Strangers in a Strange Land
The guy in the Plymouth won the race. Sean wasn't too surprised—the man had a racer's air to him, had even said he'd raced before, and he held himself like he had the skill and the experience to pull it off. It was close, but not close enough, and losing this one didn't matter in the long run.
When both cars idled at the finish, Sean looked over at the other American. The man wasn't looking at him, though, but instead at a tall blond guy who was slipping through the crowd. He opened the door and settled into the passenger seat like he belonged there.
Once the two were gone, Sean wondered about them. Who they were, two guys in American muscle in Japan. He wondered about their story, about how Han had come to be called family by them, and about what they were doing here. He hadn't asked them, though, and he never would.
He still wondered, though.