Ranger's Apprentice [Mask]

He bowed his head in an elegant, gentlemanly manner. "I would be most glad to assist your hunt, principessa, and most honored. It sounds a most excellent choice of first prey." In his time in the cosca, he'd come to see that there tended to be three types of young wolves seeking admittance - those who chose to make their kill as difficult as possible to show off, those who made it as easy as possible out of cowardice or laziness, and those middle-of-the-road ones who chose difficult prey but were smart enough to make sure they planned things so the odds were in their favor. Some soldati and consigliere preferred the first type, but his preference had always been for those middle ground associates. They were often more practical and level headed than those who were showboating or so desperate to impress that they bit off more than they could handle. He thoroughly approved of ambition, but ambition tempered by intellect and a certain degree of caution, not blindly throwing oneself into the abyss.

Perhaps if he hadn't been so blinded when he'd thrown himself into the abyss, he would not have broken omerta.

The alpha's daughter seemed to be choosing that middle path. Choosing to have her first real hunt be held with just the two of them rather than a pack-wide hunt was ambitious. The fewer the hunters, the more dangerous a hunt for bigger game could be. Picking a target that was already weakened was practical. If she hadn't been female, and hadn't been so terribly memorable in appearance, he might once have considered her as a potential associate. Though perhaps if she were as righteous as most of the pack, she would not have considered being invited to the cosca as a compliment anyway.

"It would please me to teach you my language," he added as he gestured for her to lead the way. It was, after all, her hunt. He was only there as her backup. He would as the experienced hunter step in to take over if it became dangerous, but until then - whether for success or for failure - the yearling would be the lead here. "I do not get to speak properly with others not knowing my language. I do not know any other..." he paused, mentally deleting 'men of honor' and replacing it with "... any others who speak italiano here." He would never be able to hope to speak with another man of honor again, knowing that the conversation would inevitably end in the death of one or the other of them.