Inside the bar, Ernesto tried to make his way around the chairs and tables as quietly as he could without accidentally making a ruckus for its patrons who sat around in sparse numbers. The bar was of a rather humble size, with a drab color theme making up its walls and a rustic preference for tables and chairs. The ceiling was dotted with iron-wheeled chandeliers hanging from the wooden panels above, contributing to the bars nearly tavern-like aesthetic.

Normally, he would have expected the tavern to be nearly deserted on Dia de los Muertos, but it apparently looks like there were a fair number of people who were not in the party mood; his guess was that maybe they didn't have families, apart from their families, or just flat out didn't bother to set up an ofrenda. When he thought about it, Ernesto somehow couldn't help but notice a small feeling of discomfort rising from the bottom of his chest, like the notions he had about why there were still customers made the air a little more difficult to breathe. It already didn't help that a minor was trailing right behind him who was here anyways because of his own insistence and not from Ernesto's own judgment.

Ernesto could feel the stares of some of the patrons present being directed at his back, though he was sure that Tulio's presence was not helping at all. Silently growling to himself, Ernesto hoped that the boy had better not even try to talking to any of the men seated around the area. Turning in the direction of a bar counter, he briefly looked left and right for a staff member he could talk to. He stayed at the counter for a few seconds with Tulio having already taken a seat on one of the nearby swivel-stools. When the boy swung around on the seat for a little bit, the seat let out a tiny squeak which got Ernesto talking again.

"Will you not?" he harshly whispered, baring his teeth without trying to open his mouth too much. His head zipped left and right hoping that he wasn't loud enough to get the attention of the few surrounding patrons. When he still found Tulio slightly swinging the seat and making it squeak, Ernesto clamped his hand on the boy's shoulder, pressing down hard and squeezing tightly. The pressure got the boy to finally sit still, even if it was just for a few seconds.

Ignoring the boy's scowl, Ernesto looked to see an older barrel-chested man coming through a door from behind the counter. For a moment, he tensed up. "Great, just great," he shuddered in his mind, "why did I think coming back here was a good idea?" Ernesto did not take his widened shocked gaze off the man behind the counter as he steadily plodded his way from one end to the other. His face was rigid and emotionless while his fingers brushed lightly across the wooden countertop. He stopped short when he looked out across the counter to find a young boy sitting on one of the stools. He wasn't looking at Ernesto at the moment, but Ernesto could already feel the other man's narrowed eyes drilling into the boy's own spirit.

"Are you lost, chamaco?" came the large man's gruff and somewhat judgmental voice. His hands were pressed down on top of the bar counter and the man leaned forwards slightly towards Tulio. The posture made the boy uncomfortable, forcing him to lean back slightly, but just not too much to avoid falling off.

"N-no, sir," Tulio winced. He was starting to dislike this already. He didn't hold out hope that he would consider looking for a guitar elsewhere yet, but at the very least, he wanted Ernesto to just ask for the guitar and get it over with, at least if the other man would say yes. The man didn't linger with the boy long when his eyes swiveled over to meet Ernesto, who stood at a meter's distance away.

"Why hello," the large man greeted, his tone and demeanor suddenly having changed to one disturbingly more positive than it was when he talked to Tulio, "Isn't this a surprise? I thought you'd never come back!"

"So did I," Ernesto huffed, not even bothering to return the other man's smile.

The man continued, seeing as Ernesto wasn't going to keep up the conversation, "I always knew you'd come around. I still thought you still had plenty left in you."

"Well, you're still wrong," Ernesto growled, "I didn't come here for you." His eyes momentarily shifted to look at Tulio, who only held on tightly to the seat of the stool as he sensed his older chaperone's hostility. The older larger man briefly caught the movement of Ernesto's eyes and likewise took a look at the boy.

"This boy," he faintly pointed at Tulio with a renewed curiosity, "is he with you?"

Neither Ernesto nor Tulio answered, not wanting to let the other man interpret any possible response as dirt or use it as some form of ammunition. Hearing no answer, the man continued on his rambling. "Well, I suppose if you're not here for me, then why did you come back, Neto?"

Ernesto bristled at what the man had just called him. He hissed, "Don't call me that. I'm just here to borrow one of your guitars."

"One of my guitars, you say?" the man raised his eyebrows. "Now this is a surprise." He made a half-hearted grin as he looked to a wall which had several assorted electric guitars hanging on it. "Ever since I met you, you never considered asking me to let you play one once!"

Ernesto felt a greater shiver going down his back.

The man wasn't done. "I mean, from looking at you, I thought you were a 'guitar'-type of person, but then you surprised me when you not only avoided my guitars, you didn't even comment on them."

Tulio looked back and forth between the two men, trying to get a grasp of what the other man rambling to Ernesto was talking about.

Ernesto found another moment to interject, "Yes! Yes! I wasn't interested in guitar back then," he lifted up a hand to try and signal his disinterest in the conversation, "but of course, times change." He then was able to work up the nerve to lift his head up and look the other man in the face. As much as he hated to do that, (he could already feel the man's drilling gaze pierce into his own soul with a smile that seemed almost predatory) he knew he had to get it over with. "Just…I'd only like to borrow your Ibanez archtop just for tonight," he said, pointing to the shiny, polished, flamed maple-colored electric guitar on the wall in the middle of the other guitars hanging alongside it.

"That one?" the man verified, pointing to it with thumb.

Ernesto nodded.

Without further fanfare, the man turned to the guitar wall and after stepping onto a stool, grabbed the Ibanez archtop and lifted it off the hooks. Bringing it over to the countertop and placing it down, Ernesto grabbed the instrument delicately to avoid scratching it and got off his barstool. "Alright, let's go, chamaco," he said to Tulio, who promptly slid off his own barstool. He didn't look back to see the man narrowing his eyes.

"So you did bring the boy in here with you," he spoke up, freezing both Ernesto and Tulio in their tracks. Tulio looked back slowly with wide eyes, feeling much more nervous. Ernesto looked back as well, feeling half-scared and half-infuriated inside.

"Yes, I did," Ernesto sighed concededly. "I was going to leave him outside, but I decided not to leave him alone. I thought asking you for your guitar would not take long at all," he grumbled. He turned back in the direction of the door. "I'll bring it back to you before the night is over." He then continued to walk until he grabbed the door handle.

"I'll be here all night, so don't worry about being late to return it!" the man called from behind. "I still need to pay you back for your 'help' last time you were with me, Neto."

That made Ernesto yank the door open, to which Tulio had to jump away to avoid getting hit. "You already paid me, Ariel," he retorted, "Tonight is free work."

The man, whose name was Ariel, let his smile droop a little, though not enough to count as a frown. "Then I just might have to charge a late fee if that guitar's not back before I close up," he spoke calmly, crossing his arms. Ernesto and Tulio both hurried on out the door, leaving it to swing itself shut.