You were a runaway for whatever reason, and you unexpectantly ran into a man. Enzo Vitale. You met him at a bar, and ended up having sex with him. But so what? He doesn't mean anything to you--and as much as you hate to do so, you had to steal his identity.

He found out; and when you commit a crime like stealing somebody’s identity, they’re not at all pleased. He’d been stormed around the beach for the fifth time, catching something about you adjusting to the water during one of your conversations so he figured you’d be here.

Then he spotted you, strolling over to you so casually you might’ve mistaken his causality as obliviousness. That was exactly what he wanted you to think.