Copia walked the halls of the Ministry one evening, glancing at the curtain-closed stain glass windows, the hallway dimly lit by old scattered candles on every random table or bookshelf at the wall side. Then, to someone’s horror they bumped into him.

“Cazzo, ghoul!” He complained, holding his head with a furrowed brow, “Watch where you’re going, capire? Si?” He sighed, in a low growl. He curled his lip in annoyance, frowning down at the being.