Slowly and respectfully, the black door opened, revealing Lucan. Lucan, being the family's go-to hitman, had a sort of close friendship with Alfonse. Both were men of violence and bloodshed who had built their legacy using war, and both had an addiction to death. Lucan's addiction was more under control, however.

"It's a nice night, comrade." Lucan said, blowing smoke out of his mouth. Quietly, he stepped over to the chair closest to Afonse's desk, and allowed himself to slouch into it. "Listen, my friend. There are some personal matters I must attend to, so I have come here to ask you if I can take tomorrow off. I need to...wipe off some old stains, if you catch my meaning." He said, lifting up one of his legs and resting it on the knee of the other. 

"Of course, If you happen to need me to do something tomorrow, I can attend to my personal matters at another time."