"Do you want some?" Orel stopped in front of a vending machine, he looked at the snacks as if they were things he had never had before in his life.
Makun could not believe his eyes, he could not believe this was the same person who had outsmarted people he had never met in just two days.
"No thank you." Makun refused.
He did not like owing favours, when you owed people favours, they might just use it as a means to guilt trip you into going against your principles to help them.
He had learned it the hard way.
He looked on as Orel grabbed a packet of biscuits from the vending machine, some Parle-G, an old Indian brand which had gotten back into success lately.
Then Orel quietly resumed his walk.
What is bothering him? Makun thought, ever since they had left Naija City, Orel's usual self had disappeared, is it a case he is on? He asked himself only to shake his head.
