<span style="font-style: italic">“Not yet, but we can remedy that, now can’t we?”</span>Zanzibar’s voice was pleasant and low, as if inviting the man to share a secret, as if the stranger was the only man in the world and no one nowhere was more important.<br/><br/>A puff of air left Luciano's lips as he laughed quietly. He took a large sip from his glass and sat it aside. Luciano leaned over a little bit and placed his elbows on the table, discreetly taking note of how appealing to the eyes this stranger was.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“Perhaps we could find a more private venue. I have a little something to help that headache. I’ve been told, it is good for what ails you."</span>Zanzibar added.<br/><br/>Staring at the man, he let out another chuckle because amidst the insanity of the situation, this stranger had something he wanted from him.<br/><br/>As much as he wanted to know what it was, he did not appreciate the way this man spoke to him.<br/><span style="font-style: italic"><br/>“I'd rather eat dirt”</span>Luciano responded in a low, clear and amused voice.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“Sir, they say that no legacy is so rich as honesty and I am certain that this is a trait you are proud of, but your likes too often bend such acts as to inhabit people's spaces without their permission, to your own selfish purposes. You are speaking to the wrong person. There's a brothel house just around the corner if this is what you are looking for. Now, do leave. Your short presence was insulting enough.”</span>The Italian said in a very slow pace and his grays perused the man behind the table while he carried the drink again to his lips, without breaking his gaze from the man.