<div style="text-align: center">《 Alvaro 》<br/>
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<i>Location: Abendblume Garden House, Abendblume Resort<br/>
Addressing: Guard, Hale, Sou </i><br/>​</div>Things were taking a crazy turn with the Korean woman and Benjamin, one of the door guards was sent to fetch 'the felon'. He'd never met 'the felon' before and had only seen glimpses of him from across the resort grounds. He knew other people who had, though, and the portly guard was wishing one of those people were going instead of him. Was Hale really going to have that woman 'marked'? That seemed so unhinged, but then again, the day had been unhinged and after hearing about a man being shot and killed, Benjamin couldn't see a little scarlet letter, so to speak, being worse. He left the woman's screams and protests behind as he made haste to the garden house.<br/><br/>He stopped at the end of the path leading up to the small cabin-like garden house where the man lived and considered how the exchange might go. "Ahem...Mr. Felon..."<br/><br/>No, that was definitely no good.  "Ahem..." Benjamin tried again. "Ahem...Senior Felon..."<br/><br/>That was even worse. His midwest accent slaughtered his attempt at Spanish. Did the felon even speak Spanish? Benjamin had assumed so since, from what he'd heard, the felon was Mexican, or Cuban, or maybe Columbian. They were all the same to him, brown folk from south of south.<br/><br/>"Ahem..." he stood up straight with his thumbs hooked into his belt. "Mr. Hale wants to see you at his office right away." There. That sounded serious and official and he didn't have to worry about tripping over a name. He was satisfied with himself for having found what he thought was the perfect professional opening. Now he just needed to walk up the path, knock on the door, and deliver it.<br/>"Ahem..." A voice came from behind him and he jumped and spun, hands up, ready to fight, or swat flies. There stood what could only be 'the felon'. Dark skinned, shirtless, tattooed everywhere it seemed. Very Mexican-looking. Or Cuban. Columbian? Benjamin's inspired words left him.<br/><br/>"You lookin' for me?" the felon asked with intense dark eyes contrasting his casual tone.<br/><br/>"Um...um yes. Yes..." Benjamin stammered.<br/><br/>"Mr. Hale wants to see me..." the felon finished the guard's sentence for him. "Well, I would love to see Mr. Hale! It's been some time. So you go back and you tell him I'm on my way." He smiled and reached up to pat the guard's cheek. "Vamos!"<br/><br/>Moments later, just behind the guard who'd summoned him, Alvaro stepped into Mr. Hale's office. Grey cargos slung little low, black military boots a little worse for wear, and a loose white tank made up a bland but efficient outfit. He carried a SIG-Sauer P226 tucked in his waistband along with a holstered hunting knife at his side. Short, covered in ink, some good, some bad, with a gaze that seemed to dart everywhere at everyone until it landed on Hale made for a well-rounded vision of a man whose buttons might be easy to push and triggers quick to pull.<br/><br/>"Hola, Senior Hale," he greeted as he came to stand before the man. "It's a rare day that I'm honored with your call. Is there something you need from me?" the Hispanic man's brow ticked up. He wanted to have something needed of him. He rarely saw Hale and even more rarely spent time with the other people in the community. This rare moment of having a job was much appreciated. "There seems to be some disorder here at the resort. Need something mopped up? Put back in its proper place?"