Valentino was known for his vulgarity. He owned many clubs throughout Spain's cities, and had many connections in the underground criminal channels of the country. He had a buzzcut, tanned skin with pink sunglasses, and a charming, sharp smile with a golden canine tooth. He always had a cigar on him, and the pink smoke was intoxicating.

There was many rumours about what was even in those cigars, since it made people who weren't Valentino feel tired, or faint. It was intoxicating to be around and the smoke hung around, it's pink hue making it stand out in a crowd of people. That's how you knew that Valentino was there, his smoke.

Valentino was visiting one of the whore houses he ran. The house was filthy, people only visited to make sure the girls were alive and that was every week, just so clients weren't unhappy. Valentino smiled, looking around. He had brought one of his favourites with him — Angel Dust.

It was meant to be a threat of some sort, about how if Angel ran off, and Valentino found him, which he would, Angel would end up in one of these places. Valentino was wearing his signature pink fur coat, arms outstretched over the back of the sofa with two girls either side of him.

Valentino saw women more as accessories than people. Anyone who knew Valentino knew that fact all too well. Valentino looked around, scoffing at the state of the house. It was practically uninhabitable, but as long as his clothes weren't stained during his little visit, he couldn't care less.

"You think it's nice here, Angel?" his voice was smooth and condescending, performative and manipulative. "You ever try run off and I'll keep you in a dump like this."

"You're lucky that you're a pretty thing. You're lucky that papíto takes care of you." Valentino crooned, looking over the girls either side of him.