"How about two corns and four skewers?" Laila called over the sizzling, waving a crumpled note toward the vendor.
"I'll take the corn, thanks," Hazlee said, fingers twisting the hem of her hoodie.
A man at the end of the bench laughed too loudly and slammed his beer bottle down hard enough to make the vendors glance up.
"Hey, you two look good together," he slurred, eyes stuck on Hazlee. "Mind if I join?"
"Back off," Laila said, voice flat.
"You got attitude, girl," the man said, leaning in. He reached. His hand grazed Hazlee's shoulder.
"Don't touch her," Laila said.
The hand went higher. Hazlee froze, cheeks bright. A vendor shouted but kept his hands on the grill. The lane smelled of oil and spices and cheap beer.
"Hey!" someone cut in.
Bruno pushed through with Miguel and two more cadets. He was in civilian jeans, but the way he moved made the small crowd part. He stopped a half-step from the bench and scanned the scene.
"Step away," Bruno said.
The drunk turned toward them, mock offended. "Who you, then? Some campus cop?"
"Harbor Police Academy," Miguel said, loud and unapologetic.
The drunk laughed and stood. "A cop won't do anything."
"I will," Bruno said, and there was a calm there that made the drunk's laugh falter.
Laila's foot found the man's groin before he could jab his chin out with another stupid joke.
"Back off," she repeated, quieter this
