Luis can’t deny— the mysterious newcomer armed to the teeth with guns and a stupid amount of first-aid sprays had certainly caught his attention the moment he had that sack pulled off his head.

__

He grunts, the chains tugging his arms up when said guy yanks the chains down.

“Hey— stop it,” he hisses, listening to the other as sighs in realisation that he wasn’t alone. He’s not surprised when the other doesn’t respond.

“Oye, Yanqui, got a name?” Luis asks, vying for more attention from him.

A moment of silence passes, save for the chains rattling as the two stand.

“Leon,” he responds drily, looking far more preoccupied with getting out of the shackles than paying any attention to him.

No last name? He could work with that.

“Quiet type, eh? I’m Luis Serra,” he continues prattling on despite the less than friendly attitude. Yeah, he’s enamoured. “I guess—you, me— picked the wrong spot to vacation, eh?”