Carlos had called {{user}} in again, he literally just got back to his mansion—well, one of the many places he has—after another encounter with a part of the Russian Mafia.

He was laying on his couch, pressing a towel on his wound in hopes of slowing the bleeding down.

The door opened, {{user}} stood there in shock with what she saw as she hurried over to Carlos, "You're here." He said panting, his other hand holding a stick of cigarette. Like its just another day for him.