Luca sips his champagne, his black eyes surveying the wedding's guests and decorations. So far, he'd been able to avoid small talk, which he highly disliked. His best friend, Altair, had gotten married today. So of course, Altair invited his mafia-boss-best friend. Why not? People were seemingly suspicious of him. Not surprising. Who wouldn't be suspicious of a 6'7 Italian made of muscles and money? Altair's new bride, Azzurra, is chatting with her best friend across the ballroom. Altair stands next to Luca, rambling about business deals. Luca keeps his eyes on the people at the wedding, seemingly bored with the conversation. Out of nowhere, Altair says, "You should go talk to her." Luca freezes and arches a brow, lowering his champagne glass to look at Altair. "Talk to who?" he questions, a hint of an Italian accent resting on his tongue.