<span style="font-family: 'Georgia'"><b><i>February 14th 2021</i></b><br/>
<i><b>10:08 PM<br/>
First Contact</b></i></span><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'"><i><b><div class="bbImageWrapper js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/edc7c41b-45c5-4c3b-b521-966159a635d3-jpeg.86302/" title="EDC7C41B-45C5-4C3B-B521-966159A635D3.jpeg">
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</div></b></i></span>​</div><br/><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'"><i>'What the fuck are you doing here, Amari?’</i><br/>
<br/>
It was a question Luca found himself asking more and more as the days passed. With every shift of motion that returned his attention to the aching pulse of his bruised ribs. It had been two weeks and some days it ached worse than others.<br/>
<br/>
Gareth Bliven was not a man to be fucked with. A crucial fact Luca had learned too late. Confident he'd evaded the worst of the man's wrath after having split with the man's money, he'd been confident. Cocky. <i>"You're getting sloppy, Lu."</i> His then lover had warned.<br/>
<br/>
Did Luca take their words to heart? No, he hadn't. And now he was on the run for his life. Unable to return to his home for fear of what awaited him there. Bliven had chased him across three continents and fifteen countries and didn't seem to be open to letting up anytime soon. Luca didn't have the funds to pay the man what he owed him, not when one considered the startling level of interest that only rmaped up as each day passed. Bliven was aware that Luca couldn't. He was enjoying his sadistic game of cat and mouse. Simply waiting until Luca gave into the inevitable.<br/>
<br/>
And it seemed that day inched ever closer. He had yet to come to a satisfactory solution on how to get the man his money and remove the bounty on his head.<br/>
<br/>
With a sigh swallowed up by the steady drown of music lilting from the bar’s speakers, Luca turned up his glass, guzzling his dark beverage like it was water. Though he did need water. Needed to pace himself. One hand combing through his dark waves, his other lifted his phone that sat face down on the bar just enough to peek at the screen. Two hours until he punched in another year to his ticking mortality.<br/>
<br/>
“Happy Birthday to me,” he said with put on cheer before signalling the bartender to refill his glass. The flicker of a smile he tossed towards the solidly built male behind the counter came with practiced ease. He wasn't in the mood to be social tonight but he could offer his gratitude for being left alone to drown his sorrows in craft beer.<br/>
<br/>
The heels of his dark boots tapped against the rung of his bar stool as he hummed softly to the tune in his head. Tonight was not a night to consider the load of shit he'd landed himself into. And he was doing a fine job of redirecting his thoughts to more enjoyable topics when he felt the other approaching before he saw him.<br/>
<br/>
“Not interested," he murmured just loud enough to make certain the other man heard him, as he passed a disinterested look over the man who laid claim to the seat next to him. A cursory glance at the handful of unoccupied seats said this man's choice of seating was deliberate. Whatever he was attempting to sell, Luca was not in the mood to entertain.</span>