Townsend conducted a quick sweep of the place before letting anyone in. “Clear,” he declared, stepping aside to admit the rest of them. “Let’s sit down and have some food. I’m sure you’ve got questions.”
Rada glanced around and put an arm around Lennon’s shoulders. “I think Lennon might want a shower first. And then maybe we should all eat something. Should we order some food?”
Ben glanced at Townsend, who winced. “We’ll have our guy send some over,” Townsend told her. “I’m not feeling secure enough to call anyone in the area ourselves right now, not if they know it’s coming here.”
“I can respect that, actually.” Lennon managed a little smile. “Hey, Rada, can you see any glass in my scalp or am I good to wash this crap out of my hair?”
Rada inspected Lennon’s head for signs of injury. “You’re good to go.”
Ben grabbed Lennon’s arm. It was a reflex action. “Wait. Glass in your scalp?”