Chuuya kicked back the stand of his magenta-tinted motorcycle, stepping off onto the concrete ground below. He tossed the keys up, caught them in his hand, and then pocketed them into his coat. The young man adjusted his hat, and then began to head back to the Port Mafia's headquarters from where he had parked. Perhaps he would go for a drink somewhere...it wasn't like any of the bars owned by the Port Mafia cared he wasn't of the legal drinking age, anyway.