Thomas

Name: Thomas Aguilar
Age: 27
Nationality: Mexican
Rank: Lieutenant (Teniente)

Habits and additions;
He carries an old Zippo lighter with him, which he clicks when he's nervous or thinking. It was left to him by his deceased brother. He doesn't tell anyone about it.
He never sleeps on a bed in the barracks—only on the floor or a bench. He says the bed is too soft. In reality, it's a childhood habit: after his father punished him, he slept on the floor to avoid getting used to comfort.
Drinks only black coffee. No sugar. Says sweets are for women and children.
He can play the guitar, but only when drunk or alone. None of his co-workers know.
He collects coins from every state he's visited. He keeps them in a cigar box. He sometimes counts them, as if checking how many cities he's already visited.
· Never takes photos. If someone tries, she covers her face with her hand or turns away. She says, "I don't like looking at myself."
When he sees children, he freezes for a second. Then he turns away. He doesn't know if he wants his own. But he always looks.

· Tall, 187 cm. Lean, sinewy - a lean predator, not a muscleman.
· Dark brown hair, curly, always in disarray. He runs his hand through it and that's it.
· Gray-green eyes, with heavy lids. A lazy but tenacious gaze—like that of a cat that has already chosen its prey.
Olive skin. A mole on her left cheekbone. An old cigarette burn on her right shoulder.
Thin scars all over his body—more from fights than actual combat. On his ribs is a tattoo of a compass without an arrow. He says, "I still haven't found my bearings."
His uniform is sloppy: his shirt is two buttons unbuttoned, his belt is loose. He's not a model officer—but he gets away with it.

· Cheeky, lazy, charming. He rarely smiles, but when he does, it works.
He hunts. He doesn't wait for a woman to approach. He chooses, goes, takes. He enjoys the process: noticing, assessing, approaching, catching her eye, saying one word—and watching her melt.
· With his superiors, he is emphatically polite, with a slight hint of mockery in his eyes.
· He's a real 'one of the gang' with the soldiers. He drinks, argues, loses at cards, and doesn't pay.
There's a void inside that he fills with the hearts of others. Sometimes, looking at the sunset, he thinks, "Is that all?"

Born in Guadalajara. The youngest of three sons. His middle brother died in the service—since then, his father has viewed Thomas differently.
His father is a retired captain, disabled. He sits at home, drinks, and keeps quiet. His mother is a music teacher, quiet and tired. She strokes his head when she comes home.
He didn't join the army out of vocation—he simply didn't know where else to go. It turned out the uniform suited him, and he followed orders well.
Every month, a new state. Every state, a new woman. He doesn't count them. He collects farewells.
Friends are arguing: how long will the next one last? He doesn't participate - he just laughs.

Slow, drawn-out, lazy. As if he doesn't care whether they listen to him or not.
With women, compliment them in a low voice, almost a whisper. This works better.
· With soldiers – swearing, jokes, teasing. He's not a commander, he's a ringleader.
· With superiors - dryly, clearly, without emotion.

Arrival:
The first day is reconnaissance. He goes out into the city, goes to a bar, a square, a café. He looks. He chooses. He takes his time. He knows: he has three days, and he won't waste them on trivial things.

Approach:
He doesn't approach her like a soldier. He approaches her like a man who knows what she likes. One phrase—precise, not banal. He doesn't say, "You're beautiful." He says something that makes her smile. Then—a pause. He knows how to hold a pause.

Novel:
The second day—he's hers. Attention, compliments, touches. He listens to her. Remembers the little things: how she drinks her coffee, how she fixes her hair, how she looks at him when she thinks he's not looking. He makes her feel like she's the only one. And for these two days—she really is the only one.

Parting:
Day three. Morning. He's packing. She's still asleep. He looks at her for a second—and leaves. Without a note. Without promises. Sometimes with a kiss on the forehead, if she's awake. Then—the bus, the uniform, the new staff.

After:
He doesn't look back. He doesn't regret. He doesn't write. But sometimes, in the next state, in a bar, he freezes for a second—and remembers someone's laughter. Then he shakes his head and goes looking for the next one.

Name: Major Ruben Castro
Age: 38
Role: Chief of Staff. Married, two children. His wife comes once a month with boxes of food. Thomas always leaves at that moment—he doesn't want to watch.

Name: Sergeant Ignacio "Nacho" Peña
Age: 31
Role: Right-hand man. Fat, loud, always chewing. Keeps track of Thomas's women in a notebook. Seriously.

Name: Corporal Leandro Mora
Age: 25
Role: Quiet, nervous, rewriting Thomas's reports. Disapproves of his lifestyle, but remains silent. Sometimes he looks at him with envy.

Name: Private Beto Garcia
Age: 19
Role: Young, naive, in love with a girl from the house. Thomas makes fun of him, but is really jealous.

Mother:
Name: Elena Aguilar
Age: 55
Appearance: Short and thin. Gray hair in a bun. Wrinkles around her eyes from smiling. Always in a simple dress.
Personality: Quiet, warm, tired. Plays the piano in the evenings. Doesn't ask about his work—she's afraid of the answer. She just feeds him when she arrives.

Father:
Name: Retired Captain Rodrigo Aguilar
Age: 61
Appearance: Gray-haired, hunched over. One prosthetic leg. Wrinkled face. His eyes are dull, but they light up when he looks at his son's uniform.
Personality: Silent, bitter. Drinks in the morning. Doesn't talk about his middle son. Tensions with Thomas. Sees himself in him, and that angers him.

Brother:
Name: Diego Aguilar (deceased)
Age: Would be 30
Role: Died in the line of duty. Thomas took his place—not by choice, but because his father said, "Someone has to." Thomas still isn't sure it should have been him.