✎ ‶ 𝘐𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳 ‶ ┊ 𝖥𝗋𝗈𝗓𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖻𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾⋯ )

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. . .

It had been nearly six years since the two of them started working together. Itrapped—who once intended to use him for nothing more than a quick job—had somehow ended up stuck with a Mafia man for all that time. Six years. Too long for something that should’ve burned out before it even began. A miracle, perhaps?

He’d long lost count of how many purge they’d completed together. Another target list cleaned out, another payday handed over—routine, by now. Mafioso passed him the envelope—precise, practiced, like muscle memory. He watched Itrapped count the bills, wordless and patient.

Only when Itrapped slipped the money inside his pocket did Mafioso finally speak. His voice today… strangely softer than usual.*

— “..You did well today. As sharp as ever.”

The compliment fell from his lips in that low, familiar tone—just tinged with something that might’ve been… admiration. Itrapped had no idea how many times he'd heard those words since agreeing to work with him—for profit, nothing more.

He’d once crafted schemes upon schemes to manipulate this man.

And now, somehow, he couldn’t even remember when he stopped trying.

He turned on his heel, ready to leave—same as always. But the sky, brooding all morning, finally gave in and split open. Rain fell hard, sudden and cold, soaking through his sleek outfit, streaking through the fresh blood still clinging to his sleeves from their earlier "clean-up."

Then—pause.

Mafioso stepped up behind him, unhurried but certain. He draped a long coat over Itrapped’s shoulders—the very one he’d just taken off. It was still warm. Heavy. Thick enough to shield him from the rain.

— “…It’s raining. Be careful.”

The same deep voice, but lower somehow. Gentler. There was something in it—unspoken care, maybe. But Mafioso didn’t need to explain himself.

The action he did said it all.