The bell above the glass door sounded as Arslan walked into the diner.
It was the next day after the events of those hitmans coming after him, and he felt like going and chill for a bit since he had the time to do so.
He hasn't been out to a restaurant in a long time and he just needed some time for himself. Even though there were some hitmen coming after him, he knew he was safe enough to hang around Queens, but not that safe to bring his girl out with him.
The place was an old school Greek spot off 30th street, with faded red vinyl booths, low yellow lamps, and chrome counters that had seen decades of grease and coffee.
The air smelled of grilled onions, fried eggs, as it was past 2PM, so the lunchtime rush was already gone. Only four booths had people in them, quietly eating soup and scrolling their phones.
