Just before Lunch, Erik's head had stopped throbbing enough for him to stay on his feet and walk to the work site where he had fallen. Giovanni could tell the boy was nervous, and did his best to put the young man at ease. He walked slow and well away from the young man, and talked genially as was his way. "Where did you develop an interest in architecture?" He asked.

Erik was quiet for a long while before deciding the old Italian probably couldn't do him any harm even if he wanted to. His stiff movements and leathery face made Erik think he was well into his sixties, a rarity for men in his field Erik knew. Accidents in masonry were remarkably common, and even if a stonemason didn't die of an accident labor-intensive nature of the work often destroyed the body after its forth decade. Perhaps the man was younger than he looked; his daughter was quite young, after all. "In my youth."

"In your youth?" The old man's dark eyes shone as he laughed. "Oh how youth is wasted on the young! How old are you, my boy?"

"Sixteen. Seventeen by now, actually," Erik answered, quietly. The man's laugh stopped as he looked over at the boy, stunned. Judging by his height and his quiet nature, Giovanni had been sure the man was at least two years older than he claimed.

"Certainly not!"

Erik nodded, nervously. "Why, Signore?"

"You are simply and old soul is all. You're only a boy yet you behave every bit a man," Erik hummed thoughtfully at that. "You have a master then?"

"Not in architecture, no Signore," he had a master in a far different, often more sinister art. Herbs and remedies were a tricky, dangerous art that could be used to heal and destroy and required extensive training to master. Erik had left his training before its completion but was eager to return to his education if the opportunity ever presented itself.

Giovanni didn't press the subject of what he had studied, feeling that it was not a topic he wanted to hear. Finally they arrived at the site while the workers were off having lunch. Completely alone, Erik wandered onto the site and admired it in a way only a trained eye would be able to. The work was in its earliest stages of development, little more than a wooden skeleton, but Giovanni could tell that Erik saw so much more.

"It's a manor for a wealthy young couple. You're standing in the-"

"Dinning hall," Erik finished, and Giovanni nodded with a smile. "Eighteen feet tall, one hundred and seventy square feet. Will the doorways be arches or rectangular?"

"Arches, of course," Giovanni's tanned leathery face pulled into a smile. Erik was beginning to think the man would never desire to harm so much as a fly, a thought that put him considerably more at ease. "We are in Rome, after all. My ancestors invented the arch you know," he teased the boy gently, and thought he even caught a hint of a smile on the boy's mouth.

"They don't understand the arch in France. So many buildings attempt it but never like I've seen here. It's going to be a stunning building. Marble or granite stonework?"

"So you're from France, then? The way you move I would have thought you were a Gypsy. French architecture is something, but no country will ever rival the architecture of Italy. I would prefer to use granite for the sake of the building's structure, but the owners prefer marble," Giovanni explained, and Erik's eyes rolled under his mask.

"The wealthy are always looking to flaunt their wealth, even at the cost of the integrity and artistry of the building."

Giovanni nodded his agreement, surprised at the boy's passion considering his age. He had a remarkable eye, considering he was never formally trained. Natural talent like Erik's was increasingly hard to find. Slowly the workers began to trickle back into the site, and the boy became immediately tense. He moved back to Giovanni's side, and the aging man squeezed the boy's shoulder comfortingly. "Come along. Gaia will have lunch ready for us."

Erik hesitated, looking past the building site to the open road beyond as if he was considering running. It would be easy; the dark-haired, dark-eyed old Italian would never be able to catch him and he doubted if any of the workers would give chase. But it was so beautiful here! The buildings were ancient works of art, the history was phenomenal. The old man was harmless… kind, even. Erik couldn't think of anyone he had met who would have thought to pull him unconscious from the snow, let alone take him into their home and tend to him. Winter well underway, and even if he left he would have to cross the Alps before the ice melted; perhaps it was best to stay, at least for now.

The pair returned to Giovanni's house, and sure enough they were greeted with a wall of wonderful smells the moment the entered the door. Erik hadn't realized how hungry he was until the smell of food struck him. Giovanni heard the boy's stomach rumble and laughed. "We'll get you fed properly my boy. How long have you been living with Italians?"

"I've been living on my own, not with Italians," Erik admitted, quietly, embarrassed that his hunger was so obvious.

"I thought that might have been the case," Giovanni smiled. "Well you are in for a treat. Lunch is the most important meal of the day, and my daughter is the best cook in all of Rome."

"Nonsense, PapĂ ," Gaia scolded from the kitchen, turning to smile at the pair. Erik was used to the beauty of Mediterranean women, with their tanned skin, full lips, and dark hair. It was Gaia's eyes that made her different from the rest of the Italian women Erik had encountered, he realized; there was a remarkable sort of sadness and longing in those dark eyes, very unlike the mirth in her father's. Even though she smiled with her mouth, it did not meet her eyes. "Come and eat, I made plenty for everyone."

The meal was a regular feast for Erik, with large servings of hand-made pasta with a rich hearty sauce, broiled fish and clams, cold cuts of dried meats, and free flowing wine the likes of which Erik had never tasted. It was easily the most remarkable meal Erik had ever eaten, and he was suddenly glad he decided not to run.

"Well, what do you think?" Giovanni smiled, immensely amused by the boy's voracious appetite.

"I think you were right, this must be the best meal in all of Rome."

Gaia tipped her head and smiled modestly. "Well, thank you. There's fruit and tea if you're still hungry."

"I don't think I could eat another bite," Erik promised.

"Good," announced Giovanni. "After la siesta, we have a lot to do."

Under the mask, Erik raised a brow before Giovanni continued. "I am going to take you on a tour of some of the architectural masterpieces of Rome. It's been ages since I've had the pleasure of talking art with such a natural talent," the man smiled, and Erik smiled some privately at the praise.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and Gaia rose to answer it. The moment she opened it she closed it again with an annoyed look. The knocking began again and was more persistent this time. Gaia shot an apologetic look at her father and their guest before opening the door and slipping outside to deal with whoever it was that was knocking. Giovanni sighed some.

"I have six daughters. Gaia is the youngest, and the only one who remains unmarried but not for lack of suitors. All of my girls are among the most desirable in Rome, but Gaia must be the only woman in the whole city to turn down even the most persistent of men," he mused, pouring himself and his guest more wine.

"She doesn't wish to marry?" Erik asked, having little knowledge of marriage except that it was an important part of European life.

"If she does it is news to me," Giovanni frowned. "I worry she remains unwed because of my failing health. She's made herself the woman of the house, and not my daughter. I do hope it's just that none of the men interest her and not because of her feeling of duty to me."

Gaia slipped back inside and cleared the table. Giovanni couldn't help but pry. "Who was at the door?"

"Marco." She said simply.

"Why didn't you show him in?"

"Because he has more interest in getting under my skirt than he does putting a ring on my finger," Gaia announced with mature rationale beyond her age. "If he showed half as much dedication to his work as he does to winning my favor, maybe I would consider him," her words spoke one thing but her voice spoke another thing entirely; she wouldn't consider the man even if he were a prince, Erik could tell.

Giovanni merely shook his head with a sigh. "Well what do you say, Erik? Shall we go tour Rome?"