ABBACCHIO.

                         ——— RESPITE AND REPRIEVE WERE NOT A LUXURY THEY HAD ANYMORE. maybe before all of this had started, when they were both younger, leone abbacchio being in the career that he had dreamed of being in since he was a child, and bruno buccellati… well. there were times before this. ones that were less stressful. ones that were more idyllic. now, it’s just saddening to think about. a thought he presses back. a thought he’s broken out of as buccellati taps the table and mentions the taste of the food they were having.

    ❝ i can have them send it back. bring back food that isn’t shit.

❞ 

                      _{———A SMILE THAT RARELY OVERTAKES HIM, subtle in its curve but entirely fitting for the comment. he wondered for a moment how they’d both been cornered here, the flow of customers in and out of the restaurant beginning to slow in an almost unnoticeable manner. he lowered his fork, beginning to twist the pasta around the teeth until he formed a proper bite. they were in danger.}

        _{❝ i’m not picky, but if you could flag down our waiter… ❞}