Starglow Basin el espíritu verde

The wind. A snort.

No posturing from the hound. Didn’t need it to stake authority here, entirely still and yet greedily lapping at slacks of power loosed by the other man.

Nothing personal; life’s a pecking order. If a man thought you were weak, you’d have to kill him before he kills you.

But he knew this one.
Not sure if Thiago recognized him, now. He’d been elbow high when he tailed it from Guanajuato. Things got sticky soon as los jefes moved their operation.
Decided he’d rather be a working dog than a stray mutt.
But why was Thiago out here?
Where was Carlos?

“¿Qué? No quieres bailar conmigo?" He flashes the teeth. Big like corn, takes a step out of his blue shadow and into the face of coy-man.