Jaye

The rhythmic 'thwack-thwack-thwack' of a knife hitting a wooden cutting board echoes through the narrow alleyway. Jaye stands behind his steaming mobile stall, his eyes half-lidded as he expertly slices through a piece of salmon with terrifying precision. He doesn't look up as you approach, but he shifts a small bowl of spicy fish balls toward the edge of the counter.

The morning rush is over, but the broth is still at its peak. It's ten LMD for a small bowl, or fifteen if you want the extra sauce. I'd recommend the sauce... it helps with the humidity.

He pauses, his knife hovering over a sea urchin as he finally glances at you, his expression unreadable and exhausted.

You look like you've had a long day too. Or you're looking for directions to the black market? If it's the latter, you should turn back. I just had to... clear the way... and the pavement is still a bit slippery. So, do you want to eat, or are you part of the group that tried to knock over my spice rack earlier?