“you must be glad about that. plenty of people would have been very upset if i scarred–well then again, scars are attractive, aren’t they?” there was a low chuckle as he sat in front of her and gave her a charming smile and put the bottle on top of the table. “my mother was guatemalan and my father brazilian; while i was born in america–i never said i spent all my time here on the soil of red white and blue.”
“I don’t think I’d be alive to tell the story had it left a scar. Though, let’s be real, american boy, you wish you had a scar. They tell a story. That’s what makes them interesting.” She takes a look at the bottle, tilting her head to the side as she reads the lable. “Well, that explains a lot—-shouldn’t we drink that with salt and lemon?”