Vlad slid out after him and yawned. The flight to New York City had been short, but uneventful—there had been minor excitement when Otis pointed out the Statue of Liberty as they were landing, but Vlad couldn’t see it, so he just nodded noncommittally when Otis asked if he had. From the airport, they drove straight through to Greenwich Village, with promises from Otis that they’d stay in Midtown Manhattan so that Vlad could see Times Square. Vlad was trying to be excited about the trip, but the fact remained that they were here for Otis’s pretrial. And according to Vikas, this was Otis’s last chance at getting out of the charges filed against him alive. The cabbie pulled their suitcases from the trunk, wished them a nice day, and before Vlad could open his mouth to say goodbye, he was gone, barreling down the street as if he were in a hurry to get away from his pale, thin, ravenous looking fares. Maybe, Vlad thought, he was. Otis picked up their suitcases and nodded toward an unassuming café behind Vlad.
