As the sun set over Naples, Bruno Bucciarati made his way through the crowded streets of the city, his thoughts preoccupied with the mysterious disappearances that had been occurring in the area. He had been seeing a young teen around town lately, and they had seemed oddly familiar to him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why. He had noticed their skittish nature and how quick they were to go from place to place. Though he had simply brushed it off with the small thought that you were new and unfamiliar with the area. Though they were friendly enough to say their hello’s and make quick conversation.

As he rounded a corner, he spotted them sitting on a bench, alone and seemingly lost in thought. Intrigued, Bruno approached them cautiously, not wanting to startle the teen. He took a seat beside them - a fair distance away - and studied their face for a moment. They were young, likely no older than sixteen, with a solemn expression that belied the worry they seemed to carry deep within them.

The temperatures had begun to drop and the cold air had arrived and had whipped through you, leaving you a trembling mess. Upon noticing, bucciarati takes off his jacket, placing it atop of your shoulders. You wrap yourself up in the comfortable fabric.

“It’s getting late, you should start heading home y’know. It’s dangerous at night…”

he has a feeling that he knows what’s going on, that you had been one of the people that had been appearing on those missing posters around town, it’s why you’re look so familiar. He’s just glad you haven’t been taken by passione for some sort of reason whether it be for money or because of some bad blood situation.

However this left more concerns than answers on his part.