There were many things that the mafia taught him and there were things that he just sort of learned on his own. One of the things he learned on his own was not taking everything or everyone at face value. If he was conniving enough to make himself into whoever he was talking to wanted him to be, who was to say that other people wouldn't do the same? He was never trusting of new people. Ever. He always took everything that came out of their mouth to be a lie, regardless if that was true or not. It helped him to stay on his toes and to be wary; mafia members made enemies easily.
His nip to her ear was met with a surprised squeal and he would smirk to himself in satisfaction. Surely he could make her squeal like that again some time soon. Immediately after her squeal was overtaken with a growl of frustration as she raced after him, her own jaws making contact with his hips in retaliation. He would bite back the growl of pleasure that rolled in his chest at her touch, not wanting her to know just how much he'd enjoyed that. You'd better run, Scarlatti. She taunted him as she kept pace. A wicked smile would curve his ebony lips as he growled at her. Con piacere. He would take off with a burst of speed, very much intrigued by this game that they were playing while at the same time he kept an eye out for anything that might look like it could provide a suitable shelter from the rain. He doubted that there would be anything dry, unless they happened upon some deep set cave by chance but that didn't seem like a likely occurrence on an island.
