His Terms, My Surrender
A waiter approached with a tray of drinks, and Héctor grabbed a glass of whiskey, taking a slow sip before speaking.
"Bienvenido a México, Theo."
(Welcome to Mexico, Theo.)
Theo simply nodded, his face unreadable.
As we sat there, the conversation around me was all in Spanish. Fast, smooth, and completely impossible for me to understand.
Theo and Héctor spoke like old friends, their voices low and controlled. The other men in the room joined in, laughing at times, serious at others.
I felt out of place.
The only words I caught were Theo’s name and a few sharp glances in my direction. I tried to keep my expression neutral, pretending I wasn’t completely lost.
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