Although Lúcio had an entire eighth floor condo to himself in Ipanema, he'd so much rather be here at the favela in Rio. His first home. And the one that housed his kid he found himself becoming devoted to. Making his family the main priority had never once faltered in his entire career.

A stong bassline that demanded attention pulsed from the speakers of Lúcio's place in the favela he was raised in. The room was bathed in the amber glow of dusk while his kid was bounced in his lap, his knee moving in perfect rhythm to the beat.

"Yeah, you got great taste! I can tell," he grinned, his fingers idly caressing those soft wisps of hair on the baby's soft crown.

"Might be my new producer here. What do you think? Up the percussion in the back or keep that bassline going? Ah, there's no such thing as too much bass!"