This car was too small. It could have been a stretch limousine and would have been too small.

Tahir would have been only satisfied once Robert was so far away he couldn't hear him whimpering and crying anymore, moaning because of his fucking ear. Couldn't he just pass out because of the blood loss? Then he'd probably lean his head onto Tahir's shoulder – more like he'd simply fall to the side – but the Londoner could live with that. Other than with the awful sound of Robert gnashing his teeth.

"Could you stop that?" he hissed at him and the blond glared back:

"Stop what."

"Your complaints. You're not five years old, be a tad more decent about your hurt."

Barbarian idiot ran through the Pakistani-Brit's head when the other came closer:

"My hurt is not a fucking scraped knee, you wanker."

They stared each other in the eye, rage in the blue and endless annoyance in the green ones:

"But you act like it is one, you crybaby" he snarled. "What's next, do I have to kiss it better?"

"How about I beat you up and shoot your ear off, then we'll see how much of an emotionless bitch you can be when it hurts like hell" Robert growled back, so close both of their foreheads touched.

"Rashid, Bailey" their boss called from the front passenger seat.

"You are both being bloody insufferable brats."

"Apologies, Sir" they answered in sync, sitting up straight again.

And instead of complaining about the sounds from the man beside him, Tahir just dug his nails into the seat. The blond's thigh would have surely given him more satisfaction than the leather of the car's inside.

This day had been worse than it was planned anyways; when Robert had called him earlier and said there would be a problem he didn't thought of a problem like the one awaiting him when he arrived at the abandoned building they had left just a few hours ago.

They hadn't noticed the cars at first but Tahir had spotted them later, a few metres away, parked on another field way below them.

"That's how they got here" he muttered under his breath upon finding them and had turned back to what was in front of them.

"Great" he had heard Arthur hiss and had looked at his boss.

He had looked vastly pissed off, but not angry yet. Good.

One of the Sicilians having stood in front of the building had actually pulled the same face, the other two only having 'distrust' and 'contempt' written in them.

They had known who they are and whenever somebody knew Tahir before he knew them, he was kind of proud. And even if it was just his 'role' they hated, the Pakistani-Brit still had been the better 'actor' to get it. Those Sicilians were 'extras' in the morbid play 'Organised Crime' while he grabbed one of the 'chief parts'. Small moments of superiority like this one were ridiculous and totally unnecessary, but priceless and Tahir always enjoyed them.

"Who of you is in charge of all this and speaks proper English?" he had asked them and the Sicilians had started to discuss, the two Englishman only having caught muttered words in Italian.

One of them had disappeared inside, the one with the annoyed face, the other two had stayed and had continued to throw glares at them.

"I can't believe it" Arthur had muttered beside him and Tahir had turned to his Boss.

"I can't believe that these idiots manage something for once. Vento's Puppies and O'Connels gits, they actually get something done."

He had looked at the Pakistani-Brit: "Remember me to congratulate them before we let them meet a sticky end as well."

"Of course, Sir" Tahir had hummed. "I think Bailey is flirting with the idea to kill that obnoxious redhead Higgins for quite a while, Sir."

"Good, he maybe will have the opportunity to do so, given that he will come out of this bloody house alive."

And survive your rage when it is all his fault the other had added in his thoughts when somebody stepped outside.

The man had black hair tied to a ponytail and couldn't be older than Tahir, maybe 28, 31.

"I think you could say I'm in charge of this little mission here" he had grinned, having made the Londoner cringe internally. Although this one had seemed rather unimpressed and friendly, therefore couldn't be the most loyal one, he had known the next minutes wouldn't be pleasing. He had to deal with people like this on a daily basis but didn't like self-possessed jackasses when he was dependent on them or they had the upper hand for the time being.

"Good evening, I think you got something that belongs to us" he had started and the Sicilian had rubbed his chin:

"Hmm … As far as I am concerned you got something that belongs to us."

The Pakistani-Brit easily prevented himself from rolling his eyes, his eyebrows twitching slightly nonetheless: "I assume you are talking about Michele Vento's corpse."

He chuckled slightly: "We know he's alive."

Now Tahir breathed in, shallow and shortly, before having carried on: "There are nothing but lying bastards in our business, and we only want our staff and everything that is ours in this place, back. Enough of the hollow talk – Or do you fear the consequences of cheating on a dead man?"

"Do I want to rely on the words of another 'lying bastard'?"

Tahir had tilted his head to the side, now it had been coming in very handy that he was 10 centimetres taller than the man.

"I think we should change to another language."

The Sicilian had bit on the inside of his cheek and had looked to the ground before having breathed out a small "heh" and had grinned again, whispering:

"You don't have enough."

The Londoner had glanced at the three others in the background.

They had stared, the one with the formerly annoyed face had turned away, while the other two only had glared more intense.

He had leant in a tad closer, having whispered as well: "Do you know how much One million British Pounds are? Certainly no chump change."

"How much is that in Euro?"

"Over one million, believe me or not." Having been said with a blank face and tone, the phrase had an entirely different ring to it. One that made it sound much less like you had a choice.

The other had laughed and Tahir had felt the immediate need to wash his ears:

"Because you took it with you as Just in case money, sure."

"We are professionals unlike you Sicilian scumbags," Arthur had joined the conversation, having stepped the volume up a notch. He hadn't been necessarily louder, but his voice a lot steadier and thicker than the easy going tone of the Sicilian and the Pakistani-Brit's furtive talk.

"We have it in the car, we're going to show it to you and you will seal the deal with us."

Now the grin had disappeared from the man's face: "Will I?"

"Choose wisely" Tahir had said with the ghost of a smirk. "Do you want to be loyal to a dead man or loyal to yourself?"

"And if you want to use the point that he isn't even dead, he is. We know it better than you and what would you get if Vento would come back, anyways? Nothing. You would have to work your ass of for years to make the amount of money we are about to give you, being such a small-timer in this company. And Vento won't come back and the second you will finally realize that, you know you're fucked and dead by the next sunrise."

"You talk about that as if you'd know me" the other man said and Tahir almost rolled his eyes, thinking Everyone who heard your nasty laughter knows what kind of man you are.

Arthur's stare had turned into a scowl now: "I know that you are the first wanker who I have to convince of taking a ridiculous amount of money and I tell you that I will recognise your face once this is all over and then, god have mercy on you, you better have some starting capital to hide your sorry arse somewhere far away from Europe."

It had taken the Sicilian only one second to reply: "Show me that you really got the cash and I'll let your guys go."

"And we want the cars back too, we know you found them or if you didn't, you sure as hell won't call dips on them now" Tahir had hissed quietly and annoyed when he left to their car.

"Sir, is everything alright? If I am allowed to ask" Varsani had asked him, when he opened the door.

"As far as I am concerned, nothing's alright" the Pakistani-Brit had admitted under his breath, having caught a mumbled "Told you" from Miah sitting on the backseat.

"But if you are referring to this one particular situation right now" he had smiled at her before having glared at him: "Then everything is alright."

"Of course, Sir" the young man apologised. "Are you looking for something?"

He had opened the glove compartment and had shoved a few couriers aside, having pulled out a little black box where one usually kept jewellery.

"Do we … do we really need to use this? Sir?" Varsani had asked while Tahir was counting the notes, droning out numbers almost silently.

"Apparently" Miah had sighed and had leaned forward. "But this was our back up, it's not like we didn't expect it."

"Right, but I think all of us would have preferred if this situation would have played out much less troublesome" Tahir had said, having put the money in his suit pocket and having got out of the car.

Once he had been a few steps closer he had noticed that the three other Sicilians had been gone.

"Where is the rest?" he had said, inconspicuously having glanced at his boss, who still had looked like Tahir had left him – eventually inwardly boiling with rage while just looking very grumpy on the outside.

"Inside, talked to them" the Sicilian had replied. "They're telling the others now."

"Telling them what?" the Pakistani-Brit had asked and had gotten the wad out of his pocket, holding it close to his side.

"That the tables have turned" he had answered choppily, eyes on the money. "Now I only need that and your guys are free."

Tahir had held the notes close to his face, having acted like he had examined them: "The tide has turned indeed … I am not too sure if you are not lying to us …"

"Rashid, I hate to say it but it's not the right time for games now" Arthur chimed in and the Pakistani-Brit had restrained himself from sighing: "Of course, Sir."

With a "No need to count" he handed it over to the Sicilian, who turned it around a few times, probably never having seen British currency before.

He had started counting and the Londoner had paid another glance to the blond, seeing how he had been kneading the fingers of his right hand behind his back.

"Alright, I'm gonna take care of the rest" the Sicilian had grinned, having looked at them in surprise when a "I'm going to come with you, Mister" had come back from Tahir.

"You don't trust me?" the man had snarled displeased.

"Of course we do not, bloody hell" Arthur replied, same tone as the other but again way more steady. "But you got the money, you are on the safe side now, aren't you?"

They just looked at each other for some seconds, the Sicilians eyes wandering back and forth between the two Englishmen, bevor he turned around with a "Tsk!", gesturing with his hand to follow him.

"Turning his back on us, how unprofessional" Tahir had muttered when the other had spoken up once more:

"Don't know if I should have mentioned it, but that big blond guy of yours got his ear shot off."

"Sir, Mister Bailey just passed out" Arthur heard from Miah right after a disappointed sigh from Rashid. When he quickly looked over his shoulder, Bailey's head was lying onto the other's shoulder, who also had one hand on the blond's stomach, making sure he wouldn't fall over.

"It's alright, Sir" the Pakistani-Brit reassured him and Arthur turned to the woman behind the wheel: "I think we should hurry up a bit."

"No kidding, boss" she said, immediately adding "Apologies Sir, I am just a bit nervous right now."

"No kidding" Arthur mumbled and Varsani bit her lower lip.

"Sir, the others just arrived at the harbour" the young Bangladeshi-Brit reported from the backseat. "Door and box broken open, O'Connel and Vento gone without a trace, Lewis and King found with hands tied up, Lewis supposedly sustained a mild concussion."

"Tell them to come to the same hospital as we are going" the Londoner instructed, Miah replied "Yes Sir" before doing so and Arthur crossed his arms, leaning back.

Saying that things didn't go according to plan was an underestimation, saying that he was disgruntled with how it all turned out was an underestimation.

He truly regretted that he didn't strangle the ginger a few hours ago, he inwardly cursed himself for the stupid idea with the box. He wanted to let them go out with a bang but he realised now that it would have been way better if it had been the bang of a gun.

With a sneer he made a note to himself that it still wasn't too late for this.

He didn't understand a word but seemingly the cab driver, who had been warned by Charlie that the cab might get dirty due to the fact that his friend fell into the harbour, was still complaining about it. Or his best friend pouted and rolled his eyes to the high heavens for other reasons.

"So, Frecky-" he started after another half assed reply for the driver and Harry groaned, very quietly though, while he still looked out of the window:

"Bugger off, Charles."

"Using my name is rude."

"So is this bloody nickname and your face" he replied before looking at the other in the front passenger seat: "What's it?"

"Well, I have quite a few things I could talk about with you, such as" he turned around a bit and Harry leant in when Charlie whispered "that either the cab driver will kill us or I will kill him in the next minutes, jeez" before he put his hand, used as sound protection, down and stopped the whispering "Or how I shot off Robert's ear-"

"You did WHAT?"

"- but clearly the most important question-"

"Why didn't you tell me you shot off his ear?!" Harry cut him off and Charlie sighed theatrical: "Frecky, I know that this is just plain awesome and so am I, but autographs and high fives later-"

"Nonono, high five now" the other demanded, getting his other hand from under the suit jacket on his lap and Charlie fulfilled his request.

"Okay, but the question that really needs to be asked and irks all of us" he carried on: "Oh my GOD Frecky, you kissed him, yo Vento, how did his lips taste, tell me, how was your first gay experience with this Disney Prince" he said, clinging to the side of the seat with his hands, eyes sparkling with curiosity and joy, while Harry only moaned annoyed:

"Charlie, please!"

"Please what? Please it was so good I can't describe it? Please he actually isn't that good?" he asked a bit disappointed.

"Please get out of the car and run over by a truck" Harry answered with a scowl and Charlie groaned:

"Frecky, don't be such a bitch about it!"

"I am not being a bitch about it!"

"Yes you are!"

"It's you who is asking me all this fucking stuff!"

"Fine, you want a simple question instead?!" Charlie gave back. "Why did you kiss him?"

It got quiet in the cab – except for the upset mumbling of the driver and Harry exhaled heavily, eyes on the ground before running a hand through his hair and turning to the window again: "I … I don't know. I really didn't think at all in that moment."

"So, naturally, your first intuitive reaction is to kiss him back" Charlie grinned, wide at first before it faded to a dreamily one: "Oh Harry …"

"Don't give me that look, it was just … a stupid, brainless reaction. Caused by all the stress, I almost drowned, give me a goddamn rest" he more or less droned out the last words, leaning back.

Charlie started humming something and it took Harry around half a minute to figure out, what this familiar sounding song was.

"Oh shut the fuck up, Charlie!" he yelled and threw his jacket at him while the other just sang with great fervour:

"You keep on denying who you are and how you're feeling! Baby we're not buying, hon we saw you hit the ceiling!"

This was only interrupted by the cab driver who went ballistic and threatened to just throw them out, how Charlie later told the others.

Once it was quiet in the cab and this time for real, Charlie closed his eyes and hummed again: "At least out loud I won't say I'm in love … "

"Just shut it, goddammit."

"Frecky please, give me good explanation for the kiss and I will shut it."

"I don't have one, okay? I – don't – have – one."

"Well, I am sorry to break it to you" Paddy said slowly and with a faint smile, his voice deep and tired, "but that does really sound suspicious. Like that you at least got something for him. I mean, if you usually kiss somebody and don't know why, you can blame it on alcohol. Maybe we can blame it on the adrenaline, but you don't really make it sound like some panic reaction."

A drawn out, victorious yet weary "Ohhhhh" came from the front seat while Harry only looked at the man beside him who still smiled and shrugged once he noticed the his stare:

"Just my share of life experience."

"Even the old man says that you're so deep in the closet that you not only found Narnia but John Watson, accept your fate and embrace your big fat gay man crush on Vento."

"Dear lord, please, I just want to go to bed, stop it" Harry whispered, leaning onto the window.

"Okay, but what actually happened in the box, if I am allowed to ask?" Charlie started again nonetheless and the other just pretended to be asleep.

I should just say that I maybe fell in love with you…

"Frecky, you're not sleeping I know it! Old man, poke him!"

"Let him get a rest, Jesus. He had a hard day, we all had to be honest."

"Things happened in the box" Harry answered, rubbing his forehead: "Things, okay? Nothing important."

"Actually, while talking about important things" Paddy chipped in: "What's with our deal with Vento?"

"Oh, they probably made one and sealed it with a kiss" Charlie giggled and Paddy only buzzed something under his breath.

Fell in love with you…

"We can discuss all of this tomorrow after I got a rest … But won't you actually tell me what happened during the last hours?"

"Oh, not much – Ah, Soph called!"

Harrys eyes jerked wide open: "Why didn't you told me?!" For a second he looked for his phone, remembering that the English most likely took it.

"I'm sorry, I forgot about it! Do you want to call her?"

"Of course I want to call her, give me your damn phone!"

Charlie held it out: "But the battery is low, so it-"

At this point Harry had ripped it out of his hands already, hastily pressing the home button a few times, which made the screen turn on and off again before he could do anything and Harry only more nervous.

"Frecky, Frecky, calm down, I need to unlock it first anyways, you're only draining the battery more" Charlie tried to set him on ease, holding out the hand but the other slammed it in his hands so erratically that it fell to the ground and Charlie had to spit a few more words in Italian when the driver started to bawl him out again while he got the phone from the ground.

After he unlocked the screen he also opened the contacts before he gave it back to Harry: "There you go."

The other stuttered out words under his breath, probably a "Thank you" while he looked for Sophie's number and Paddy had to smile at this, having one of these moments where he remembered.

I haven't called the kids in a day, good grief Patrick, I am a horrible dad aren't I, haha? Please pick up Harry …

"The user you want to reach is temporarily unavailable" the mechanic sounding voice replied instead of his sister and there was a little sting in his heart.

He hung up and dialled again but he still received no different answer.

Just when he hung up again and wanted to try it for a third time, Paddy put a hand on his head and ruffled through the ginger hair: "She went to sleep, mate. It's pretty late, I bet she is sleeping safe and sound and doesn't hear the phone." He still smiled: "Try it again tomorrow, will you?"

Harry looked at him, worry in his eyes, worry and disappointment like child who got told that it can't have that toy because they don't have enough money.

That was a look he had never seen on his father's face and it only painfully reminded the older man how much these boys needed him as a guardian and not only a friend.

He shuffled closer to him, head bumping against the car roof, and put an arm around Harry, pulling him close: "Don't make such a face, the lil sunshine is alright and you can talk to her tomorrow. You can have a long talk when both of you are well-rested and fit, hm?"

He rubbed his arm and Harry only nodded, muttering a "Yeah, you're right old man" before leaning forwards: "Charlie, your phone."

But Charlie wasn't answering and he discovered that his best friend had fallen asleep.

He had been tired all the time but now he saw the other the like that he felt overwhelmed by it, only leant back to close his eyes, being gone in a few seconds.

As the two slept like this, the old man didn't feel as tired as before. The picture had something soothing but also kept him awake out of habit.

Can you pick the boys up from the train station, Paddy? I know it's late but therefore I can't leave Soph alone here. It's not like they're going to make trouble, they just came back from a school trip, they most likely will sleep in the car – If they didn't slumber away their station already.

Paddy sometimes couldn't believe Aaron had been dead for 4 years by now. His voice still sounded so clear in his head.

When Michele got into the car, he could have fallen asleep within seconds, his anger for the English, the stress, even the excitement over being able to make it out of their death trap, all had been buried under a blanket of fatigue.

But another thing still kept him awake, made him downright jittery on the inside.

"Won't one of you come and sit with me back here?" he said and patted beside him on the backseat, when the twins both got in in the front.

The two exchanged a look and giggled, Lorenzo on the passenger seat got out and then got in the back of the car, Michele ran his hand through the others hair before he pulled him into a hug:

"I cannot say how lucky I am to have two such precious little brothers!"

Marco started the car and the next seconds were silent except for the usual sounds of driving.

"I'm still soaked as hell" Michele voiced his awkward realisation and Lorenzo laughed, hugging back now: "No problem!"

He pressed is head against Michele's chest and the other wrapped his arms around him tighter, all three of them laughing, so hard that it faded at some point only that another noise could fill the car.

And yet, at one point it got quiet again in the car again except for the muffled sounds from outside and the heavy breathing of the Sicilians, notably the two in the backseat.

"We're so glad you're back sound" the younger one muttered into Michele's chest.

"We were so afraid something happened to you" his brother whispered.

Michele chuckled weary and ran his fingers through Lorenzo's curly hair again:

"Well, it's not like I was on a little fun trip the last hours" he responded and the two groaned, drawing a laugh from him. "No, your big brother is of course just as happy to see you again."

He let go of Lorenzo who sat up straight again: "But how do you found out where we were?"

"Well, we found the 'hideaway' of the English –" Marco started with a confident smile but it froze just like the one of his brother and Michele cocked an eyebrow.

"Lorenzo?"

"I'm onto it brother."

"Good."

While Lorenzo got his phone out, Marco carried on a bit bashful: "Well we found the hideaway and with a little effort we made one of them find out where their colleagues that were in charge of you were. And we also ca-"

"Caito isn't answering" Lorenzo interrupted him with a glare for his phone and Michele requited it with a done wheeze.

He was tired again, really tired now. He had been out of this box for not even half an hour and new trouble was awaiting him.

He suddenly grinned, a pretty sheepish one especially because he also blushed a bit.

Means it hasn't even been half an hours yet since I kissed Harry!

This thing would probably still keep him up when he was already lying in bed tonight. He had thought about a kiss since he first saw him, had especially imagined it since they first really met yesterday and the last hours together with the Irish had only made him more curious how it would be.

And it had been better than expected; it hadn't been the best kiss of Michele's life but the nicest in quite a while.

"You are telling me WHAT?!" Lorenzo bellowed at the phone, bringing the older one's attention back to the here and now.

"This is, why, why didn't you call us?! Who – oh for fuck's sake!" he continued when Michele tapped his shoulder:

"You might want to give me the phone."

After a short "Boss wanna speak you" and with a pissed-off but worried face he handed it over to Michele, who still got what the man at the other end of the call was talking:

"Your padrino is well enough to talk? Now I am kinda curious."

"Signore Mancuso, I am sorry that right now is too little time to satisfy your curiosity" he answered calm but brows furrowed. "You, however, could satisfy mine because I am not too sure if I understood that right. Their padrino?"

There was no other response but a heavy exhale at first, followed by a fast: "Signore Vento, how good to hear that you are alive! Well, the Signori Bontade", Michele scowled at them, the look was also equally questioning, "started to call you padrino from the very point I met them. Won't call you that again, Signore."

"I hope so. Now be so kind and explain what all the fuss is about. You are at this 'hideaway'?"

"Ah yes, we were taking care of the English here when apparently somebody, I guess this Kirkland, arrived. I was inside this building, all I got was that Caito who was left in charge by the Bontades, talked with them, told us then that the tides had turned because you were dead, such bullcrap. He made us release the english since they gave him money and he apparently was willing to share it with a few others; and half of the rest didn't want to argue against these piss poor traitors, accepting your death too easily."

"You seem like you have been one of them, Mancuso."

"I was against it but since dead men tell no tales I shut up before it even came that far, Vico and Idoni really wanted this cash." Michele believed to hear a "Fucking new kids" said under his breath. "That's practically it, we had to let them go, most of them left, me, Yanni, Wachardo and Laterza are still here."

Michele needed a few seconds to file Vico, Idoni and Laterza, they were apparently from of the bunch of new faces he had hired lately.

"Alright. You better go home now, or is there anything else you need to tell me?"

"No Signore. Except that we're relieved you are alive."

"Sweet talk but cannot say I don't like to hear it" Michele replied faintly smiling.

"And maybe one more thing, Signore."

"Sí?"

"I told you so with Caito, I fucking told you so – If I am allowed to say that, Signore."

Michele still smiled: "Yes, you were right with disliking him, Silvio, and yes I should have listened to you. Anything else?"

"No Signore."

"Alright. We meet up tomorrow in the office, you will also get the details in the morning, be sure to don't sleep in."

After a "Sure Signore Vento" he hung up and put the phone beside him, Lorenzo grabbing it while Michele crossed his arms.

"Padrino? As in Il Padrino? Are you serious?"

Lorenzo was scratching his head, Marco rubbed his neck, avoiding an answer.

"You are, I can't believe it" Michele said bugged and disappointed. "Since when?"

The twins exchanged a clueless look before their eyes wandered to the street and their big brother again:

"Dunno, since we were 15?" Lorenzo answered.

"Young and dumb at this time?" Marco added, counting on his brother to deliver his best puppy face.

Michele answered this indeed very-hard-to-resist expression on Lorenzo with only a pout before leaning back and looking out of the window.

He was tired to the bones, the situation more or less only annoyed him right now than making him angry and he rubbed over his temples with one hand.

As if he hadn't enough problems with the deal with –

"Oh my" he whispered with a smile, covering his mouth with one hand, chanting "Oh my" under his breath repeatedly and the twins cocked an eyebrow, wondering what was up with their big brother. They guessed what it was but hoped that they were wrong.

"I was right all along" he said, leaning against Lorenzo's shoulder: "There is something in this eyes. But no fire to burn myself with, just sunshine, warm, warm sunshine."

They were right. Sadly.

"Can you believe it?" Michele hummed and they wanted to respond with "We don't want to" yet kept quiet as he carried on: "Silly Michele fell in love with this Irish and silly Michele wants to kiss him again. Do you think we can link this all with business?"

"Too be honest I think you should really separate private from business, Michele" Marco responded hesitant.

"And maybe forget about the redhead in at least this way … ?" Lorenzo added meek.

"And you know what I think?" Michele gave back, his voice not resentful in the slightest. "I should invite him for Dinner tomorrow to get both of this done. The thing with Signore O'Connel and the thing with Harry."

He nodded and the twins scratched their heads again, synchronously sighing: "Well, if you think that's right, Michele … But!"

Michele cocked an eyebrow: "But? Is there some sort of condition?"

"Maybe" Marco said excitedly: "Although I wouldn't call it a condition as much as a … drawback."

"They, the Irish, talked about somebody today, somebody close to O'Connel, a girl we guess" Lorenzo carried on just as happily as his brother when Michele interrupted him with an amused smile:

"Let me guess, her name is Soph or something like this?"

"Exactly!" They exclaimed, the older one leaning back, still a satisfied expression on his face:

"She's his sister, not his girlfriend – if we can trust him. And I think he wouldn't lie about how she is connected to him, it wouldn't make a difference anyways. She really seems to be very important to him, you're right."

A fairly disappointed and calm "Oh" slipped from their lips, followed by a "His sister, aha … "

Nobody made a sound for a while, Lorenzo was close to falling asleep himself when the older one spoke up again: "And you know what?"

"What?"

Michele cuddled up closer to the other: "His lips were sooo soft. That's all, this is a very important information that I needed to share."

They giggled and he grinned, almost gone. When he finally dozed off, he dreamt of a river and a young man with freckles and red hair.