[Center][h3][color=silver]Arturs Danilov[/color][/h3] Location: Apartment 2A Interacting with: Claire & Tasha [@Lady Amalthea][/center] [I]Earlier that day.[/I] Arturs stepped out of the shower, it was colder stepping out of the shower he thought in a haze. He reached for the towel draped over the sink quicker than usual. Nearly slipping but catching his balance with the wall he sighed, then dried off. Dressing himself casual, blue jeans a black-shirt, he looked down and around for his phone as it began to ring. [b]Buzz. Buzz.[/b] Arturs had looked around the bathroom, which was by no means a big room, and he couldn’t see it. He was sure he had left it on top of the hoodie on the floor but it was nowhere to be seen. [b]Buzz. Buzz.[/b] [color=silver]“Come on.”[/color] He expressed before an idea hit him. [color=silver]“The shoes…”[/color] Arturs was muttering to himself, under his breath, as if it had been obvious this whole time. One of the runners proved to be empty, he picked up the second and turned it upside down over his palm and surely enough he found himself phone in hand, Arturs checked who was calling him. [center][b]Incoming Call[/b] [b]No Caller ID[/b][/center] Arturs knew who was calling him, his eyes rolled and then he looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. Sight falling on the phone again he slid his thumb from the right hand side to the middle of the bottom of the screen. [color=green]“You have that few pound for me then?”[/color] An Irish accent, confirming his suspicion. Arturs closed his eyes, tongue pushing cheek he rubbed at his chin with his free hand. [color=silver]“Yeah, but look, I’m not around for a few days…”[/color] Silence on the line, [color=silver]“But, uh, I’ll be around during the week. Sorry man, just weird timing."[/color] [color=green]“That’s no good man, that’s no good.”[/color] The Irish man replied , Arturs said nothing. [color=green]“That’s no good, ya hear me?”[/color] He asked, a slight raise in his voice both in tone and aggression. Arturs was about to reply but the caller cut in front, [color=green]“Arturs man, ya have ‘til six o’clock to have my money or I’m gon’a break your legs for ya, alright?”[/color] [color=silver]“Calem. What do you fucking want? I’m not around for a few days, it’s not the end of the world man.”[/color] [color=green]“Ya said that last week ya bollocks!”[/color] The line went dead, the Irish man had hung up after his last exclamation, sick of listening to Arturs. Arturs shook the phone little in his hand before slipping it into his pocket and finishing off getting ready, The truth is, he was a little short on the money he owed and that was the amount being talked about on the phone. Arturs cursed, leaving the bathroom, heading for the couch. He sat down and felt his body sink before he sat up to reach his ‘smoke box’ as he called it. Rolling papers, roach card, tobacco and of course the green in a zip lock plastic bag. He rolled up, taking his time and putting attention into making the joint, tapping the finished product off the coffee table before twisting the very paper left at the very tip and placed it and the bag in one of his jacket pockets. He threw it on, fixing the hoods on both as he left the apartment. As he paced down the stairs he took out his phone to text Claire and Tasha, to let them know that he would meet them up there and was leaving now. [center][b]TO: Claire, Tasha MESSAGE: Slight delay, will meet u guys up there.[/b] [hr] Location: En route to Anaheim Interacting with: [/center] There was always something about driving that grounded Arturs, it was probably that it gave him time to think, ponder over and formulate plans. He figured he’d make the money when he got back and just pay it up. After all, this was something that never or at worst very rarely happened to Arturs, he was always on time with the right amount. With Calem, usually the threat of violence was the way he went about things. Arturs knew the technique to his intimidation, your mister nice guy, whether you feign it or genuinely are a nice person, the buddy, chum, friend. It’s how quickly you turn from being that nice guy to roaring down their throats or threatening them with violence or worse is what gets them intimidated and then ninety percent will pay. The other ten percent, that’s usually were the threats of violence are executed. Arturs’ mind drifted to that time he was with Calem, a lad around his own age maybe a couple of years old, when he was exacting said threats of violence before but it wasn’t long before it slipped his mind. It had only been a couple of weeks since Arturs met his new roommates and others in the group for first time. Claire and Tasha inviting him to Disneyland was a nice gesture considering he didn’t know all too much about them or them him, but he had gotten along with everyone he’d met so far. It took a while to get out of the city but he was glad to be on the open road now, he was looking forward to getting away from the city for a bit and told himself he was going to enjoy the excursion. [b]Buzz. Buzz.[/b] Arturs’ phone was going off again, it had been frequently vibrating in between the two front seats since he left. Obviously Calem had something to say, and ringing this many times, Arturs was just expecting another earful and more stress. He chose to ignore it again, and realizing he had been sitting in silence this whole time and switched on the radio. Flicking through the stations until he found one playing all sorts of rock he rapped his knuckles off the steering wheel Driving for a while, a hitchhiker caught Arturs’ attention. The guy from a distance as he closed in, looked harmless. Scraggy hair and facial hair, tank top and shirt, jean shorts and runners, the large backpack by his side reminded Arturs of the time he went backpacking with a few of his mates back home, hitchhiking around the English countryside. Pulling onto the hard shoulder, Arturs lowered the window and nodded at the hitchhiker, just noticing his guitar case leaned against his backpack. [color=silver]“Where you going?”[/color] [color=cyan]“Hey fella’! Thanks for pulling over, Anaheim, think you can help?”[/color] There was a friendly air about him, seemed like he had been here a while to and Arturs was already heading to Anaheim, it’d be better than listening to himself think. [color=silver]“Fuck it, hop in.”[/color] He replied, a thin smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. The backpacker gave Arturs a thumbs up before opening the door putting his stuff on the back seats before getting in himself in the front. Arturs undid his seatbelt and leaned around his seat getting his jacket from the floor and placing it on the seat behind him along with the mans belongings. [color=cyan]“It’s a nice aroma.”[/color] The backpacker, whom Arturs had learnt was named Tomislav, teased about the smell of weed smoke in the car. Arturs looked at Tomislav briefly before putting his eyes back on the road? [color=silver]“You smoke?”[/color] He quizzed, guessing he already knew the answer, [color=silver]“Grab my jacket for me.”[/color] [color=cyan]“Of course”[/color] Tomislav replied. drawing out the words, a mock voice when asked about smoking. He took the jacket from the back and let Arturs rummage the joint from the pocket before putting it down in the back again. Arturs lowered the window on his side a bit and looked for a lighter, leaning over Tomislav he opened the glove compartment and took the lighter from there. It didn’t take long for Arturs to learn quite a bit about his passenger. Tomislav or Tomi as he preffered to be called was a Croatian man who had made a lot of money during boom years and lost it after the economic recession. He decided that he wanted to travel and see the world, but didn’t want to have to spend a lot of money (seeing as he had a lot less now). Backpacking was his answer and he had already traveled Europe and now was traveling the States, relying on Craigslist ads for places to stay or simply pitching his tent in a public park. His journey to the States alone was a cool story, he found his way over by offering to work on a trawler coming between somewhere in the middle-east and America. In return for working he had a place to stay on the ship as well as food and water. It turned out he had often worked or busked with his guitar to make ends meet and spend the rest of his time enjoying traveling, it was an incredible story which had Arturs feeling a little generous by the time they’d caught up to present day.