juliettefaulknerâ:
   She chuckled to herself. She knew she was going to regret asking before the words even left her mouth. âSo⊠whatâs a gringo then?â It didnât take much money to assume it was a category she fell firmly into, and probably deserved it too. She knew that parts of Rio werenât exactly the richest places in the world, so there was certain to be a divide between locals and tourists.
   At his question, Juliette turned to face him properly for the first time. âYeah, I just fancied some time to myself. Not something I get much of at home.â Uh oh. Had she just revealed something she shouldnât have? Normally she was quite cautious when travelling alone, but this stranger had got her talking now and she was saying things without really thinking, so she hastily added âI have people who know where I am thoughâ. But it was nice of him to warn her of potential danger, even if he wasnât yet to be trusted himself.
   âAi, a gringo? Foreigners. âAmericansâ usually, butâŠâ He trailed off with a shrug. Now, he wasnât exactly in the business of being rude to tourists, but it was hard to not feel a little⊠resentful towards some of them, particularly the more entitled-acting ones. Still, some were very gullible and that had made for some easy money-making back when he was younger and needed to help out his struggling family.
   At least sheâd had the sense to tell people where she was - assuming she was telling the truth and not just trying to protect herself from him, of course. It wasnât his job to protect tourists, he knew that, but something about spending time at the Temple had made him all the more inclined to help people where he could. âlisten, girl, iâd just stay out of the favelas if i were you. a lot are decent, but you can never be careful and youâve got no way of knowing which ones are which. steer clear, alright?â bossy? maybe. but his intentions were good.
âWell,â she raised a brow. âIf thereâs one thing I can assure you about, itâs that Iâm not American.â Juliette paused for a moment, realising that there was no way she could actually guarantee that. Not her blood heritage anyway. But it was always best not to put too much weight behind that thought, so she brushed it aside like usual.
 The guy on her left was still projecting a friendly-ish vibe, enough to make her stay sat there. She figured that he could probably tell a good story, and was keen to see if she could draw anymore out of him. âFavelas. Right. Got it. That sounds like a sensible enough suggestion to me, anywayâ She paused for a moment, before hopping up from her seated position and looking down at her companion. âI donât know about you, but I could really do with a drink. Can I buy you a coffee for being so helpful?â












