He thought he knew everything about you.

After all, Alejandro knew all of the Vaqueros. You had celebrated countless victories, parties and trips to the pubs together. So, he thought he knew a good bit about you.

But he had been quickly humbled after a day of training in the unforgiving Las Almas sun. Alejandro had been redressing in the locker rooms when you had walked in. With a heavy sigh, you return to your locker, slipping off your shirt in the process.

There they were. Two faded scars horizontal across your chest.