Alejo had been doing just fine following the trail. Sure it had taken him a good half hour to notice the trail. He’d stumbled on an actual notepad of blank paper on the last raid, and since that discovery had been practicing drawing portraits- Rebecca, Nadia, Sparrow, Marina, Margarita, and the dark haired man he’d once gotten high with on a daily basis. It had been nice, and his hand felt looser than it had in years. Before long, he might even bring out his tattoo equipment. He’d been so absorbed in some shading on a picture of Rebecca, he had almost been hours late instead of just a few minutes.
But he had noticed the skulls, and he had followed them like an obedient dog who sat because they were sure that a pat or a treat came next. Alejo had ben doing real good right up until the last skull, which he stepped on in his search for it. It cracked and turned to dust under his shoe, making him wince as he moved his foot away and gathered up the tiny shards of bone.
Crap.
Alejo pocketed it and walked into the bar, half hoping Sparrow wouldn’t ask for the boys. He’d be so disappointed, Alejo hated disappointing him.
“Hey, hey. My piroca is a topic of conversation for myself alone, irmã,” he said, not realizing the easy joke that he’d just set up. He walked up to the bar, closing the door carefully behind him and actually hanging the brown coat he’d taken to wearing whenever he was worried about zombies being around.