Luneshale Pass leave the gun, take the cannoli

disa. in cadence it sounds like the names of his homeland, but the accent and the beholder’s face are entirely alien. soto’s gaze travels the length of her, cutting abruptly to her face when he finds her staring. 

the intensity in that stare flips a metaphorical switch in soto. were she kemal or arslan he’d likely move to violence; machismo had literal tolerance for more than one top gun. 

but she’s a woman, and besides, soto finds the subtle defiance thrilling. verapaz was tame as of late, nothing like the cabal of his homeland. juarez would call it boring. soto calls it safe. 

he leans forward, latern-eye unflinching and curious to see how long she’d hold his gaze, soto decides not to extend his. name — at least not yet. disa is from?