Mazza y Vincenza || Ora di pranzo

[amaceing]

As was customary for the rather private assassin, once dinner had been doled out he had taken his leave. Wordlessly carrying his bowl out into the city, looking for somewhere high, and quiet where he might remain undisturbed. Today it was a bell tower not far from where the four assassin's were staying; and he perched easily upon the ledge, the

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[tradita]

And as usual, Vincenza hadn't questioned why the assassin had left to eat alone. If she had the option she would have done the same, but Nereida usually pouted until the Venetian woman sat down and begrudgingly ate dinner with her and Matteo ( if he was around ).

But tonight Mazza had left with the mission documents, and Vincenza hadn't even looked at them yet. For her own sanity she needed to at least give it a thrice over before she was satisfied, so she snuck out and followed the masked man toward the bell tower. As odd a place as that was for him to be eating dinner, she didn't even think to question that either. Mazza was a strange man, so he did strange things; it made sense to her when said like that.

She followed him up, taking her time scaling along the side of the tower and then quietly hopping up on the ledge behind him.

"Mazza," She said lowly, assuming he had heard her approaching, but her steps had been pretty inaudible.

[amaceing]

Mazza didn't notice the girl, not until she'd spoken his name. His head snapped back to look at her, nearly spewing the mouthful of food out. He dropped his bowl in surprise; it hit the roof below with a clatter and a crash, spilling out over the shingles, little bits of teracotta rolling down the roof, falling harmlessly to the street below. Meanwhile Mazza's hands were in motion, nearly taking his own eye out with the spoon he still gripped in his fervor to haul his mask back up.

But it was likely too late; in the short time he'd had his head turned back, it was likely impossible to miss the ugly scars that crawled up his face; an extended smile, cut into flesh in a gruesome, upturned smile.

[tradita]

Vincenza flinched. Not from the brief sight of the man's face, but from the sudden crash of the bowl upon the rooftops below. Her eyes flew open in mimicked surprise, and she froze in her spot. Once the initial shock was gone, she let her mind register what she had seen. Well...no wonder he hid his face under that mask, she would too.

Now she had forgotten what she had intended to say to begin with, "Well that was a waste." was the first thing that tumbled from her lips, and she regretted it almost as soon as it was said. "I--" crap. This was hard to recover from. Now she couldn't NOT think about what was hiding under that mask of his. Jesus, how the hell did he even survive that?

"...I need the mission papers."

[amaceing]

"You startled me, donna," Mazza murmured, trying to quell the quick, sharp beat of his heart that was normally reserved for the thrill of battle.

At the mention of the food, he peered mournfully down towards where it had fallen, and sighed. No supper for this soldier tonight, it seemed. He seemed just as at a loss as to what he should say as she was, but was thankful when she chose not to address them.

"Ah- scuse," he apologized, hand rifling for where he had shoved the papers into his sash-

and blinking when they were not there.

"Merda!" he swore, his hands coming away empty, staring once more over where he had climbed up, and subsequently dropped his dinner, "I must have dropped them climbing up here,"