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[center][img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Wyatt%20Rothenberg&name=Sweetly%20Broken.ttf&size=100&style_color=FFF6F0[/img]

[b]Location:[/b] [i]Seraphim Tattoos, The Bronx[/i]
[b]Interacting With:[/b] [i]Jones, Tatiana Carrington[/i][/center]

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The seconds seemed to crawl by, with neither of them saying a word, and Wyatt was just about to bust out the witty one-liners when Tatiana broke the silence, by way of a compliment which was, admittedly, rather double-edged. Nonetheless, it was a compliment, and he was nothing if not gracious.

Evidently, she seemed quite relieved that he was not, in fact, a fedora-toting neckbeard dusted with crumbled Cheetos, nor a scrawny, four-eyed beanpole with a penchant for World of Warcraft and distasteful anime. It seemed as if they’d both expected the worst out of each other, which was completely understandable, given that a Craigslist ad had been their chosen medium of communication. He supposed this made a valuable life lesson for everyone out there; always set your expectations low, and you’ll never be disappointed.

“Yeah, well - you sure showed him. I thought he was gonna fucking explode.” Wyatt snorted, shaking his head as he remembered how the biker’s face had went red with pure, unadulterated fury. “Good thing your guy here tossed him out.”

But before he could get in a word edgewise, Tatiana had turned to Jones, and from what he gathered, began a rather heated discourse regarding a meeting with her parents. Through it all, there was nothing Wyatt could do but look confused, and perhaps even mildly concerned. Shit, was Tatiana’s parents the mafia? No wonder she was rich. But then, he had to wonder; was [i]he[/i] getting involved in the mafia? What if they made him a drug mule? Filled his insides with little baggies of cocaine and meth to smuggle across the border?

...[i]Oh my God[/i], it all made sense now. How could he have been so blind? This was like Breaking Bad all over again.

Before he had a chance to react, however, Jones offered him his hand to shake, and as if on instinct, he shook back twice, even if he had no idea what the guy was talking about. And the mockingly sympathetic comment he made? It didn’t make him feel any better about the whole affair. Not in the slightest. By this point, he was pretty much convinced that he was completely, and utterly fucked.

“[i]Please[/i] tell me you’re not mafia.” Wyatt said to Tatiana, in what he hoped was a dry, joking monotone. The last thing he needed was a hitman on his trail, looking to take him out for knowing too much.