Riunito
@homicidalvirus
He’s off to the bakery the next morning to thank Kiki again for her help and procure breakfast and an Espresso. He makes it a leisurely walk, talking the time to see where some of the small alleys in the poor district lead. It’s almost maze like, allowing for many areas where shady deals might be made. It was no wonder the mafia was active here. He shakes his head. A shame, he thinks.
It’s wandering down one of these little side streets that he spots a familiar shock of green. He shouldn’t be surprised, after all Abbacchio had told him Fugo was here but...he can’t help the way his ribs clench around his lungs.
The last time he had seen Fugo he had forced him to make the hardest of choices. And he’d been glad for his decision. He was grateful, really. But seeing him now. He wanted to reach out to the boy, say how proud his is, how much he missed him. He clenches his teeth. He knows he has to keep his emotions in check. After all he doesn’t know what time Fugo has come from, what experiences he’s had.
He makes a point to walk with purpose, heels clacking on stone.
“Buon giorno, Fugo,” He says his name like it’s fragile, soft and sweet. His tone says all the things he knows he can’t say aloud.
“I’m off to get some breakfast, would you like to join me?” He continues, as casual as he can manage.
