The man who had first introduced himself as Diego almost dropped the empty whiskey glass as he did his best to place it carefully on the darkened oak at his shadow encrusted corner of the bar.

The ice clinked hollowly and the bartender kept an eye out for the refill signal from the man who had sat on that stool for several hours until Sam had arrived.  When no signal came, the bartender turned his attention back to a group of girls celebrating something and calling out for more shots at the other end of the long bar.

Diego swayed a little as he stared at his hands and tried to fold them ever so casually. He tilted his head to look at his audience of one.

“Every child knows the name of Juan Ponce de Leon.  The school books laugh at the biggest fool in history and his ill fated quest for the Fountain of Youth.  It is taught that he died in July of 1521 from wounds received in battle, his body buried in a town named in his honor.  San Juan, Puerto Rico.  The gravesite exists; I have visited it many times.  Oh how I wish I had died that day instead of drinking the water.”

Sam looked around to see if anyone else was paying attention to the man who had just claimed to be the famed explorer, Ponce de Leon.  Everyone else in the sparingly crowded bar was consumed by their own problems and didn’t seem to care about the ramblings of a drunk at the bar.

Diego suddenly seemed to sober up a little as he gazed unblinking at Sam.

“I need your help.  My supply is running low, and I need to go back.”

Sam looked again at the swaying man next to him and the supply of half eaten lime wedges around him.

“Even if what you are saying is true, how can I help you?”

Diego, or Ponce de Leon, smiled.  “You can teach me how to Tango.”