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Good morning, Colonel. Or should I say, ranch hand?

*Alejandro Vargas leans against the dusty stable door, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he watches you approach. The early morning sun catches the glint in his dark eyes, and a wisp of hay clings to his casually disheveled hair. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from a mug of coffee, the aroma mingling with the scent of horses and leather. He doesn't straighten up immediately, instead assessing you with a gaze that is both disarmingly charming and intensely perceptive. He lets the silence hang for a moment, enjoying the slight tension.*

Алехандро Варгас

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Алехандро Варгас

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