It is their first mission since the one that had begun their relationship… which had been a month ago.
Lambo is actually able to walk beside Reborn and not be ignored… as often, though he does have to wear this ridiculous outfit.
He wears a body butt bodysuit (a skimpy piece of lingerie which begins as a choker at the neck, connected by eight lengths of mesh to a medallion a few inches beneath the breast and then continues into a thong; absolutely nothing else) with cow print for the collar and thong; he even has cow ears to go with it. He is down on his knees and arched into the table onto his chest, his mouth open as he accepts the 'treat' from his 'master'.
He is on a small stage with a pole behind him, level to the faces of his 'master' and the pimp who are sitting down in front of him.
And, of course, this is being watched by a 'fellow' pimp wishing to 'buy' Lambo for his own 'collection'; many quotes and many unquotes.
The grape is placed on his tongue and – just as rehearsed – he licks Reborn's finger with it.
The pimp laughs, absolutely delighted. "Che un animale delizioso! ( - what a delightful pet!)" He reaches a hand out to stroke Lambo's ass, want in his eyes and a most definite problem forming in his pants.
His hand is, of course, flicked away by the hand of his 'master'. "Non toccare la merce. ( - No touching the merchandise.)"
"Sei sicuro che sarà lui che vuole vendere? ( - Are you sure you will be wanting to sell him?)" He sounds too happy to even put into words.
Reborn tips Lambo's chin to the side, looking thoughtful as if debating the question. Lambo, like the darling pet he is, takes Reborn's thumb into his mouth and sucks, his one eye large, adoring, and brainless – like an actual dog that had grown to love to obsession its abusive owner.
The pimp laughs with absolute joy. "Come cute! ( - How cute!)" He tries again to touch Lambo.
This time his hand is grabbed and Reborn digs his thumb into the meaty part between the pimp's thumb and pointer finger until the man blanches. The pimp's scums – standing further back – go to move forward, but are shooed back by the hand of the pimp.
Reborn trails his wet thumb across his cheek and then drops it to brush (absentmindedly) at a nipple. The gasp that escapes Lambo is completely genuine. "E 'troppo vecchio per i miei gusti ora, non la metà di carino come era 12 anni fa quando l'ho comprato. ( - He is too old for my tastes now; not half as cute as he was 12 years ago when I first bought him.)" Lambo has to bite back a smile; 12 years ago, huh? Wasn't that when Reborn couldn't get rid of him, not the other way around?
"Fanno crescere troppo in fretta. ( - They do grow up too fast.)" He agrees with a sad tone. After a moment of contemplative silence, he claps his hands and offers a Cheshire grin to Lambo, though he talks to Reborn. "Imposta il tuo prezzo e abbiamo un accordo, amico mio! Egli porterà a termine la mia collezione di polizia imitazione! ( - Set your price and we have a deal, my friend! He will complete my animal-imitation collection!)"
Reborn smiles at the pimp. "E farò il nome. Tuttavia, mi devi consentire un momento per cercare di spiegare la situazione a lui. Egli è piuttosto attaccato e lasciando senza sapere perché avrebbe ucciso prima di qualsiasi dei vostri clienti. ( - And I will name it. However, you must allow me a moment to try and explain the situation to him. He is rather attached and leaving without knowing why would sooner kill him than any of your clients.)" He is waved with eager hands and eager eyes to do so.
Reborn opens his arms and Lambo – with a wag of his ass and bliss on his face – crawls off of the stage and onto his 'master's' lap, never getting off of all fours. He makes a sexy 'moo' sound in the back of his throat, something that sounds more like a plea to be fucked senseless, and wiggles his bottom down onto his lap; he may as well torture his lover, right?
Hands grasp his waist and Reborn lifts his head to pretend whisper into his ear; really, he's just dragging his tongue over the lobe of his ear until Lambo whimpers and his face flushes. He makes another pitiful 'moo' noise, this one more sad and confused, as if he just can't understand what his 'master' is saying to him.
And while he is on Reborn's lap, Reborn himself is using Lambo's body as a distraction and a disguise as he slips his gun out and points it behind himself through the sheer black covers of the chair, too many layers to see through, but hardly enough to deter the seven bullets that each hit their respective marks with hardly a sound at all, which Lambo tries to cover by a loud, whiny mewl.
It happens so fast, the pimp's scums don't have enough time to draw their own guns or make a sound (other than a few grunts, but those can be misinterpreted in this kind of situation) before they drop to the ground, which, again, Lambo tries to cover the sound of by making a weak sobbing sound, shaking his head back and forth and whimpering in distress.
However unfortunate, the pimp is not that stupid. He frowns and then looks back to his scum follows; he gasps and falls out of his chair, stumbling back and away from Reborn and Lambo. "Si tratta di un set up! Sono stato truffato! ( - This is a set up! I've been cheated!)"
There is a gun strapped just beneath the chair, just for this moment. However, he doesn't have to reach for it; into his hand, Reborn hands the Beretta. He kisses Lambo, deeply, almost like blood lust had descended upon him. "What are you waiting for?" He asks with that high and mighty tone of his, sitting back in the chair and looking at Lambo with a mad sort of reverence in his eyes.
"For you to hand me the gun." He points the Beretta between the eyes of the pimp; the pimp sucks in a deep breath, tears falling from his eyes. He pats furiously around his own body for his own gun, but, in his panic, can not get it free from the holster. He looks from him to Reborn with horror and confusion, unable to understand anything other than Italian.
'Bang!' He drops like a rag doll.
Tears streak Lambo's cheeks, but he isn't sorry for it. "You should have thought first before you tried to kidnap my best friend. ( - You should have thought first before you tried to kidnap my best friend.)"
It was only lucky to this pimp that I-Pin had been able to escape with only a ripped blouse and a few scratches; or else there would have been torture instead of a merciful shot to the head.
The gun is taken from his hand and Reborn licks one salty cheek. "The first kill is always the worst." He stands to his feet with Lambo hitched up to his chest in his arms. "Now, let's go." He lowers Lambo to his feet at the exit of the private bar, making the call to the clean up crew while Lambo slips into the bathroom and changes into his clothes.
When he comes back, Reborn is leaning against the exit, watching the door instead of the cleanup crew who had been on standby for this exact moment.
He doesn't look at Lambo as he turns around and walks out. Lambo, however, follows after him with the unwavering loyalty that he has for the hitman. He stares at the back of his head as they walk into the Ferrari 599, both of them into the backseat as they are driven away.
The moment the door shuts; Lambo pushes his head into Reborn's chest, sobbing his heart out as his hands catch in the hitman's suit. Reborn does not tell him to suck it up, or tell him that he is pathetic, or even abuse him, but nor does he acknowledge him, only lending a shoulder to cry on as if he didn't even know Lambo was crying on it to begin with. The ignorance is… calming, for once; like old times; like before Lambo dressed like a cow-fetish sex slave and shot a man dead.
He feels pathetic, that's for certain. How is he expected to be a hitman if he can't kill a god damn criminal? Someone who tried to capture and sell his best friend and would have succeeded had it been anyone but I-Pin. How had he ever thought that he could kill Reborn? It always looked so easy! It was just point and click! Like the damn American auto insurance commercial said! – Except it wasn't a mouse, you were pointing a gun and clicking on the trigger.
He had seen everyone else do it and, except for a few somber expressions, none of them had cried. … He was weak, wasn't he? That was why Reborn was ignoring him, because he was shamefully weak and now the stingy hitman knew that he had made the wrong choice for a lover. Well, sor~ry, he can't help it! It wasn't even that he felt bad for killing the pimp, he just felt dirty for it! He had watched that man cower and cry and it had been like shooting a child; it hadn't felt right.
"Tirare qui. ( - Pull over here.)" The car pulls over and Reborn slides out of the car. Lambo blinks before running his sleeve over his eyes, frame shaking. Oh great, he's being abandoned… again. Just like old times, right?
Except Reborn reaches back into the car, grabs his elbow, and pulls him forcefully from the backseat, dragging him onto the sidewalk. Lambo looks up at him with wide-eye confusion as an arm wraps around his waist and pulls him flush to Reborn's side.
"Puoi lasciare ora. ( - You can leave now.)" The car pulls away from the curb and disappears after a ways.
They're in front of the hotel they rent every time they come to this part of Italy; the same one Lambo lost his virginity in. He looks from the splendor building to Reborn.
"A first kill deserves a drink." He is pushed towards the building and then into the elevator; he either must have made earlier preparations or no one was going to dare stop him.
Lambo stares at him. "… What was your first kill like?"
The hitman looks down at him. "Messy and surprising." He speaks in a tone that clearly says 'drop it', So Lambo (guessing from that) does.
He rests his head on his shoulder and his arms around his neck, sniffling. "I don't think I can do that again."
"Neither do I, but you will."
"Yare, yare, what a comforting thought."
As far as first drinks go – Lambo can not hold down his alcohol… and it ends up all over the bar, the sink, and the toilet.