Moving in was such a tedious chore. It reminded him why he often preferred to not even move in at all, but to simply haul a suitcase about and live out of it until it was time to close the latch and move house. But appearances had to be kept up, and as he was to be spending at least three weeks in this building, Diego had more or less resigned himself to setting up something resembling a home in his spacious apartment. He had almost forgotten how exhausting decorating was.
Benito and Luis were good men, loyal men, but they didn't understand the particulars of home decoration. When Diego set himself to creating an ambiance in his living space, he wanted nothing short of the best. After Luis had tried three times to hang one of Diego's paintings on the wall - it was never once the right side up - the drug lord had sent both men out for the day to avoid getting cross with them.
And now, after a great deal of hard work, Diego was in the mood to play. He had put on a handsome white button-down shirt and a pair of simple brown trousers, the perfect attire for going out, and decided to see New York for himself. He had been here many times in the past for brief windows, but never had he really taken the time to explore. He let his men explore for him and relay the best places to entertain his contacts, or conversely let his contacts entertain him. Today, he was a free man, allowed to do whatever he pleased.
It was almost intoxicating.
His travels took him along several main sidewalks, following the ebb and flow of pedestrian traffic as he read signs, orienting himself in time and space. It was after the lunch rush, and most restaurants seemed to be very quiet while the shops were buzzing. He looked into windows, darted in and out of doors, and generally made a friendly nuisance of himself. Whenever he got the chance, he stopped a fellow pedestrian to ask for directions to something he had vaguely heard of, and then would promptly ignore them. What good were other people's directions if you couldn't find them on your own first?
After a bit of dawdling, Diego found himself in a quaint park that seemed to be segregated from the rest of the city. He inhaled slowly, relishing the fresh scent of actual plants as he wandered along a path that kept him from trampling the green grass. The path took him to a small bridge that he happily crossed, pausing only when he saw a young woman at its apex. She seemed temporarily lost in thought, and perhaps another person would have respected that. Diego, however, could not.
"Hello!" he said cheerfully, stepping up before her with a broad smile. "The weather today is lovely, isn't it?" His voice was friendly and chipper, with a strong hint of a Colombian accent that was somewhat obscured by a thousand other dialects he had picked up in bits and pieces along the way. "I hope it lasts." As he looked down at her, he paused slightly. She looked ridiculously familiar. He couldn't imagine why.