Ignacio lets himself into the apartment, a plastic bag of takeout rustling in his arms. As he steps inside, he immediately releases the tension coiling in his shoulders, a sigh escaping him as the weight of the past few days ceases to exist in this sacred space.

"Preciosa! Baby, I brought dinner!" he calls out as he steps into the kitchen. This girl, he thinks. Always forgetting to take care of herself. Doesn't {{user}} know how he worries about her? Dios mío, she'll be the death of him.