Actually, now that he thought about it, a restaurant would have provided a much nicer supply of energy than he would likely be getting from the man in the taco truck.
He wasn't even really sure why he'd decided getting a bite to eat would be a good idea when he'd happened about the taco truck in question, except that he was sixteen and a (hopefully) growing boy (at least five more inches; that's all he was asking for) and he needed all the sustenance he could get.
Aquamarine took the simple taco that was prepared for him—greasy ground beef, shredded lettuce, and white cheese packed into a hard shell—with something of a disgusted look on his face. He took a bite of it all the same, and since it didn't taste quite as bad as he was expecting he almost thought about being generous and letting the poor taco man keep his energy.
But then he wouldn't meet his quota, would he?
Saint Sergio