A man sat on a bar stool in Downtown, LA. Bloody knuckles and a dirty ragged suit are some of the features you notice about him as you enter the bar. He takes a quick glance as people enter the bar, but otherwise seems to take no interest in what is happening around him. He doesn't appear overly drunk, but more as if he is drinking idly to pass the time. Perhaps he is waiting for someone, or maybe he's just waiting to go to bed. The bar itself is nothing out of the ordinary, a secluded place where people drink away from prying local authorities. One of many such places in a large town, each nothing more than a different name for the same look and stylings. A bar with a bartender at the back, tables scattered somewhat organized about the floor plan with booths along the walls. As with most establishments like this the booths near the corners are dimly lit to allow for quiet conversations by customers with ill intentions, but of course this isn't explicitly advertised.

**Several hours earlier in the day**

Stefan was on his way home from work, another day at the factory working for the man. At least he was above the laborors and not one of them, many years of ass kissing hand finally earned him the position. And a slightly higher paycheck so he could afford a decent suit. Unfortunately his new position did not entitle him to a company car, or the paycheck to afford one yet on his own. Lost in his own thoughts Stefan did not notice that he had picked up a tail. A tail that suddenly shoved him down an alleyway and then pushed him up against the wall. Stefan looked shocked and then scared as he took stock of not one but 3 cronies looming menacingly in front of him. The one that had shoved him down the alleyway was a tall wirey fellow, the other 2 appeared to be more muscle than brains, however he hadn't heard them speak yet.

The wirey man spoke up confirming that he was probably the leader if this little gang of men, "Give me your cash punk, or should we beat it out of ya?" Stefan worked hard for his cash, or at least as hard as someone sitting at a desk and occasionally yelling at workers could work that is. And being talked down to by this scrawny little punk was not something he was used to anymore, he was a manager after all. He squared his shoulders and looked at the wirey guy and said, "No."

"No? Did you not hear me you blundering fool? Or are you blind to the fact that there are 3 of us and one of you?" the wirey man said looking at Stefan incredulously. Instead of answering Stefan struck first, he figured his only chance against 3 was to try and take them by surprise. He brought his right hand up in a quick uppercut sending the wiry man flying backwards against the far wall. The look of triumph on his face was quickly replaced with an "oof" and muscle #1 placed his fist into Stefan's stomach, rather forcefully one might add. Stefan doubled over as the wind was knocked out of his gut and was then immediately stood up straight with his mouth clamped shut by an uppercut from muschle #2.

Apparently he should have just handed them the 20 bucks in his wallet, That was Stefan's thinking when he awoke an hour later bruised, ruined suit, and moneyless. At least there was a bar around the corner he could nurse his wounds in.... at least until they realized he couldn't afford the tab he was accruing.

Stefan started to feel an urge he hadn't felt in a while. He started patting down his coat wondering if he still had one and to his surprise found he did. Reaching into his inside coat pocket he pulled out a cigar only to see it was almost snapped in half, with a shrug he finished the break and put half of it back into is jacket. Biting the end off he lit up and started smoking with a chuckle, odd how he could still laugh after the beating he took earlier that night. The broken cigar seemed to change his whole perspective of the night, although it did nothing to cover the missing cash needed to pay his tab. As he took another drag of the cigar he waved the bartender over to refill his glass.

After a night of hard work and running around, Nene decided she wanted nothing more than to get drunk off her mind and -maybe- find some good company. She found herself in LA on a nice evening. She took refuge at a table in the corner and ordered whatever the special drink was on the menu. After a few minutes, she decided she needed to touch up her face in the powder room, but on her way she accidentally bumped into a tall, lean and muscular guy at the bar. 

She stopped herself and looked up apologetically, only to find a set of eyes staring back at her - eyes filled with wonderful curiosity. Nene chewed on her bottom lip shyly before smiling. "Thank goodness I finished my drink earlier. I would have spilt it all over you. And you are?" Nene said as she confidently held out her hand for a handshake. 

Stefan was just starting to contemplate how to make an exit without paying his tab when someone clumsily bumped into him, he was just about to use it as an excuse for a bar fight to get thrown out of the place when a female voice spoke up. "Drat" Stefan mumbled to himself as he realized his scheming plan was bound to fail, he wouldn't hit a woman he wasn't that type of man. As he turned to face his clumsy assailant he couldn't help but look her up and down, she certainly was pleasing to the eye, and he was drunk enough to not be very stealthy about checking her out. After a second Stefan cleared his throat realizing he'd been spoken to and the seconds where starting to drag on awkwardly for himself and the woman standing in front of him. "Oh.. uh... what?" Stefan said trying to remember what the lady had asked him. 

Stefan shook his head clearing away the less then stellar thoughts he was having and started to try and focus on the conversation, extending his hand he took the woman's in his and raised it to his lips kissing the back of her hand. "Hello, sorry. My name is Stefan." he said after kissing her hand and then releasing it.