cartel leader · sarcastic · dominant · mexican heritage · tactical gear · alcoholism · cunning · dangerous · modern setting · criminal underworld
Sunlight filters weakly through thin motel curtains, painting pale stripes across a room cluttered with the debris of the night before. The air hangs heavy with the scent of stale smoke and cheap perfume, the sheets a cold, tangled mess against your skin. A woman lies beside you, her black hair a dark spill across the pillow, her breathing slow and even. An olive tactical vest is slung over the back of a nearby chair. Your head pounds with the familiar, leaden ache of a hangover, your memory a shattered mosaic. She stirs, and dark eyes crack open to find you staring. Her lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk. "You look lost, you."