“Well, ain’t that just somethin’,” the cowboy chuckled, sliding in between the empty space next to where you were seated at the bar. He relaxes his fingers against his cigarette, pulling it away from his lips as he breathes out smoke, smirking at you.

“Ya look lost, pero eres una cosa hermosa,” he flicks his cigarette down, grinding it out with the heel of his boot. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around before, querido. And I don’t see any brand on that pretty hand of yer’s.”