The Vargas family was one of the most prominent and revered underground crime organizations in Italy, and definitely the biggest one in the southernmost part of the country. You could call it a mafia ―that would be pretty accurate –but they preferred to call it a family, since that's what they were, after all.
It was headed by a seemingly friendly man, Roma Vargas, who had practically built the entire underground empire out of nothing. He was a kind looking man with a bright smile that met his eyes. He seemed generally approachable, like someone's favorite grandfather, a man who gives to charities, one who sings in a church choir and outshines everyone else without meaning to; he did certainly look nice enough, which he was. He just wasn't so much of a good person. He was, after all, the leader of one of the biggest illegal organizations in the entire country of Italy.
With the wealth he made off of being a "bad guy," he had a sizeable mansion that was really much more like a palace. Ordinarily, such a monumental residence would look more than suspicious in a small town such as the one where Roma and his grandsons lived. Ordinarily. While, yes, much of the huge sum of money awarded to the Vargas family did come from money laundering, robbery, and other forms of illegal penny-pinching, the remainder of that money was legitimate. Being a skilled and revered Italian granddad came with its perks; Roma also owned an extremely successful restaurant chain, appropriately dubbed "Nonno's." It served Italian comfort food and was loved by everyone across the country.
Roma was an extremely successful man on multiple fronts, and many of his talents had been passed down to his grandsons. The younger, Feliciano, shared Roma's friendly nature and inviting demeanor. Unlike Roma, he never quite got as serious, but he did know how to handle business. He may seem like a bubbly, happy-go-lucky, average guy, but he was anything but average. He was good at using his aura of happiness to coax information out of people or convince them into working to his advantage. He was fun to be around but was as manipulative as the devil.
To the outside world, Feliciano was nothing but a young artist living under his wealthy grandpa's roof, but underneath his exterior he was a bit of a wildcard. His non-stop smile only makes it more terrifying when he holds the cold barrel of a gun to your forehead.
Then there was Lovino. Lovino was average. He wasn't anything special. His little brother had gotten all the good traits from their Grandpa. He was Roma's second in command but that was really only because he was older and more mature than Feliciano; he wasn't more skilled or more intelligent. He was just lucky in this particular instance. When it all came down to simple terms, Lovino was basically his Grandpa's little errand boy with a big title. Everyone else in the organization had to listen to and respect him, but he was just an anxious, self-loathing mess under a cool mask of indifference.
Which is naturally why he was going out to meet one of their guys (who had previously been doing some work farther up north gaining some information on a Russian drug trafficker) after downing one or three glasses of wine. His face was blank, unreadable, which was good, although it just made him feel like he stood out because everyone else on the street seemed so happy and polite while he felt like vomiting. He was supposed to meet this guy at a small café near the marketplace in the center of town. It was a rather busy (which made it risky) place to meet someone, especially in the middle of the day, but it worked to their advantage since they won't be two guys in a sketchy part of town exchanging information, which was the alternative.
The sun was hot and it beat down on Lovino, angering his anxiety even more. Luckily, he was good at hiding his nerves, so when people he had met before waved to him casually on the street he was able to wave back without collapsing to his knees. The air smelled like baking bread and fresh produce, which normally would have told someone that they were near a market, but Lovino's entire town smelled like that. It was quaint, really; the population was only a few thousand. It was really a bad place to house the headquarters of a huge organization, but Roma could be a tad sentimental at times. He didn't want to leave his hometown and honestly no one could blame him.
Lovino realized he really had no reason to rush and slowed his footsteps to a more leisurely pace. It actually helped to calm him down and allowed him more time to enjoy the day. After he was done with this exchange he should ask Feliciano if he wants to play football, he thought. It was such a lovely day. He was getting lost in nice thoughts about pretty girls and blue skies and picnic baskets and all the things everyone loved when someone caught his eye.
In a small town such as this one, everybody knows everybody. Outsiders stand out to average people, so you can only imagine how much a visitor would stick out to someone trained to know everything about everyone. Lovino's eyes narrowed as the marketplace came into sight. There was someone standing at a vegetable vendor that he hadn't seen before. He didn't stop or even turn his head to get a better look as he came closer, but he kept his eyes trained on them in his peripheral vision.
Dark brown curls, simple clothes, tan skin, nothing extraordinary for someone of a small town, except that he wasn't from the small town. Lovino had never seen this guy around before in his life. As he passed directly by the man, he turned his head a little and Lovino caught a glimpse of the greenest pair of eyes he had seen yet, and he had seen many, many people. He figured that this guy must be new because god knows a pair of eyes like those would've stuck in his mind. He had to remind himself of where he was going in order to keep himself from staring. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and walked quickly to the small café where he was supposed to meet his associate.
The door had a bell that rang as Lovino entered, and as soon as he did, he recognized a man taking a sip of coffee and sat down across from him without drawing attention. The man looked up at him and cracked a polite smile. "Good afternoon," he greeted casually, although his voice was overly quiet.
"Mm," Lovino nodded, crossing his legs. "Glad to see you made it back." He honestly couldn't have cared less about what happened to this guy (he didn't even remember his name) but he had to be cordial. A waiter came around once he noticed that Lovino had arrived and Lovino impatiently ordered a coffee as well.
Once the customary greetings were exchanged, the other man frowned slightly. Lovino sat up a bit straighter and furrowed his eyebrows; a frown was definitely not a good sign. "I don't actually have what you're looking for," he started.
"What the hell do you mean by that?" Lovino cut in, his voice low and gravely. The other man shifted uncomfortably.
"We do have what you're looking for ―I just don't have it. I'm a messenger," he explained. Lovino settled a bit as the man pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket, sliding it across the table to him. "Meet this guy at six o'clock this evening at the address on the card. He'll tell you. We didn't want to risk anything in such a public place."
Lovino hummed in agreement. "It was a poor choice to meet in such an open location," he muttered, slipping the card into his own pocket after glancing it over quickly. "I'll be there."
The man nodded. "Good. Now, excuse me. I'll be taking my leave." He stood up and quickly paid for his coffee before bolting out the door. It seemed like Lovino was going to be having a stereotypical, sketchy-looking, dimly-lit-alleyway meeting anyway.
The Italian stretched and took a sip of his coffee, watching the marketplace around him out the window. He was lost in his thoughts, wondering about what information the man was able to acquire, what he was going to have for dinner, who that new guy in the marketplace was. New people weren't a very common occurrence in a small town such as this one.
Regardless, he absentmindedly doodled on his napkin with a pen. He didn't really have anything to do until he was supposed to meet with that guy, so he figured he might as well stay at the café and enjoy his coffee and pretend like the idea of having to do even more business today didn't make him want to vomit. He sighed as the café bustled around him, blissfully unaware of his internal turmoil.