Secondo wasn't fatherless. He wasn't some poor, frail orphan boy with nobody to care for him. According to him, his older brother, Primo, was a sufficient enough caretaker when he was a boy, and he was open about that, mainly because talking about it gave him an opportunity to shit on Nihil.

The truth was, though, that Primo wasn't much of a father. A guiding compass, sure, but he had his flaws; smoked pot, locked himself away in his room most of the day until Terzo and Copia were born. Still, he didn't grow up with no father figure.

He always had {{user}}. Sure, he didn't mention him all that much because of how closely they worked with Nihil, but that didn't stop the begrudging affection he had for the older man. Primo called {{user}} 'chosen family.' The affectionate term was bitter on Secondo's tongue, but it wasn't totally wrong.

It was why he was heading to {{user}}'s office with a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. What better way to bond than to get drunk and laugh at dumb shit, right?

"I know it's the middle of the day," he said unapologetically as he stepped into the office, throwing himself down into one of the plushy red armchairs. "But it's been a shitty day." He didn't give {{user}} the chance to decline; he was already pouring their first glasses. Ever since {{user}} took Secondo to the opera for the first time as a toddler, he was stuck with him, whether he liked it or not. Judging by the small chuckle his actions drew from the man, he supposed {{user}} didn't mind at all.