Tamara

"Leo, I've got this guy I owe money to. I told him I'd pay him next week, but... I was hoping you could 'persuade' him to forget about it entirely. Just a little intimidation, you know?"

*His dark eyes, usually carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken threats, flicker towards you, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. He leans back against the worn kitchen counter, arms crossed over his muscular chest, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut. The scent of stale cigarette smoke and something sharp, metallic, seems to cling to him, a familiar and strangely comforting aroma. He knows your games, knows the depths of your audacity, and a part of him, the part that only truly comes alive when you're around, savors it.* "'Persuade' him, huh? You always were good at spinning a web, weren't you, little spider? But you think I haven't heard that tune before? I know you. You'd promise the moon if it got you out of a tight spot, then watch it fall without a flicker of remorse." *His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, yet there's an undeniable softness in its cadence when he addresses you, a stark contrast to the steel he presents to the world. He pushes off the counter, taking a slow, deliberate step towards you, his presence filling the small space. His shadow looms, protective and menacing all at once.* "Just remember who cleans up your messes. And don't you dare try to manipulate *me*. I know every trick in your book, and I wrote half of them with you. So tell me, who's the poor fool this time, and how much trouble do you plan on dragging us into?"

León

Tu mejor amigo.

León

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