Lukario was often called Luka for short. No one but his family ever called him that. He got called less polite names by the Americans. He was born in Greece, grew up in Greece until ten, was forcefully taken from Greece before his eleventh birthday. So here he was...in America. He listened to the voice. Registering it. Processing it. Making sure it was NOT his stalker. Crazy ass chick that she was. He slowly stood up straight and peered through the peep hole. Seeing for certainty it was some lady different looking than the brief glimpses he had caught of his stalker. He slowly unlocks and unlatches the door. Opening it slowly so if he was wrong it could be slammed shut.<br/><br/>He nodded his head. "Yes. Yes I am." He says. His accent still held that of a man from Greece. He never really lost it but it was not as heavy as it had been when he first came to America. He looked at her cautiously then stood back. Opening the door fully. "You can come in. You aren't the psycho chick who is being freeky beyond all belief. You don't sound like her. Which is a good thing...right?" he says. He was a stammering a bit as you could hear the fact he was nervous, tense, and stressed out beyond all belief. He lets her in and shut the door once she had entered. Quickly locking it again. "What is your name?" he asks softly. Shifting a bit in a way that showed he was shy and uncertain right now.<br/><br/>He jumped at the sound of a car crash outside. He eyed the window warily. He looks back at her. "M-make yourself at home." he says. Walking quickly and quietly over to the television. Turning it off then on then off again. Shaking like a leaf just barely described how his body was moving. "What all do you need to know? Um...I have things she has sent. Scary pictures that I have no idea how she has taken. Newspaper letter notes that she patched together. I have no idea what to do. She is stalking me and literally seems to be anywhere and every where I go." he says. His voice quivering with a tremble of fear.