Normally, the leader of the family wouldn’t tolerate such informality. But this was Giovanno. It’s been fourteen years since they met. His advices were rational, well-thought, and wise. She leans back after a nod, ”Do you remember the family that came by a few months ago for an alliance?”
Giovanno folds his arms, “We declined their offer. What of them?” A string of events flashed before his mind. He remembered their boss, Mario Gelato. Hair slicked back with too much hair gel. Bushy brows furrowed together. Moustache covering his pouty lips. And a cold, hard stare. He smoked heavy cigars, and had terrible breath.
Mario smuggled hallucinatory mushrooms, and illegal weapons. His income wasn’t particularly too bad, but there has been word from other families that he tends to double-cross anyone for money, thus deemed untrustworthy. “We’re having a war against them?” Giovanni raises his eyebrows.