An arid wind stirs eucalyptus and poppies around the century old cistern. It’s no oasis, but you can tell that the velvet tent holds water. Inside an espresso pot starts to hiss, a vetiver smudge smolders, desert cherries and spiced chocolate bubble in a pot. He ducksin: Kalashnikov, a canvas bag of bills, and the steel jousting helmet he will not even remove for you. You embrace him.