<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">Marcus was more pleased to hear he'd misinterpreted Luca and that he would be sticking around. It meant more opportunity spent to hopefully see him. Luca was sweet, and Marcus said nothing about the hungry young man wolfing down his food, or the way he covered everything in mayonnaise. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and that was what mattered.<br/>
<br/>
“My pleasure,” Marcus told him when he explained that the words meant thank you. It was nice to see someone still appreciative, and not expectant.<br/>
<br/>
“It's okay, Luca. Your English will get better. I'll help you,” he offered with another warm smile as he showed him to his car. The more Luca spoke and showed that bright side of himself, the more Marcus seemed drawn to him. He might not have fallen into the lines of exactly what he imagined so far, but in a way, this made things better. Marcus pulled up a new contact tab and handing his phone to Luca, allowing him to put in his number.<br/>
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“Yes, I can show you many places here,” Marcus told him.<br/>
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“I don't know Samba, but I know of a place. You can teach me,” he told him as he took him home. The figured out a day that worked best for the both of them, which ended up being a Saturday night. Marcus knew the exact place he was taking Luca too. He hoped the young man was impressed.<br/>
<br/>
Oh Luar was the place to be on a Saturday night. It had a mixed crowd, plenty of regulars and those that came and went just to get the experience. There were multiple areas to dance, and the bar was spacious, made more comfortable with it's all leather furniture and granite bar top and tables. Smoking wasn't allowed inside, and typically it was upscale enough that people had more on their mind than simply getting trashed. They played a mix of music, but mostly it was geared towards Brazilian dance. Marcus led him through to the bar, hoping this was a place Luca could ease into considering Brazilian culture and American culture blended to one here.<br/>
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The man who came to serve them appeared to be the owner, catching on that his bartenders were having a hard time catching up. He was dressed in an immaculate suit, his expression friendly.<br/>
<br/>
“Hello I'm <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Ffotos.fotoflexer.com%2Fcab0227a96442de5c6dae058f358f4de.jpg&amp;hash=c0bef1c25156aef3dfdcc61137ce10e7" href="http://fotos.fotoflexer.com/cab0227a96442de5c6dae058f358f4de.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(196, 84, 84)">Tomaso</span></a>, what can I get you?” he spoke, his Portuguese accent mostly faded, but still detectable.<br/>
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“My friend here might be missing home. Perhaps a Brazilian import?” Marcus ordered, and his intentions were not purely selfless. Getting Luca intoxicated was still on his list of things he wanted to see.<br/>
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“Id?” he asked, mostly because of how young Luca looked. Afterwards, Tomaso poured them both a half glass of golden <i>cachaca</i>.<br/>
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“To start the night,” Marcus spoke, holding up the glass before taking a sip.</span></span>