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"For you."
Leone blinked, looking at the drink the bartender had just handed him.
"I… didn't order this," he said.
"I know," she replied. She nodded her head back, gesturing behind her. " He did."
He followed her pointed thumb, peering over her shoulder, and his eyes met the gaze of a man sitting a seat across from him on the other side of the bar. The man gave a shy little wave.
"Oh," he said, and looked again at the drink. He wasn't usually a bar goer – wine was much more his preference – but the bar was giving out free drinks to first timers and he thought, hey, why not give it a try? Anything helps. He'd had two drinks before this, one of those generic brand beers you'd see commercials for. His opinions had not changed.
The drink before him was much more colorful than the yellowish brown of his own beer, but just as well not like the dark storm that was wine. It was a bright red, with what he assumed was fruit floating below and an orange slice on the rim. Definitely not something he'd drink on his own free will.
He glanced back up at the man, but he was gone. He'd lost his chance to say thank you, Leone mused, but he found it rude to the bartender to not at least try the drink. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. Like its appearance, the drink was fruity, but with the strong, tangy taste of tequila. It made him think of those postcards he used to see hung up around the station, with palm trees and sandy beaches and promises of a good time.
It was repulsive.
Leone put the glass down and jumped out of his skin at the voice beside him.
"You don't like it?" the man from across the bar asked, now seated at the stool beside him. He didn't look disappointed, his brows slightly raised and his lips curved in a vague smile.
"It's too sweet," Leone replied. He glanced at the drink, which glowed in the light.
"Ah, that's a shame. Would you prefer something different instead? They have plenty of good drinks here."
"It's fine." He reached into his pocket, dropping a few crumpled lire onto the table. The bartender was nice enough. "I was just about to leave."
The man's smile grew. "As was I. What a coincidence." A glare was shot his way, which the man either ignored or was ignorant of. He stood as Leone did, stepping in sync with him.
"Do you want something? Money ?" Leone snapped as they walked out the bar doors and the man did not separate from his side.
"You're Leone Abbacchio, aren't you?" the man said.
"Yes." He grunted, eyeing the man keeping his pace. After a pause, he added, "I’m not… working anymore. I can’t help you out."
"I know." He clasped his hands together, spinning around and standing in front of him. "I'm not here for trouble. I want to help you, Leone Abbacchio." He pointed both his index fingers at him.
Leone scowled. "I'm fine, thank you," he said, nudging past the man as he began his walk home. Footsteps followed him, and then the man was beside him again.
"Sorry, I never introduced myself. My name's Bruno Buccellati. You've likely never heard of me," he continued, dipping his head slightly as he talked.
"If you're trying to rob me," Leone huffed, "you're doing a shit job at it."
Bruno laughed, short and abrupt. Leone winced. "I'm not here to harm you, Leone Abbacchio. I want to help you."
"I heard ." He stopped, glancing around to take in his surroundings. He was a few centimeters taller than Bruno, accentuated by his boots, and probably much stronger, too. If he knocked him down and ran, he'd probably be able to lose him, and there was nobody around to possibly chase after him or come to Bruno’s aid.
But was that the right thing to do? All this man had done was annoy him. And know his name, but anyone in Napoli could learn that, if they read the paper a few months back. Regardless, it didn't warrant an attack.
"But I don't need help; leave me alone."
His harsh tone did not deter Bruno. He smiled, stepping behind Leone and appearing on his left.
"You haven't had a proper meal lately, have you?"
Leone turned his head in the opposite direction, gritting his teeth. When was the last time he'd eaten something proper? For the past month, at least, he'd been living off nothing but cheap café snacks and wine. The thought of sitting at a table and eating off a plate seemed almost fantastical now.
"Come with me. We can get something to eat." Bruno's hand rested lightly on Leone's arm. He flinched, pulling away almost immediately.
"Are you deaf?" he said. "I'm sick of repeating myself! I don't want your help. Get the hell away from me."
Leone, for extra emphasis, pushed Bruno back with one arm. The man stumbled, catching himself after a few steps. He watched Leone storm away, his arm falling limp to his side.