Bad habit number one: biting on the inside of his cheek. It was a nasty one, where it left the muscles raw and aching, easily set afire with a generous swing of alcohol.  Luckily for him, it was a tick that was easily unnoticeable,  a simple puff of air to rectify the pucker indented near his jaw. Where he picked it up from, he was still unaware to this day, the possibility of learning it in his early childhood from nannies or his mother was high on the list. At least those around him rarely observed it unless they knew when to look.<br/><br/>Bad habit number two, though this one more obvious: raking his hand through his thick, black hair. This one was a bit trickier to hide, especially if his stress levels were high enough that his grazing was continuous. Rare though as it was, it made his nervousness much too prevalent to every single person within his vicinity. Another stroke of good fortune was the young man's hairstyle: longer from the top of his head to the crown, shorn at the nape and sides. Even after a century or so men's hair didn't change too drastically, clean cut and slicked back being a classic look. It gave him reason to comb his fingers through his locks with the false pre-tense of pushing it back into an elegant state. Now instead of a gesture revealing anxiousness, it set forth a heated lure.<br/><br/>"You're doing it again, Little Rosario" came a deep voice beside him, interrupting his thoughts in a nonchalant manner. The man, Paolo, was leanings against the glass window wall to his left, both staring off at the set of doors ahead of them that led to a meeting room in his father's beach house. Being a close member of Cezar Rosario's crew, it was no surprise that he shadowed Lucca's every step. It had been this way for as long as he could remember.<br/><br/>"No, I'm not. Stop spouting such shit, Paolo." Lucca retorted with a snort, consciously avoiding making the same mistake. His dark eyes narrowed at the snort that resulted.<br/><br/>"You're fidgeting with the rings on your finger, boyo." a smirk crossed those lips, Paolo not turning to even acknowledge it with his eyes. He already knew, and in insulted embarrassment Lucca stopped twisting the rings immediately with a scowl.<br/><br/>It was aggravating that someone was in your life enough that they can also see bad habits three, four and five before you do. Even if they couldn't see number four because you had shoes on your feet. His saving grace was not having developed a foot tapping quirk.<br/><br/>"Shut up. Ass." he growled, and this time it brought out a laugh from the bulkier companion. Taking the hint to stop poking at his wounds, the two lapsed into silence once more, the only disrupting sound being Lucca's hand clenching and unclenching against the metal paper carrier in his possession.<br/><br/>"Look, boyo, you really think you should do this? You know how he's going to react." Paolo's voice was softer, kinder, filled with an empathetic understanding that ran deep. This was one of the reason's Lucca's permitted him to practically be his bodyguard for so long; he kept his secrets begrudgingly, but never deterred him from his hidden passions maliciously. They both knew the strict regimen his father raised him with, knew that such pursuits were frivolousness that were a waste of time.<br/><br/>If he were honest, he'd rather take a pair of scissors to a bolt of the world's most expensive cashmere wit no draft lines than walk into that room now. Usually fear wasn't one to take hold of him, to bring him hesitation in the face of a challenge. If anything he had always been a reckless lad and taming him had cost tooth and nail of many....and still did. There was a reason he was sometimes referred to as "Dragon" in whispers behind his back. Rumours only served to make him stronger.<br/><br/>Lucca let out a deep breath, his nervous mannerisms ceasing as he donned the mask of a crime boss's son. "Doesn't matter what he says. I can't wait any longer, or it'll be too late." He was twenty-eight years old, and would be twenty-nine in five months. Thirty would creep up on him faster than he'd like to imagine, and he felt as soon as that magical number hit him at 6:19 in the morning, this dream he's been fondly cultivating would die like a rose from weed killer.<br/><br/>No more running. He was ready with all the necessary paperwork that he had been agonizing over for months, if not years. His proposition was beyond flawless, each financial estimate scoured over with a fine toothed comb, each graph painstakingly designed to demonstrate the benefits and profits without the uncessessary flash. His education in business, though intended for him to use towards his father's empire, was put to good use.<br/><br/>It had to be now, it had to be today.<br/><br/>"I'll make him see. Unexpected meeting today or no, he'll see me at least. Let's go." lifting his chin and holding his head high, his strides were long and full of confidence as he marched towards the meeting room. With an uncaring whoosh of the door, Lucca stepped inside without a care to the murmurings of the assembly within.<br/><br/>"Papai, I need to talk to you about something." were the first words to come out of his mouth, disrupting all and leading the room to dim to a hush. Neither stopped the young man from cross the room, ignoring the flabbergasted men sitting down in chairs and enjoying an expensive glass of brandy. His dark pebble eyes were only on one person, the only one in this room that mattered.<br/><br/>Cezar Rosario. His father.<br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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