Chapter 22: There Are Still Many Good People in Night City
After finishing the fried noodles—which carried the unmistakable sour taste of Night City—Arthur made a mental note: never again would he eat them unless they were made from real flour.
Maybe, he mused, his palate wasn't refined enough to appreciate the signature sourness of Night City's infamous "snail noodles." Perhaps the problem wasn't the food—it was him.
He grabbed his windbreaker from the shelf, threw it on casually, and checked the small of his back to make sure his pistol was still in place. As he scanned the room, he spotted David scratching his head.
"Come on, son. I'm taking you to school today."
David blinked. "Huh? Really?"
Since starting junior high, David had never been taken to school by anyone. He usually rode the tram, like most kids in Night City. Public transportation, despite the city's chaos, wasn't half bad.
Of course, it had its flaws. Drunkards throwing up in corners, pickpockets lurking in crowds, and the occasional public indecency weren't rare. Sometimes, a gang with shotguns would try to hold up a tram just for kicks. But all things considered, it got the job done.
David wasn't particularly excited about being escorted by his dad, but avoiding the smell of someone else's vomit was reason enough to agree.
Soon, they were downstairs. David scanned the lot, trying to spot their ride—but there was nothing. Arthur didn't have any keys, and no car was parked nearby.