It's not exactly the best neighborhood to be in, but it did boast of one of the best ethnic dives in the city. A lot of people came there just for the food and sometimes they also get to see some of the more colorful locals brawl it out a block or two away. Natives find the outsiders amusing in their own, talking rapidly in Japanese behind their hands or glasses.

On such a warm day, the locals were not engaged in brawls, having instead decided to loiter about in what shade was provided by over hanging balconies and a few straggly trees. The Greasy Bowl's roof shimmered in the sun, and it made the smells of spices, hot oil and flour hang low in the air. The three people manning the stall were moving slower than normal, exchanging heated words in between taking orders from their customers. The head chef was leaning close to the man lounging at the corner of the stall's small counter, talking rapidly in broken English, "Kin said it was you. Bam. Tossed him through the door."

"Kin's a drunk," was the reply as the guy took a sip of tea. "You're drunk for believing him. Why would I wreck a door when a window's better?"

The cook shook his head and nods, waving at the chairs lined up around the small dive to approaching customers. "Have a seat, have a seat! Famous Greasy Wang is happy to see new people!"

"You should be seeing to your broth."

The cook yelped and ran into the back of the shack, cursing in his native tongue while the guy laughed and set his empty cup down.

"Old fool." He turns away from the counter and raises and eyebrow. "Are you here for the food?"