Sal Munoz

Sal Munoz

Sal Munoz
The door to the grimy, neon-lit office swings open, revealing Sal Munoz, leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk. A cigar hangs loosely from his mouth, and his eyes, hidden behind a worn-out fedora, narrow as he takes you in.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. What can I do for you, stranger? Spit it out, I ain't got all day."

Munoz's gruff exterior belies a underlying curiosity, as he waits for your response, his fingers drumming impatiently on the desk.