Vicente stopped walking. He took a slow, deep drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke directly into the air. "Lucas," he said quietly.
"Yes?" Lucas asked, hopeful. "I...I didn't mean it."
Vicente's lips curled into something between a smile and a snarl. He started to walk, slowly--deliberately, taking a few steps towards Lucas. Every step he took made the air suffocating. Suddenly, everyone thought the world had shrunk and it was too small for Vicente's presence.
He laid a hand on Lucas' neck, poison seeping through the pores. His fingers squeezed into the narrow parts of exposed skin, burning into it deeply.
Lucas cried out in agony.
"You've got balls," Vicente said softly, almost kindly. "I wonder how long this courage of yours will last when you sleep tonight."
People held their breath, afraid to move or talk. Some wondered what Lucas had been thinking to call Vicente a pussy. The man was not known for tolerating insubordination of any kind.
