AN: Title is lines from A Knife Behind Me by Tadasha Tripathy. Condimento Insalata literally means (more or less) salad dressing in Italian because that is essentially his purpose in this fic and I didn't feel like I finding an actual name for the guy. René is my pre-curse name for Reborn.

TW for Threatened torture

KHRrarepairweek 2021: Bar/Restaurant AU Secret/hidden Skillsets

René grips Condimento Insalata by his lapels and slams him against the wall. Annoyingly, the man merely sneers at him, which René has to give him some credit for. Not everyone can stay this arrogantly put together when faced with the World's Greatest Hitman and being held with their feet off the floor. Still… would it kill him to simply give René the information he needs?

"Signore," René says with a grin and widening his stance to better hold Insalata against the wall for however long this took, "we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It really makes no difference to me."

Insalata leans forward as much as he is able to. "Why don't you skin me and get your information off of my bones, hitman?" René shakes him, and the man's head hits the wall. Insalata simply laughs, once and harsh.

Skull sighs loudly, and René rolls his eyes beneath his fedora. "Not interesting enough for you, lackey?" he calls over his shoulder. He tilts his head to the side and meets Insalata's eyes. "See what I have to deal with? There's just no pleasing some people."

"There's no pleasing you, senpai." Skull's in an unusually mouthy mood this evening. Normally, he keeps quiet and just lets René get on with his work, even if the civilian finds it distasteful. The car ride back to the mansion would be filled with loud complaints but never the mission itself.

René files that issue away for later. "I'd be more pleased if we could simply get our information and go, but alas…" The man in his hands sneers again. "Perhaps cutting off a few fingers will loosen our dear acquaintance's-"

A knife thuds deep into the wall next to the man's ear.

"Tongue," René finishes, staring at the knife. What in God's name? Insalata has all but stopped breathing, his brown eyes wide as he too stares at the handle from the corner of his eye. It's a well-made throwing knife from what René can tell, though he has to admit he's far more familiar with guns, and it sits in the wall just enough to the left of Insalata's ear that it didn't even knick it.

Pulling back from his unwilling soon-to-be informant, René turns towards Skull without loosening his grip.

Skull is scowling across the room from where he leans against the closed door, arms crossed and heels digging into the floor. "Could we possibly hurry this up?" he says. "I have a final in the morning and would like to actually, you know, sleep for the first time in, like three days?"

René suddenly has a lot more questions about Skull's life outside of the Il Prescetti Sette. Starting with where did he learn how to throw knives like that? Where did he get the knives and how has he been hiding them from the various brands of nosy they're living with (specifically René's own occasional dig through of Skull's room)? And ending with: what final for what class at what college.

Viper's going to have a field day if they hadn't managed to dig that information up. René's going to have a field day with them if they had and failed to share with the class.

"You're," Insalata clears his throat, "you're going to have to try harder than-"

Another knife thuds into the wall. This time it nicks Insalata's ear and almost takes a sliver of René's fedora with it.

Suddenly, the information is no longer worth whatever Insalata's being paid to keep it hush-hush, and the man blibbers and babbles his way through giving it to René, interspersed with whimpering pleas for mercy. From who, René isn't entirely sure.

Skull yanks his knives out of the wall, and they leave Insalata on the floor. René smacks the back of Skull's head. "Ow!" Skull jerks away, rubbing his head. "Senpai, what was that for?"

"Keeping secrets." René pauses for a moment. "And your shitty aim. You almost hit me twice."

Skull grumbles under his breath and reaches for the driver's side door.

"Absolutely not. I'm driving. I refuse to deal with the insanity you call driving on a good day, much less when you're sleep-deprived."