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</div></div><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">Luca had a tendency to give people the benefit of the doubt, and lots of second chances to redeem himself. He was an optimist through and through. So the awkward yet uncomfortable squeeze to his wrist didn't frighten him and cause him to become alarmed, he assumed that Marcus didn't know his own strength. There wasn't any negative long term effects, so the strange event hadn't caused  the flow of the conversation to slow down, or detract from Luca's Latin charm as he offered a compliment.<br/>
<br/>
His intake of alcohol made him a lot more daring than he would normally be, but Luca knew his limits, and still remembered that he had a photo shoot in the morning, for a Tom Ford ad.  It was getting late, and despite the fun time he was enjoying with Marcus, the fact he had work the next day was a sobering thought. The night was winding down, especially after last call came. Customers were having their last drinks for the road, and some were heading out for the night.<br/>
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Luca bit his lower lip, and laughed a little bit, "More than a Samba, you must be flirting now with me." he blushed. The pink glow was still on his cheeks as he was reminded it was time to go.<br/>
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"Ah...yes. It is time. I must work in morning." he said lifting from the bar stool as they left the nightclub, and started for the car.<br/>
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Luca wasn't prepared to say yes to Marcus when he was asked if he wanted to go home with him.<br/>
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If only it were Friday, then again models didn't operate on a 9 to 5 schedule either. <b>"It not a good night for me, Marcus. I have photo shoot tomorrow.</b> <i>Desculpa,</i> <b>I sorry."</b><br/>
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Luca was blown away that there was something Americans took to avoid hangovers, because Luca was definitely headed in that direction.<br/>
<br/>
<b>"Seriously? They make this?" </b>Luca seemed to ponder the idea as he settled into the seat to prepare for the trip home.<br/>
<br/>
Admittedly, he didn't want to LOOK bad for the Tom Ford shoot. His agent would absolutely hate him arriving late, bleary eyed and unable to focus on anything the photographer asked him to do.  The need for him to avoid that overrode his common sense. Impulsively, Luca took the pill not knowing what it would do to him.<br/>
</span></span><br/><i><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">Down the hatch.</span></span></i><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"><br/>
At first, Luca thought it was the movement of the car, that was causing him to slowly drift off to sleep. When he could no longer keep his eyes open, his head slumped off to the side where it came to rest against the window.  Luca was out for the count, and unaware of anything that had transpired between his taking the fake anti-hangover pill and anything that happened after he fell asleep. During the long drive, his breathing was so shallow that it didn't appear he was at all. If Marcus was worried about him, a brief check during the pit stops on the way would ease his mind. Each time Luca breathed, his soft inspirations were followed by an equally soft exhale of air from between his slightly parted lips.<br/>
<br/>
He was still and quiet the whole journey from the city to the remote place in the mountains where Marcus had a cabin. The trip to escape New York City could have possibly taken enough time that it was close to daylight by the time they arrived there. Luca didn't move an inch until the car came to a stop, and he heard Marcus' words in his ear. As he was helped from the car, the model was having such a wonderful dream. He almost always had good dreams, and in this one he was dancing with Marcus and then he had to wake up for work.<br/>
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<b>"¿</b><i>Que horas são..?</i><b>" </b>he mumbled about what the time was. It was like jolt of electricity in his sleepy brain when he thought he was late and missed the alarm.<br/>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Translation: "What time is it?"</div>
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<b>"Oh </b><i>merda! é hora de se levantar! "</i>Luca's blue eyes flew open, and he realized he wasn't in his bedroom at the model apartment.<br/>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Translation: "Oh shit! It's time for me to get going!"</div>
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<b>"Oh</b> <i>naooo</i>. <b>oh </b><i>naooo! </i><b>This..? What this is? Where I am? Aiii! Marcus</b>! <i>Meu Deus vou ser demitido. </i><b>I lose my job!"</b> Luca replied, in the process of freaking out.<br/>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Translation: No, no! My God, I'm going to get fired!</div>
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Once Marcus carried him to the couch and settled him on it, Luca tried to find his legs again. Panic was written all over his face. Due to the Diazepam and alcohol in his system, his gait was unsteady and it caused him to stumble then fall instead of walk. <br/>
Emotional and rather dizzy, he felt sick to his stomach with worry over his photoshoot as well as not being oriented at all, and Marcus was there.<br/>
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Luca was dazed, and so confused at he couldn't process the words to express them properly. When he couldn't find the words to express his discontent, Luca could only burst into tears.</span></span>