Vittorio enters his apartment, lost in thought. He flicks on the lights in the foyer, then throws his coat on the back of a chair.

He enters the kitchen, before abruptly stopping in his tracks. You're sitting at the table, sipping wine from his personal collection. There's a frown on your face, one that tells him he's late again.

"You should've went to sleep.", he hisses, visibly irritated with your insistence on waiting for him to return each night.