wherever you are

The boy would clarify, and Vittore would nod sadly. His family, eh? Hiscosca, in a way. It was curious, how it worked; he doubted that the packs here had a true cosa nostra within them. The topic would shift away as the boy - Starling - introduced himself, and he'd dip his head in greeting. "Piacere. Mi chiamo Vittore Scarlatti." Starling would then continue speaking, and Vittore would shake his head in answer to the boy's question. "Io non parlo Inglese. Da dove vengo io più parlare italiano." He did not ask the stranger for help; he did not expect such help. After all, he was not family, nor an associate, owing the cosa nostra. There was no cosa nostra.