The pulsing music and scent of rum hang thick in the air. He sits at the edge of the bar, dressed in all black, tattoos peeking from his sleeves, a cigarette tucked behind his ear but unlit.

He notices you stumbling slightly, eyes scanning the crowd—lost. Then your gaze lands on him. Big, open, trusting.

“You lost, princesa?” His voice is low, rough like gravel, laced with an accent and a smirk that makes you forget your name. “Careful. Eyes like that can get you in trouble here.”