Aldon slapped the table and pointed at Harvel.

"Exactly! Your brother's smart. Smart enough to know you're a bit on the stupid side, Harvel." He said, holding a hand up as Parker started to talk again. Harvel squeezed his chopsticks, feeling the plastic strain against his fingers. He knew he wasn't exactly a genius, but people didn't tend to outright call him stupid.

"You just told us you don't know anything. We might be working for a third party. If you don't know anything then you might be of no use to us alive. Very, very stupid Harvel." Aldon said, watching the chop sticks as Harvel squeezed tighter.

"To us you could be some sort of mule, stuffed with whatever is keeping you upright. Your brother might be a real bastard, using you as a distraction while he moves the real vip with him. He might have aban-" Aldon continued, before Harvel slammed his fists onto the table, cutting him off.

"My brother isn't a-!" Harvel started to yell before Aldon slapped the table again.

"Ah ha! Knew it!" Aldon shouted, pointing at Harvels face.

"Knew what?!" Harvel snapped, still seething with anger.

"Harvel, you're left handed right?" Parker asked. She seemed to understand what her uncle was getting at. Harvels ire subsided, replaced by confusion.

He looked down at his hands, as he always did when he needed to remember left from right. He hadn't even been thinking about it. The chopsticks were bent in the palm of his left hand. The same hand that should have only had three working fingers. All five of which were now balled up into a fist around the crooked remains of his former eating utensils.

"Huh, doesn't hurt. Why... doesn't it hurt?" He asked, primarily to himself. Harvel turned his hand this way and that in front of him. There wasn't even a trace of the white hot anguish he'd felt only minutes ago.

"Dunno. But they were damn well broken when I looked at 'em earlier I can tell you that. Sorry about the stuff I said about your brother, but I wanted to see where you stood on the matter. The hand thing was just a sneaking suspicion I had. Whatever he did it seems like it keeps working on its own." Aldon said, grabbing Harvels wrist to inspect his own work.

Harvel sat again, making a point to rub his shoulders against the back rest on the way down. Still no pain. Well, now he was mad. The last few days hadn't only felt like bullshit, they had been bullshit. This whole night had been bullshit. And Yiddek knew. And Harvel was pissed about it.

He also had no idea what to do next. He knew his brother didn't have any ill intentions, but the real question was why hadn't he told him? Obviously the secrecy route hadn't worked. People didn't go about sending mercenaries after a rumor. And if they knew he was being moved tonight then they probably knew where he was being moved to.

They definitely had money, and quite a bit of it at that. Harvel had never hired mercenaries but he could bet they weren't cheap. That pretty much ruled out going to the Dome. The place practically glowed green if you squinted hard enough.

"You still want to get to the Dome?" Parker asked, absentmindedly attempting to bend his chopsticks back into shape.

"You're asking me? I figured you'd wait for Yiddek to make those sorts of decisions." Harvel answered, attempting a condescending look over the top of his glasses.

"Oh, well, if you don't think you've earned it..." She trailed off, continuing to fiddle with the disposable cutlery. Harvels spine visibly stiffened.

"No, no. I wouldn't say that. Maybe we just make a decision after we get some food in us? You don't even have to help me eat." He said, as a waitress placed a large steaming bowl of soup in front of each of them.

"Shame that. Would've been a sight to see." Aldon murmured before promptly digging in. Parker simply glared at him as she picked up the bowl and began sipping directly from the lip. Harvel, seeing no need to be the odd one out, followed suit.

For a few minutes of blissful peace the trio enjoyed their meal. The soup was so rich, flavorful, and aromatic that if he wasn't so busy eating Harvel might have outright wept. It might have been the stress of the last few days but it felt like the best meal he'd had in years.

"So, how does a smart young man like yourself end up a waste-walker? No offense, just doesn't seem like your first choice of career." Aldon managed to ask between mouthfuls.

"Hmm? Oh, convicted service contract. Got four years for "assaulting" a doctor. Still got a year to go. Wasn't always a smart young man." Harvel answered, wiping a bit of stray rice noodle from the corner of his mouth. This wasn't a subject he was eager to discuss at length. The word assault tended to put people off.

"Assault on a doctor huh? That's usually an eight year sentence, why four?" Aldon asked without missing a beat. Nobody had ever really asked about that. Harvel paused for a second to think of how to word it.

"They cut it in half cause I joined up with the walkers. The judge thought I was a hot head and assumed I'd be dead before I made it past my third year. No need to make it much longer than that, just extra paperwork at that point. My sister got the same offer." He answered, quickly shifting his attention back to his soup.

"Makes sense I guess. Which doctor? I might have to shake your hand." Aldon scoffed, face again buried in his bowl.

"Artie Pellerton. He bought out a bunch of local clinics down in the Wharf. Priced the entire neighborhood out of their healthcare. Caught him after an opening and decked him in the shnoz. My sister tried to fight the cops." Harvel explained, a smile spreading across his face.

He had to admit it hadn't really been worth it, but he still chuckled every time he saw Pellertons face on the net. They'd definitely done a number on him to straighten his nose back out but they hadn't gotten it quite right. One of his nostrils still looked a bit off when he talked. Harvel considered the rise he got out of it a sort of souvenir no-one could ever take away.

"Oh! I heard about that! I think there's a video of it on the net somewhere. I'm guessing the Tar-Khal with all the cops in the bear hug was your sister then?" Aldon said, pulling out his phone and scrolling for a second.

"Yeah, that's Dibbuk. She should have just let them kick the crap out of me. That bear hug earned her four years same as me. Now we're both working in the pipes. She should be midway through her shift now that I think about it." Harvel said, watching the shaky video Aldon had pulled up of the incident.

Harvel had never felt right about his sister being sentenced the same as himself. She hadn't caused any harm, save for the uncomfortable looks the officers had given each other when she'd let them go. Honestly, she hugged her stuffed animals at home the same way when she slept. If you muted all the screaming the video actually came off as heart warming.

She had a gentle giant type of personality for the most part. He'd never really seen her argue with anyone save for Yiddek and himself. She didn't even argue with their parents. Well, there was the onion thing with their dad, but other than that she didn't argue with their parents. He'd barely ever heard her raise her voice, save for when she was tired.