I'm Waiting For You, Vizzini

"Niente potrà ridurre la mia colpa," Enrico snapped back, his temper rising quickly from nerves already frayed to the edge by simply being here. "Non ho nemmeno bisogno di fare nulla per accelerare la tua morte, ho solo bisogno di aspettare, e non sarai più il fantasma di offuscare tutto ciò che faccio con la paura, non ci sarà più nessuno che possa uccidermi per quello che ho fatto. Sarò libero."

He closed his jaws with a snap and took a deep breath, firmly putting the lid back on his normally mild temper, taking a minute to compose himself much like a man might tug at his cuffs and bottom of a tuxedo jacket to straighten them once more after throwing a punch.

He leveled a cool gaze at Basileus. "Sei un brav'uomo, Basileus Scarlatti. Meglio della maggior parte. Meglio di me, certamente. Non meriti di morire." He hesitated, his gaze shifting to the forest around them. Off in the direction of the lands they'd both hailed from. Home. A bitter feeling rose in him. No matter how this played out, in the end one of them would die. Either he let Basileus die now or killed him in battle, or Basileus would kill him. It was such a waste. "Avrebbero mandato qualcuno tranne te."