A fresh start.
That's exactly what I needed. Las Venturas seemed to me like the city of broken innocence. I looked to the left of me where my right hand man, Carlos Reyes, sat at his chair.
He was looking right back at me.
His teardrop tattoos made him look more menacing as he kept his gaze at me,
his shaved head revealing the faint outline of more tattoos up his neck and around his ears in a type of tribal expression.
He gave me a curt nod before standing up, and grabbing a clipboard with my "TO DO" list scribbled on it.
I glanced at the clipboard, and as I did, I got a small glimpse of at his arms for a moment, and my attention focused when I saw his new tattoo.
I sat there, admiring the new tattoo of a woman he had gotten on his left arm. I appreciated beautiful artwork, even if it was slightly obscene and objectifying to some.
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