I'm Waiting For You, Vizzini

Ooc: this is all meant to be in Italian but too last for that on my phone.

“Perhaps not,” he acknowledged, his air of dignity recovered. “But will you either, Scarlatti? Or will even the ghosts call you to heel at a snap of their fingers? What a well trained dog you are.” Words dripping with scorn, trying to keep the other male running on anger until he could see an opportunity to act. The more Basileus had railed against it, the more his decision to save the wretch was stubbornly solidified. Already he was drooping, but Enrico was wary yet.

“Do you know,” he continued, more comversationally, “That I was in love? She had the face of an angel, and I traded my soul for her love. I trusted her with all of me, but it turned out I was just a convenient way to gain rank in her cosca.” He paused. “Pay attention, Basileus, this is a morality tale about trusting pretty young women. Wouldn't want you to do something foolish for one, would we?”