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Rome is always pulsing with life at the apex of midnight. Tiziano likes that. It is something that will always be present, some constant murmur for his thoughts whenever he is sent through the brick and stone of the city. He works best in crowds when the sun is at its highest, of course — but time is not always on their side, and he cannot always conduct confusion and deception as he would like to in front of an audience. Tonight, he must wait, and even then— they will only get to speak with one person. Hardly requires the necessity of Talking Head, who hides close against Tiziano's own tongue.
He is necessary to Passione beyond interrogation and isolating a target from a crowd. There are plenty of successful organizations across the world without Stand users, and firearms have always suited him. Still — Tiziano knows he is backup to the hunting skills of Secco, who sits (squats, really) on the single step of the closed patio they wait at. For approximately fourteen minutes, Tiziano has been trying to tell Secco to swim beneath the concrete for a third search of the perimeter.
Secco has been ignoring him since the seventh minute.
"Secco," Tiziano tries again. "Secco. We must cooperate, which requires listening to me when I speak with you. I hold no ill intentions towards you, and I can only ask that you not harbour the same towards me. There are expectations upon us tonight, and all five of us will be disciplined should we fail the Boss' order of revenge. Do you understand?"
Secco looks over his shoulder. He has a cellphone in his hands. Tiziano has always wondered how often Cioccolata purchases him new burner phones. Tiziano rarely has the need for cellular communication during missions- with Squalo, they operate in one another's presence. With Carne... well, Carne does not speak. There is no need to talk. Tiziano folds his arms and taps his sandal on the ground. Secco looks at his cellphone after a moment. "You are sss-sss-so talka-tive."
Tiziano doesn't know if he should be offended. "Pardon me."
Secco tugs Oasis down under his chin — which he usually does when he thinks someone doesn't understand him. Even if Tiziano doesn't mind the suit. "You, you, you talktalktalk, s-so much talking, ca-an't you just, just, get to the point? Get to the point..."
Usually, the unit is not split in such an uneven way. Elsewhere in Rome, Carne watches their other target, and Squalo sits with his favourite thermos, waiting for their opportunity to move. Cioccolata... Tiziano is unsure of where he is. It is very likely that he is at their forward operating base, waiting for which two will return to him with their targets to speak with. That leaves Tiziano with Secco, waiting for Alburo Farfalle (who had, days before, attempted an attack on Doppio's life, with his own accomplices) to arrive in an unmarked car in the alley that Tiziano can see from the empty restaurant patio they stake out at.
Tiziano steps from leaning on a dining table towards Secco - who holds the phone closer to himself, as if he expects it stolen away. He lowers himself to Secco's position, and stares at him sharply.
"We don't work together often," Tiziano remarks. Secco gives him one nod. "What's going to get you to report back to me once you swim off in Oasis?"
Secco looks away from him. Tiziano is briefly reminded of prolonged eye contact with dogs and how it encourages aggression and anxiety. "... You go-go-got somethin' to eat?"
Tiziano raises one thin eyebrow. "You are kidding me."
"M'hungry."
"Is this about the sugar thing?"
"They--! Do-don't judge, me, sh-sh-should try it," Secco insists, turning himself towards Tiziano. For all of the ridiculousness of their situation, Tiziano takes note of that. Good. He's at least responsive. "Nonono, don't- don't- don't judge me, or anything about me, got it?"
"I'm not." Tiziano lifts his head to sigh, but catches the all-night lit interior of a pastry shop. "... Have you ever had tiramisù?"
Secco shakes his head. Tiziano lowers his eyes back down, and smiles sweet and gentle, the way he likes to when he's trying to convince Cioccolata to listen to him.
"I'll get you some," he swears, even going so much as to reach for Secco's shoulders. He knows Secco will flinch, but he places a gloved hand over the back of his neck, gently stroking the hair through Oasis. "I'll get you a very good treat if you are a very good boy for me. Can you do that?"
The type of stare Secco gives him is a disarmed one. He blink-blink-blinks in a flutter of long lashes, as if the very idea of being spoiled by someone else was never something he considered. A promise glimmers in Secco's violet eyes, and he nods with his bulky teeth in a wide smile. "Yeah, yeah! Thought, thought this was gonna sssssuck, f-fff-from just, two of us— ma-make it two?"
Tiziano drags his hand from the other's hair to the underside of his chin, giving him a generous scratch. Secco responds well to it, squeezing his eyes shut and pushing his head farther back as if Tiziano did not already have the stretch of his throat to lavish. "I consider myself a generous person," he says sweetly.
In the distance, down in the heart of the Piazza di Spagna, Tiziano sees a figure fall to the ground. Its arms lift into the air before it crashes down, and what seems like a second figure crawls from nowhere on top of the other.
His pocket buzzes. Tiziano lifts his hand from his pocket and presses his cellphone to his ear. "Yes?"
"CAUGHT HIM," Secco says, through sounds of effort and a physical altercation, which Tiziano already knows is the restrained target. "C-Caught him! I've got, got, GOT him, do I buh-bring him? Bring him to, to, to-"
"Stay where you are," he replies, already taking the first step away from the shadow cast by the Trinità dei Monti by the moonlight. Folded in the satchel he brought waits two items: a handgun, and a stolen sweet.
It has been rather lonesome following Secco's path through Rome, waiting for the opportunity to show himself and chase Alburo to the square— so of course he makes his way down the steps with a burst of good mood.
"Stay where you are," he replies, already taking the first step away from the shadow cast by the Trinità dei Monti by the moonlight. Folded in the satchel he brought awaits two items: a handgun, and a stolen sweet.
It has been rather lonesome following Secco's path through Rome, waiting for the opportunity to show himself and chase Alburo to the square— so of course he makes his way down the steps with a burst of good mood. Tiziano feels his teeth gently click together as he descends the great steps leading to the large plaza wholly alone, listening for anything past his shoes meeting the ancient stone steps. The closer he draws from the height provided, the more he can see Secco holding their target against the stone, half-submerged in earth made possible by Oasis.
From up on high, he sees Secco pulled from the earth, mud sloughed off him like water, and his hand somewhere against his mark's face, digging his fingers into his cheek, mouth, and eye. It takes some time for him to see more than writhing figures, and only then are they the shapes of bodies; a suggestion of a struggle. When he meets the final step, he can see fear and understanding enveloping Alburo’s expression.
Secco holds a camcorder in his other hand, pointing at Alburo’s face. Tiziano remembers — right. This is Secco's other mission when separated from his other half.
Tiziano lowers himself to a squatting kneel when he closes the distance. Secco looks up at him lightning quick, staring at him even harder than the panicked man under him. Tiziano feels himself admire the strength of Secco's lean arms, holding a man twice their height in the earth the same was beasts claw through their prey.
Secco's pretty eyes cut through the night. "You gooooot it?" he asks.
"You are so impatient," Tiziano remarks, already tearing open the plastic wrapping of the tiramisú sleeve before Secco’s enthusiasm wanes. He pinches one of the treats between his gloved fingers, and holds it up. “Say 'ahh'."
Secco's mouth is a chasm of large teeth and saliva. Tiziano cups his chin with his other hand and presses the treat against his tongue, catching the scent of coffee powder on his fingers. He can feel Secco's throat against the tips of his fingers, feeling the motions his tongue makes while holding still.Secco closes his mouth too quickly, quick enough that Tiziano feels the moment of panic that he might just bite him. But he eats with pleasure, an indulgent smile while grinding another man’s face into stone and mud.
Tiziano doesn’t even give the whining man a glance. He pets Secco’s head, feeling the suggestion of hair under Oasis when he scratches his scalp "How sweet. I might just start spoiling you, myself."
He expects Secco to open his mouth for more, show him the remains of coffee and cream on his tongue and wait for more. Instead, he pushes the camera into Tiziano’s hands, who stares down at the recording screen. It is not yet adjusted to its new angle, and blurs as it tries to account for the dark stone under them.
"Y—You can film for us!" Secco enthuses, and folds the hand once holding the camera into a fist. 'Then, then, more."
Oh— right. The other thing.
Secco brings the fist down on to Alburo Farfalle, who screams. Tiziano rolls his shoulders, an effortless shrug and a gentle sigh, and leans back on his heels to get a better angle of the oncoming revenge. If it keeps him cooperative.