[center][IMG]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/350407984796401665/367858091804327936/Syn.png[/IMG][/center]
[Center][COLOR=plum][sup][b]Hollywoo Hopeful | Pyramid Scheme Artist | Black Panther[/b][/sup][/COLOR][/center][hr][INDENT][sup][COLOR=plum][b]TIME:[/b] [i]Present Day - Early Morning[/i] | [b]LOCATION:[/b] [i]Salty Dog Apartments[/i] | [b]INTERACTION:[/b] [@AngelofOctober][@knifeman][@Arty Fox][/COLOR][/sup][/INDENT]

[color=plum]“Ah shit…another day another dollar I guess”[/color] the deep inhale of smoke polluting his lungs. Truthfully, Leonard didn’t smoke much at all, almost never. Yet, he found himself slipping more and more into the embrace of the sickly intoxicating embrace of nicotine and the additives that would probably kill him before anything else did, but in Hollywoo you never know. The lavish life styles and the glitz and glam was all just propagated propaganda to peddle to audiences who wanted to risk it all only to crash and burn and live like the rest of the fools who joined them. One of those fools was smoking his life away one pack at a time. The flame bit the orange filter signaling the fleeting life of the cigarette, with a simple flick of his fingers the butt of the cigarette was gone, hopefully not ready to set a fire. The ticking sounds of his watch struck the turn of the hour. The buzzing alarm signaling him to get home before he was late and become a victim to the ever grueling traffic that LA was famous for. 

Crushing the pack of lucky strikes, vintage I know, Leonard got into his dilapidated piece of shit of a car. The make and model was almost as old as his parents, god if he didn’t miss them every day. Leonard was an old mind and was quite slow on the uptake that was the virtual world of the 21st century. Wasn’t he a drug kingpin when he got out of the orphanage? Yes that was true, but he also had a congregation that followed him and networked for him. No, Leonard was stuck with his crappy flip phone. It was actually more like a burner phone you see in the movies people use when they’re on the run, except he wasn’t running from anyone besides himself. His fingers worked in overtime to send a simple text to his group of brainless zombies that ate his self-help pyramid scheme up. Let’s just say the Lamborghini parked next to his beater car was just a rental from one of those imported car stores, he was friendly with the owner so he let him keep it there for free whenever he had work. 

Revving the motor and popping one of the few CD’s he brought with him, he hit [url= https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6cZamcMSJrg]play[/url] and raced down the strip on his way back to the Salty Dog Apartments. At least there no one judged him or gave him shit…it was somewhere he could be himself and remember the ambitions of rising to the top in the real estate world like that stupid Gazelle did so flawlessly. Parking his car and admiring the run down excuse for an apartment complex he shook his head and made his way through the front doors. Usually it was rather empty, but it seemed there was a party this morning in the main lobby. The faces were unfamiliar and much less likely the chance of him knowing their names. Every fiber of his being yelled at him to simply ignore them and continue up to his shanty humble abode, so why is it he decided to walk up to the group of passerbyers and engage with them.[color=plum] “Anyone else having a [i]splendid [/i] day this morning?”[/color] the sarcasm stung the air with his ferocious bite. 
[color=plum]---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/color]