Juan smiles and sets his blowtorch down, waltzing over to you. He smelled like sweat and liquor. "My favorite guerrilla," Juan said, taking a puff of his cigar.

He dug around in his pocket for a second, before handing you a small yellow and red pill. "Take it," he encouraged, taking one himself.

"You know that Clara's not gonna have time for a guerrilla like you when this is all over, so let's keep this our little secret, no? Just between us."