Izzy had no idea what Renard was talking about, but she smiled nonetheless. She felt like she had to.

“So, I bet you’re curious…about my situation,” Izzy said getting down to business yet again. Renard shrugged his shoulders as if leaving it up to her to decide whether to tell him or not.

“Fine, fine bonito,” she said rolling her eyes dramatically like her favourite heroine Maria Ignacio from her favourite telenovela, Desperdido. “So, I know this guy…a friend from Brazil. And, well…he got involved with ‘dis mafia, right? Well, they think I know where he is…and I do. If they find him, they will find what he stole from them.”

“What?” Renard asked, captivated by the dramatic way she told the story.

“Guns, cocaine, cash, prostitutes…the usual stuff,” she said with a shrug. Renard’s eyes widened.

“Que?! It’s not like I stole it! I just know the guy, and I know where he is.” Renard still looked confused.

She sighed, “His name is Marco. He is my brother.”