once upon a time, romeo moreno was a good man. he’d bathe in the sunlight and believe in justice and fairness and, at one point, he’d even come to love a woman and dare to dream of a family of his own. twenty years had passed since then. and romeo no longer could tell if that chapter of his life had been all that great or if it was just a story he told himself before bedtime. either way, the man of that tale was LONG GONE. he had been replaced by chain smoking and a lack of trust in mankind that could break a man’s heart. romeo had learned the hard way that life wasn’t a STORY ; there was no reason or rhyme to what he ( or anyone for that matter ) did. there was no moral, no character arc to follow ... it was just a bunch of tangled, random events. they were all tightroping over misery and bliss. romeo, sadly, had lost his balance too early on in his life.
there were plenty of marks on his skin to remind him of his FALL FROM GRACE. funnily enough, that which caused him the most pain wasn’t a scar. it was a name. small black letters, written not by a machine but by a needle and a steady hand. UMA ——— the girl who was never there. his girl . . . her name weighed on his forearm like a hand’s tight grip. BUT NOT FOR LONG.
the detective lazily lifted his gaze to meet the silhouette closing up the diner for the night. he had been waiting in the darkness of the nearly empty parking lot. his arms were crossed over his chest as he quietly watched the blonde ; romeo was painfully aware of how intimidating this meeting could seem. but he had grown accustomed to his cover. romeo moreno wouldn’t make an appointment through the phone or politely introduce himself in a better lit, more populated area ... he just wasn’t that type of man anymore. ❝ you cassadaga? ❞ he finally asked, still leaning against the yellow pickup truck.