Uriel's stroll through the boomtown of Nepleslia Prime was... interesting. If you look close enough at any society, one would see exceptions to the partially self imposed and partially perceived rules. Example: Nepleslians as a whole are brash, brutish thugs at their nature.
However, there was an exception nearby: Four men smelling of oil and earth were sharing a beer together having an idle yabber about the day's events, including the huge nugget of ferrous ore and deposit of gems they found and sharing a round of drinks to celebrate the occasion. The true sparks of brotherhood could be heard in their voice - times were tough but they had eachother and the day's little victories to keep them going.
However, to most of the galaxy that would the exception that proves the rule. Just in the alleyway of the bar was someone slumped against the wall, clearly drugged out of his mind, reeking of alcohol and chemicals. Alone, unloved, and possibly self inflicted. It seemed that for every success, there was failure to make success seem all that more valuable in a place where everything can be torn out from under you with a phone call or a wrong move. The ones who died immediately were lucky. (Maybe, Nepleslians aren't too sure on an Afterlife, and are still getting it figured out.)
And sometimes, just sometimes, you could get out of that canyon of a rut if you were determined enough, had the right friends or a good hand dealt to you. You could essentially reinvent yourself if you tried hard enough. Go elsewhere, fade into obscurity. The refuse from The Lady of the Night fell into the ocean and Enzo watched, and savoured the moment. A new lease on life, out of the canyon and to wherever he pleased in life.
-
Meanwhile, to more basic matters and away from navelgazing, Luca blinked as he looked at Robert and gave him a quizzical glance, but he then resumed his Mr. Yamada persona by oogling at a woman whose cleavage you could practically lose your dog in.
Rob, I'm not Boss! I'm just a tourist! He sent Robert a telepathic message before seguing in to Mr. Yamada's crass personality, "Damn she has big 'uns!" He took a sip of drink to whet his palette, Nice beard, by the way.
That aside, there was still an hour or two until evening would come to cast an orange shade over the sky, and the archetypal Nepleslian nightlife would rise and rear its head and things would really get interesting.
However, there was no time like now for things to get interesting, as a man eight foot tall and almost half as wide clapped a hand on Mr. Yamada's shoulder.
"Oi, are you 'itting on me girlfriend?" He asked, obviously annoyed at the tourist's unwelcome attempts on his perceived property.
"No, just observing," Mr. Yamada held up his hand with a grin, "No touching. Would never touch her unless she wanted touches."
The big Nepleslian's face scrunched up in a mix of emotions, most of which were linked to/or hostility, "You wanna touch huh!?" He drew a fist back and threw a wild haymaker, "TOUCH THIS, BITCH!"
All it took to dodge this, if you were focusing, was a slight lean to the left side, so Mr. Yamada did just that. However, Luca did realise something, if he participated in this fight, he might blow his cover - then again - if he didn't, he ran the risk of getting his face pummelled in - either outcome would be detrimental.
He decided to go with the former and counter Mr. Big's unchecked haymaker with a left jab directly to the nose. Mr. Big didn't see it coming and even leaned into the punch, and the sound of dislodging cartilage could be heard.
"I know kung-fu," Mr. Yamada smiled, not dropping the accent, but his sunglasses and spectacles drooped, accidentally revealing his eyes to Mr. Big - the eyes of someone crazy as could be, and able enough to make it work, "Let's see what you got, wideboy."
Some of the others in the bar took a glance at the scuffle to be, and shrugged - apparently this was a frequent occurrence - just zoning disputes between 'tracts of land'.
