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    Summary

    Life in the Nova Corps meant odd hours and often random meal times, but this suited Garthan, most days. It meant that Errin's stall was quiet whenever he swung by, save for the odd tourist or two, and Errin knew better than to try small talk on an off-hours Corpsman trying to have a good meal in a bit of peace before going back on the beat.

    Today, Garthan made it midway through the bowl before his perfect daily moment of peace was ruined by a tourist. Off-worlders were common on Xandar: the planet was an interstellar trading hub, after all, with free trade agreements signed with most intergalactic civs, but years in the Corps had given Garthan a healthy understanding of trouble, and this tourist positively reeked of it.

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