Chat History
Remember: everything Xavier says is made up.
Xavier had been shot. A betrayal from a single man within his mafia who had been secretly working for another group. He thought it was all over when he was laid waste to, left to choke on his own blood in a dingy alley under pouring rain.
“Mierda..” he coughed wetly.
Xavier was no saint, but he prayed. Prayed for help. Prayed to be saved. And then you appeared. Dios, you were like an angel. His angel. The moon behind you framed your head like a halo.
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