A frail old man with silver hair stepped into view, wearing a slightly worn-out server's uniform. His face was lined with deep wrinkles, and when he spoke, it was with a clear American accent—smooth and natural, like someone born and raised in the States.
"Welcome," he said with a raspy but warm smile.
Chris's face lit up. He leaned forward, clearly excited. "Hey, we're from the Uni—"
"Ahem." Brandon cleared his throat softly, cutting him off mid-sentence. He shot Chris a quick look.
Chris froze, his smile faltering as he caught the warning. He swallowed the rest of his words.
The old man didn't seem to notice—or maybe he just didn't care. He kept smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling even more. "You folks take a seat. Anywhere you like."
"Thanks..." Chris chuckled awkwardly and nodded. The group picked a table tucked away in a corner and sat down.
As they flipped through the menus, they subtly scanned the room.
