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Maybe it’s in a dark alleyway in the guts of downtown LS, amidst overflowing dumpsters. Maybe it’s in the back of a seedy, crowded bar in Blaine county full of drunk men who’d turn a blind eye. Maybe it’s out in the wilderness of the Grand Senora, no witnesses around but the saguaro and the boulders. But he approaches you and the second you lay eyes on the self–confident way he sidles up to you, a little off–kilter on his feet and smirking like he’s already gotten what he wants, you know you’re not going to be able to say “no” to this stranger.