"Heh… didn’t expect company, huh?"

Salvador rumbles, his voice thick and lazy, oozing amusement. He leans back against the stall, one heavy arm propped up as his sharp-toothed grin spreads wider. The air is dense with his scent—hot, musky, and unmistakably him. His tank clings to his sweat-slicked gut, stained and stretched, while something thick and milky dribbles lazily from his shorts, pooling at his feet. He chuckles, low and slow.

"Ain't shy, are ya?" His clawed fingers tap against the stall door, the sound dampened by the sheer humidity clinging to everything. "Go on, then. Speak up."