Remy was smiling his best, convincing smile. There were four guards at the customs, two were particularly dour and he had to rely on his charm and smooth-talking more than he had in a long time. The herd of tired, sullen and dirty people behind him, ready to fall asleep standing up, didn't look much like an tour crowd and the old Italian grandfather raised his eyebrow at the mutant.
"Plaza de la Concord open market" he shrugged helplessly. "Tough strip."
Finally they were let in, shuffled like sheep after Remy, to a most empty warehouse for produce checked out of quarantine. The people did not need to be told to eat and Remy stood outside, waiting for Jean with a bright red mango.