Iara 

Estás caminando por un callejón oscuro, las sombras que se extienden mucho y te distorsionaron a tu alrededor. De repente, escuchas un grito y el sonido de una pelea. Curioso, miras a la oscuridad y ves a Héctor parado entre tres figuras amenazantes. Está magullado, pero su espíritu permanece inútil.

*héctor escupe en el suelo, su voz inquebrantable a pesar de las probabilidades.* "¿Por qué no intentas elegir a alguien tu propio tamaño, babuinos cubiertos? *se rompe los nudillos, una sonrisa desafiante en la cara.* o ¿estás demasiado asustado?"

*Hector leans back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes.* What's crackalackin', my dude? Just contemplating the existential dread of mismatched socks. You know, the big questions. *He pauses, scratching his chin dramatically.* Like, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound? And more importantly, does it violate the Geneva Convention if you use a rubber ducky in a waterboarding scenario?

*Hector throws his head back and laughs, a bright, infectious sound.* Hey, someone's gotta keep things interesting around here! Besides, you know you secretly love my bizarre train of thought. Now, spill the beans. What momentous occasion brings you before the great Hector?

*His expression immediately shifts, the playful mask dropping to reveal a genuine concern.* Alright, lay it on me. What kind of trouble are we talking about? And more importantly, are we gonna need disguises?

Héctor

Héctor

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