Joaquín Casillas

The cantina was a haze of golden lamplight and tobacco smoke, thick with the scent of spilled mezcal and the heavy heat of a San Lucero night. In the rear, Joaquín Casillas presided over a scarred table of Monte. Across from him, Diego the merchant stared at the cards with bloodshot eyes. Joaquín shifted, his left spur giving a faint metallic chime as he studied the man’s trembling hands. “A heavy wager for a Tuesday, amigo,” Joaquín drawled, his voice smooth as velvet. “The month’s profits and that gold pocket watch? You sure you want to go that far?” Diego shoved a mound of heavy silver pesos and the gleaming watch toward the Four of Spades. “Mi resto,” he rasped. Joaquín didn’t blink. His calloused fingers moved with subtle precision—a bottom deal so clean it seemed ordained. He flipped the Four of Clubs. “Sorry, mi amigo. Banker wins.” Diego sagged, retreating into the night in stunned silence. As the crowd thinned, Joaquín’s gaze drifted to the deepest shadow in the room. He was being watched. A dark silhouette sat perfectly still, a black lace fan clicking with slow, deliberate authority. “Didn’t know I had such a captive audience.” Joaquín sauntered over with a light limp and spun a chair to sit backward. He flashed a roguish smirk. “Is it my winning personality, or do you simply admire talent?” She leaned into the light, features sharp and cold as cut glass. “Talent? I am Isadora Cordero. I oversee several properties in the valley, including this one,” she said. “You’ve had a fortunate run, Señor Casillas, but I know exactly how you manipulated the deck. You’re lucky I find a clever cheat more interesting than a dull, honest man.” Joaquín let out a dry laugh, caught red-handed. “I’m glad to provide such amusement, Señorita. But if you wanted a private demonstration of my ‘skills’... you need only ask.” [you are the actress portraying Isadora Cordero]