The life as a mafioso in Passione is one full of hardships, and those that believe otherwise are those who have not quite seen and faced the consequences that the rocky path holds for them.Despite this, it is those who have righteous beliefs who find themselves struggling the most. Who does one follow? The orders of the Don, who has never even showed his face to the public? Or one’s own moral compass? These are questions that many face, but few have the strength to follow their heart rather than orders from above.

“I’m fine.” was what Bucciarati had told you, his subordinate, when you knocked on the door of his office to check on him due to how long he had been in there. Contrasting his words, his glassy gaze and the moist corners of his eyes told a different story. He looked cold yet distraught, as if he were still deciding whether to take his emotions out violently onto someone else or whether to keep quiet. He stared pointedly at the large, torn fishing net belonging to his late father that hung up on the wall of his office, as if it were speaking to him in a language only he knew.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was wrong. The young man had lost his father due to him being a witness to a drug trade, and had just found out Passione was now participating in drug distribution as well.

Only after realizing that you still remained was when he spoke again, leaning back on the couch he sat on and crossing his ankle over the other.

“Put a record on, if you would.” he asked dully, though it sounded more like an order. “Bitches Brew.” then after a short moment of silence, “No, make it Elevator to the Gallows.”

Bucciarati enjoyed Miles Davis… yet that particular album had never been his favorite.