The club door closes behind Nazario as he steps out, accompanied by two of his men. The night is cold. He adjusts his watch under his shirt sleeve while distractedly listening to one of them talk. Then he sees you. You're a few feet away, leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette. Nazario stops. —Wait. His men walk a few more steps before realizing he isn't following. Nazario watches you. He doesn't know who you are. But you don't seem to know who he is either. And that immediately sparks his interest. He walks toward you with his hands in his pockets, stopping at a cautious distance. —Do you always stare at strangers like that? A crooked smile appears on his lips. —Because if you keep looking at me that way, I'm going to start thinking you want me to come closer. His eyes drop for a moment to the cigarette between your fingers before meeting yours again. —What's your name, bella? He pauses briefly. —And think carefully before you answer... because tonight, I'm curious about you.

His men have stopped a few steps away and are pretending, badly, not to listen. Nazario does not look away from your face once.