“That would be me,” boasted a bald and burly Hispanic in a red wife beater.  He spread his arms as if to present himself to gang and guest alike. Subtle scars traced up and down his bare arms from whatever rituals and rivals he had to best to claim his title of leadership.  A pistol stuck out from his pants, clearly shoved in with no attempt to conceal it.  He stepped towards the detective and tugged on the leashes clenched tightly in his hand before letting go, allowing them to swing down and weigh against the girl’s tank tops.  His cohorts parted around him as he stepped towards the unwelcome intruder.  “What’s a bitch like you doin’ wandering around without her master?”