[center][h1][color=f26522]Milo Ventri[/color][/h1][/center]
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	Milo got out of his truck in front of the local butcher that he had found, Harold was a good man, kept his prices honest and never cheated you. As Milo entered the shop the old man looked at him and started to rant incoherently, the jibberish only giving way to a few words that could be stitched into a solid sentence. 

"Hey Milo, lookin'fer somen?" The Harold asked as he leaned on the counter.

[color=f26522]"Yeah, I need a rack and some pork butt."[/color] Milo set his hands on the counter and accidentally revealed his wound.

"Hoo boy, that don' look like it' wah much fun, you be pickin' nah roses gain?" Harold laughed at Milo who was looking at the man with a confused but happy look, he may not be able to understand everything that man was saying, but you could tell he was having a good time talking to you.

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	Milo set his purchases in the back of the truck, it was still pretty cold and it was making his hand a little numb, to be expected he guessed, so he sat in the driver seat and headed home, as he drove around he ended up getting turned around on a one way street, this city was no end of frustration still when it came to navigating, Milo swore that he would get it right within a week, and here he was, downtown, lost. It was nearly twenty minutes before he managed to get himself back on track and then back to his home, the sight was almost welcoming, he wished that it were a little less empty but he didn't really have all that many belongings, even his shop was a bit bare by most standards, it was a sentiment that he hoped wasn't a reflection of himself but he knew all to well that it was. 

	Milo shook the thought as he got his smoker running and loaded it up with all the meat and wood it needed, he had been planning on making some that he could put away for later anyway, and with his hand getting hurt he might as well do it today. The smell of Milo's smoker filled the shop, only not suffocating him because of his shops overhead fans, Milo had an old stand by seasoning blend that he loved to use still from Delta that he had brought a ton of with him when he moved up here. Milo sat in his shop, door sign was flipped to closed, and he had his feet on the table, with his bottle of liquor, Delta de-greaser, god the name was terrible but only half as bad as the alcohol, Milo took a sip and wondered why he felt so bad today, other than the cut his day had been fine, his life seemed to be improving, it had to be the reckoning coming for him, he could almost feel it.

	Milo took out his phone and scrolled through his messages and came across a message from Vika, a photo of her at the Gym, getting rehab, that girl had spunk, mostly what had drawn him to her, same thing that drew him to everyone he had been close to. Milo took out a small sword from under his table and unsheathed it, a Victorian style small sword, a semi ornate snowflake shaped half guard, and fine engraving along the blade, the handle still needed finished but the parts were all done. he set it down and started to work the handle, figured it wouldn't be to hard on his hands, even a little tipsy, he even tried to text Vika back.

[center][i][color=f26522]Hedyu fgVika, gflasd rtpo swwee yujou hsavijng fcunm, I hjsave a sdurpruise fdoryou[/color][/i][/center]

	Milo looked at the message, he could tell that from the garbled mess he just typed that he had no business texting or working on a sword, again, some lessons are just hard to learn. Milo went to delete the message and when he clicked the button, a pop up showed it as sent, Milo looked at it stunned, he looked at his bottle, then the phone again.

[color=f26522]"Why do I keep that stuff here?"[/color] 

He laughed and set the phone down, Vika will probably enjoy that message anyway, wasn't like he was drunk texting Ana, she never answered them anyway.

[@PrinceAlexus]