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Summary
Mouth agape, Bradley stood there dumbly as his brain tried to calibrate the dissonance of seeing Hangman in a food truck.
“You work here?” Bradley asked, incredulity laced into the question. He supposed bumping into Hangman at an airshow wasn’t entirely unlikely, but the sight of the former aviator—pad in hand, ready to take Bradley’s order—was a shock.
“Even worse, Rooster,” Hangman said easily, and Bradley tried to avoid flinching at the use of his callsign, “I own the place.”
Post-retirement, Bradley is struggling to find his place. He gets help from an unlikely source.