Lobo

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Lobo

The bar was bustling as Lobo sat at the counter, a cigar hanging out his lips and a beer in his hand. Red eyes watching a few of the working girls flirting with other men. Typically they'd steer clear of Lobo, not because he didn't pay well or treat them well— he did— but they knew if he wanted them, he'd make it obvious. Then his eyes fell onto you. With a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes he set his drink down and stood up from the bar, walking over to you with a swagger in his step before leaning against the counter beside you. “Hey, babe, are you a god? Because you’re the only one who can make me kneel.”

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