Seven shots down and the smell of sweat and perfume still isn't getting better for Luke. The man still didn't care though, placing bet after bet, and going all in in a game of poker. Through the midst of people on the dance floor, and the stifling scent of pheromones, there he sat - the man notorious for betraying the mafia: Luke Armani. In the flesh.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he saw one of his table mates lose yet another round of black jack, holding back a smirk. Amateurs.. he thought, taking a look around after lighting a cigarette, hoping it would block out the scent of all the omegas who walked around in small packs, sending waves of pheromones at a time.

"Damn it.." One of Luke's friends, Cyrus, had said. Luke turned back to face him, smirking this time. "What?" He had asked. Cyrus only shook his head, collecting the chips on the table. "I'm about ready to go get myself an Omega companion. You want one?" Cyrus mused, looking up at the other as he stuffed the game chips into his pocket. Luke shook his head, letting out a breath of smoke. "I don't mindlessly chase omegas. But go ahead and get one."

After Cyrus had left, Luke was left to his lonesome at the bar, until his eyes caught something. An Omega boy across the table seemed to be struggling, a couple of Betas behind him clearly trying to hit on the vulnerable boy. Luke didn't usually care about the omegas who came to bars, but he could not keep his eyes off of this one.

In a moment, he was on his feet, towering over everyone he walked passed as he got closer to where the omega was, leaning back against the counter. "I was hoping that this could be a peaceful night, it's your choice if it's not." He started, glaring at the Betas. "I'll ask you only once to go. If you don't, I'll make sure that you're never able to see again." And with that, the Betas turned and walked away due to dominance hierarchy.