Luciano chuckled at the compliment, "It means light, which coincidentally matches me pretty well." He played with his hair a little. He listened contently to the strumming of the guitar.
when she started talking, he glanced over to her, and smiled. "I came here out of boredom and money. I thought it would be fun to go somewhere out of the country, but it seems like you americans are very timid people, which is the complete opposite of what is shown on tv. It's weird." He stood up, "and having my family so far away is a little unsettling, but I'll get used to it." He grinned.
"I learn quickly with most things, though with most my focus wears off, the one thing that has kept my attention, my passion, is sculp......" Luciano's eyes got wide and he glanced around the room, looking for his, probably broken, plane sculpture. He ran back over to the scattered pieces of drum set, throwing pieces behind him, completely ignoring the poor instrument. He stood up and walked over to the stacked chairs and looked under them. He then went over to the piano sitting over at the side of the room, got down on his knees, and looked under it. He reached under and grabbed his half smushed, and lightly dried out plane.