waitress // lrh

16 // boxers

// luke //

Since Eleanor was still resting, and Burt was rather unnerved at the presence of Luke sulking silently at the front desk all day, he sent him home at lunch time. It was a Saturday, so he wouldn't have seen Catie, but he was still a little disappointed, for some reason.

Opening the door to the apartment building, he walked towards the stairs, glad that he had parked in the back. He didn't like walking right in front of the security cameras out front, especially because then the secretaries would know he was there. And he was not in the mood for their desperate flirting and pretending they left something on his floor just to have an awkward elevator ride up there.

So instead, Luke took the back stairs, where there was no camera, and no possible way they could know he was there.

The stairs weren't lit, and even though it was daytime, it was still creepy climbing up the rusty structure. They creaked randomly, even if he hadn't moved, and overall, gave off the feeling of dread and despair.

Trudging past the second floor, he wasn't really paying attention to what was around him. It was dark, and he was mainly focused on not tripping over the stairs with his rather large feet.

Which would explain how he bumped directly into someone's chest.

Staggering backwards at the impact, Luke chuckled uncomfortably. "Sorry, mate, wasn't really looking where I was going."

Luke was tall. Everyone who met him either told him how tall he was, or he noticed them glancing at his height. But to say the man he had just bumped into was tall was an understatement.

He was probably a good 6"7', around 270 pounds, with a nasty expression lingering on his face. Luke was tough, but this man was undeniably tougher. He was a brute. Extreme muscle mass, even under his shirt, showed, and his fists looked larger than Luke's entire head.

"Watch where you're going," he growled, about to walk past before stopping a foot behind him. Luke froze, his hand clutching the rail. If the man was going to hurt him, he did not want to be flying up the stairs just to be thrown down even more flights.

He felt a jab in his back that nearly pushed him onto his face.

"I know you,"

Luke turned around, trying to not show his fear.

"You owe me money. I paid for the drinks, and you drank way too much- on my credit card."

"You've got the wrong guy. I don't go out," Luke said, resisting his growing gut feeling to flee. Despite seemingly living in the same building, he had never seen this Godzilla man in his life.

He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. But I really feel that I don't."

Luke shrugged hesitantly. "I'm sorry, but isn't me."

"You can't weasel your way out of everything, Patchouli," he scoffed, and Luke barely had time to duck before a gorilla fist was aimed at his face.

He scrambled off of the stairs, feeling the man just miss grabbing his ankle as he started to run.

"You owe me!"

"My name isn't Patchouli!" Luke tried again, still racing to the top of the stairs.

He had no idea what floor he was on, all he knew is that he kept running, and the monster of a being was very close behind him. Air was whizzing past his ears, and his breathing grew heavier as he grew wearier. But whoever the other guy was, well, he seemed to be gaining energy just as Luke lost it.

And then they reached the last step, and all Luke saw was the door to the rooftop before him. He threw his weight against the heavy metal barrier, trying to slow down so he didn't skid and fall eight stories to his death.