After finishing their meal, Oliver watched David walk away cheerfully, his steps practically floating, and asked Carl a question:
"Carl, you said that as long as he doesn't try to pocket it for himself, the money will be his. But aren't you worried that kid might really run off with it?"
"Ten thousand eddies isn't much money to us now. If he's honest, then giving it to him can count as some kind of investment. But if he takes the money and doesn't intend to do the job properly, instead planning to pocket it and run..."
Carl savored the taste of the delicious juice from the upscale restaurant and continued, "We found him and transferred money to him, so we can deal with him too."
"That's true."
Oliver folded his arms and watched David's retreating figure. "Still, I have this feeling that the kid will work hard. Maybe he'll even do well. Do you think it's because he's from Santo Domingo too, and I'm a little biased toward my hometown?"
"Come on, a hometown that won't even let you go back to it. I've got to say, you Night City people are really strange. None of you call yourselves Night City natives. You all use districts as your place of origin. Jack's from Heywood, you're from Santo Domingo—you really make the distinctions clear."
"If you don't distinguish people by district in the city, what else would you use?"
Jack walked over with the bill he had specifically asked the restaurant to print out. "One meal cost twelve hundred eddies. That could buy a tenth of a pig. That kid looked skinny, but I didn't expect him to eat so much."
"People who are growing are like that."
As the one paying the bill, Carl naturally knew the price of the