#perobscurxus

Fugo scuffed his feet against the floor, frowning at nothing in particular as he awaited Abbacchio to find him. Bruno had charged Fugo and Abbacchio with a very specific task--gathering information about some location, specifically for potential hiding places and scoping out the people--but Fugo wasn’t feeling particularly confident that it was going to turn out very well, mostly for himself.

She had her work at the bakery to thank for her heightened senses of observation, especially since that day last month a man had stolen a few cookies. Maybe a mild sense of curiosity also contributed to it, too.

Regardless, Raven seemed to be keeping her eyes peeled more and more lately. For one, she was on a trip to Italy, and being in a different place did typically require remaining aware. She wasn’t from here, and perhaps some of the locals could tell, especially those with poor intentions. It was the same way in Dublin; people could always tell foreigners apart from the rest, and those with ill intentions occasionally took advantage of them.

She’d stopped to a cafe for a quick snack, and she’d opted to sit outside. From her table, she’d quickly noted the rest of the people within her vicinity: a white-haired man who exuded a stern and cold air, as well as--another guy, dressed in a navy hoodie and trousers with holes. The second man kept casting unusual and scrutinizing gazes at the first. Every so often, he’d glance, and then turn back around, hunching over. 

It seemed suspicious to her.

It probably wasn’t the best thing to do--to get involved in something that was none of her business--but she didn’t want to stay silent. Raven approached the white-haired man, and to her relief, she’d gotten his attention.

--The activities of soldato that weren’t under his jurisdiction were usually things that Risotto didn’t pay attention to. He was far too busy with his own group, ensuring that they were in top form, were healthy--were happy, really. Other than his loyalty to his Boss, which was ever-waning with each passing day, his only allegiance was to his team, who bled and laughed and lived by his side.

And yet here he was, standing opposite to Buccellati’s... second-in-command, he assumed, considering the general age of the rest of Buccellati’s team. 

I’ll gladly burn everything.

“. . .”

❝ Hey, get back here! ❞ 

She chased after the punk that has the audacity to try and steal her wallet, her long locks bouncing and trailing behind her as she swiftly dodged the tourists and citizens of Italy. She was so close to the thief, just a tilt of her head and Love Deluxe will have her wallet. Turning the corner, she tilted her head, ready, aim--

BAM!!

@perobscurxus

☁ That sour expression was concerning at first, however its brief stay let on that Narancia had dodged the saltiest of Abbacchio’s mood. Though it was still a tad aggravating that his elder would hold off on answering until he was well and satisfied with his prior task.

Onwards the soldato tagged, tailing Leone faithfully into the kitchen and all to ecstatic to finally be presented with the key he’d procured. His fingertips barely brushed the metal when an unexpected offer was made, seemingly out of the blank. Narancia was left, blinking a bit dumbly at first, though a strangely humble look of appreciation soon took over.

--He hadn’t wanted this to happen, but how could-- no, he couldn’t, he couldn’t never and therefore wouldn’t ever stand against the might of Passione. That was why he could allow this to happen. His orders were to--eliminate Bruno’s team. And right now, he was standing in front of Abbacchio, the first of the team that he’d managed to corner.

Standing in front of Abbacchio, Fugo knew that Abbacchio would be able to see every facet of him. His nervousness, his fear, his conviction and his regret. How Fugo had already calculated every part of his plan, and now, it all just depended on if Fugo had the guts to turn on the one group of people who had accepted him no matter what he’d done. No matter what he (his Stand) was.