"What a fool you are to assume you'd escape Passione's attention," says Prosciutto to his captive audience as he finishes tying a knot. His stand -glorious in his multi-eyed horror- lurks nearby and surveys his work. It's such a pity that the mark can't see him. True, it's so much easier to dispatch normal people but he gets such a smug sense of satisfaction over the looks of horror on stand user's faces when they witness the shape of his soul.

The man groans around his gag. Whatever he's saying is unimportant. A wolf does not care what a rabbit might say.

"Passione has eyes everywhere. There are crimes that we do not tolerate. Oh, don't pout. If you didn't want me to kill you, then you simply wouldn't have done it. Really, this is all on you. You should count yourself lucky that you're meeting your fate by me. You see, my colleague Risotto rips people apart. Gelato loves his crowbar. Formaggio gets creative with physics. Me? I'm kinder by far than all of them."

This is a lie. Prosciutto would never count himself as kind. Fair, yes, but kind? No, not at all. He's too exacting to be kind.

The target tries to scream and Prosciutto scoffs. Why waste your last breaths on something so futile?

"Do stop that, won't you? This will all be over soon and...yes, what is it?"

The door opens and a small boy wearing a hoodie that's much too big for him -Prosciutto picks him out lovely outfits and the little gremlin still insists on stealing Risotto's clothes- peeks around the frame. Ghiaccio stares at him and does not speak at first. He often does this.

"Yes? Ghiaccio, I am committing a murder. Please use your words so that I may resume doing that."

The boy chews on his sleeve.

"I saw the police just now," he says at last, "outside of the window but they didn't stop and they didn't have their lights on. They went down the street. I don't think they're coming back."

"Thank you for telling me that," says Prosciutto. "You are a marvelous lookout. I shall only be a little while longer and then we will get lunch."

Ghiaccio does not leave. Instead, he continues staring at him, sleeve in his mouth all the while. It seems unsanitary.

"Do you have anything else for me?"

"You didn't squish my face," the boy says. "You always squish my face when you say I did something good, so why didn't you do that? You're supposed to. Are you not going to do that anymore? Am I in trouble? But I didn't do anything wrong! I'm really good at looking out of windows."

Just because Prosciutto sometimes pats people's faces when he's complimenting them -and by sometimes, this really means all the time because even though he disdains familiarity, he's still an incredibly tactile person- does not mean he must do it every time. Still, Ghiaccio's barely a teenager and he's prone to meltdowns without proper encouragement.

"You're fine. You aren't in trouble for anything. My job is to teach you our profession as best as I can given the limitations of your age. It's important that you learn professionalism. That isn't something professionals do in front of their targets."

Ghiaccio balls up his fists and says a curse word under his breath as if Prosciutto can't hear him, but he chooses to let this go by. The mark groans again, which is really getting annoying. Can't he just shut up?

"Fine. Can I help you kill him?"

Ghiaccio's an apprentice in their trade and he has a startling large body count for someone whose voice hasn't dropped yet, but Risotto and Gelato both want to shield him from death as much as possible until he's older, preferring him to instead work as a lookout or distraction. Prosciutto doesn't think it's doing him any favors because he may have to kill again sooner than later, but he doesn't make the rules.

"No. Risotto says that you mustn't until you're at least sixteen. I'll need you to be my lookout a little while longer. Don't make that face, you dreadful child. It's absolutely horrid when you make that face. Stop it. Stop it. If you stop it and then go do your job, I'll let you decide how I shall kill him. Do we have a deal, hm?"

Ghiaccio continues to chew on his sleeve.

"Okay, that's fine, I guess. I think you should kick him until he's dead."

His captive makes an awful noise and Prosciutto's really had enough of it, so he kicks him in the small of his back.

"Well, you heard the boy. I'm going to kick you until you die. Thank you kindly for your suggestion, Ghiaccio. I value your input. Now scamper, you imp."

Ghiaccio's suggestion is perfect. He's so proud of that boy.