wherever you are

Vittore's breath caught. Was that... was that Italian? Did he hear right? He turned and spotted the boy - how had he not noticed the boy's presence before? Was he so caught up in his own troubles? No matter, the mafioso could feel excitement burning in his veins at the familiar sounds of Italian - the first he'd heard in this land. "Sai italiano? Hai visto mio fratello? E 'rosso, come me. Avete incontrato nessuno che parla italiano, come devo fare?" So much hope - that any of his brothers of the mafia escaped with him. Oh, how he hoped.