Dirt caked the underside of his boots as they were trudged along the dank New York street. They were a worn pair of boots, the trace of would be holes littering the worn leather. They were the last item his nonno had given him just before he had been dragged into the boat forcing him to leave his beautiful home in southern Italy. Yes, Lovino Vargas was very far from home. Instead of being surrounded by the tantalizing smell of his brother's pasta and the warm kiss of sunlight, he was walking through a freezing dingy back ally, being choked by the smell of bootlegged liquor. Finally, he came to a stop in front of a tattered blanket. serving as a front door. He pulled it back, stepping cautiously into his make shift home, mud splattering inside. Lovino looked inside in disgust. This was not a home. Yet this was all he could afford. Shivering, he sat down on the damp ground, Amber eyes slowly starting to droop, his mind trying to escape. That was all that kept him going, his memories of home... What motivated him to keep looking for a job. His brother's innocent. naive face and sparking hazel eyes, smiling a up at Lovino as if he could do no wrong, his nonno's singing as he tended to the tomato garden. It was this that he though of, his driving force.

"Lovino!"

The owner of the name cracked open an eye in annoyance.

"Lovino, mon cher, where are you?"

It couldn't be...

"A-hah!"

A sharp wave or icy air hit Lovino as the blanket was swept aside by something blonde, ugly, and unmistakably, horribly French.

"Che maledetto idiota?"

The blonde Frenchman pouted.

"Come mon cher, we both know you speak English... And why are you still wearing that tacky hat?"

Lovino rolled his eyes as he adjusted his gray, faded cap and answered in accented, slightly broken English.

"Because my brother Feliciano gave it to me, stronzo. the hell do you want Francis?"

"I have a proposition for you!"

"For the last time, I am not going to dress up as a cabaret dancer bastardo!"

The Frenchman laughed at that comment, his voice making a strange "honhonhon" noise. Lovino was at wits end with this man. Sadly, this was Lovino's only friend...err, acquaintance in this hell hole, the only person that would speak to him.

"Non, non. I have a job offer for you,"

Francis' voice broke through his train of thought. Lovino's ears perked up at the suggestion.

" I just need you to answer one question."

"Si?"

Francis cleared his throat, a cheeky glint in his cerulean eyes.

"Do you have a problem with heights?"