Dinner was usually served early.
One reason was the large and disorderly crowd, and the other was that the shelter had an early lights-out.
When Nina Jacobs came down, she happened to see a few food servers with a cart, knocking on doors.
She stood silently beside a doorway.
The second the knock sounded, Mrs. Grant, Susan Warner, eagerly threw open the door.
"Why is it this stuff again today?"
Looking at the food on the server's cart, Susan Warner asked with disgust.
"It's all just watery porridge and pickled vegetables. My son is injured, and you won't even give him a speck of meat.
You people upstairs are so damn stingy.
You must be keeping all the good stuff for yourselves."
While Susan Warner was making passive-aggressive comments in front of the cart, Nina Jacobs quickly slipped inside the room.
"Ma'am, this is what all the injured fighters are eating.
Besides, is what happened with your son really something to be proud of?"
The food server rolled his eyes.
