<strong>Character</strong>: Rich Han<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Gary Danko Upper Dining Area, Fisherman's Wharf<br/><strong>Time</strong>: Present<br/><strong>Attire</strong>: Running shoes, cargo pants, t-shirt, backpack<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Rich, Rose<br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>Rich took one glance out the front door and sucked his teeth.  "Looks like a tough break for it," he said after a moment, his frown audible.  "We can scuttle up and down the storefronts, but ultimately we have to cross the street.  That's where things get messy."<br/><br/>In reality, they were spread out enough that he wasn't really worried about crossing the street.  Stealth was his forte, after all, even with a backpack full of food.  Running at 30 kilometers per hour… not so much.  For that, he needed his bike, and his bike was in the back alley.  It was worth the risk of escaping through an urban box canyon; good bikes were hard to come by.  And, if worst came to worst, he could always bring it back into the restaurant and blockade the door.<br/><br/>“Let’s check the back alley before we do anything rash,” he said, skirting somewhere between wise and humorous.  Rich stepped away from the door and toward the kitchen.  When he arrived at the back door, he gently eased it open with one hand, then looked down the alley toward where he had left his bike hidden beneath a thin black tarp.<br/>