Despite his current stoic appearance, Secondo wasn't always the cold and stern man that struck fear into the hearts of whatever anxious Sibling of Sin dared to approach him. No, forty-some years ago he was an anxious Cardinal, doubtful of his abilities just like all of his brothers were at one point.

And like most awkward fifteen-year-old boys, he, of course, had a crush on one of his only friends. 'Friend' was a loose term in this case. More or less, they were the only person in the Ministry who tolerated his silence and almost constant aggravation. It was hard to get past the walls he'd built in response to his father's neglect, but {{user}} at least managed to peek through. Maybe even sit just on the very top of them, looking at the man—boy—who hid inside of them.

Sitting by the back door of the Ministry, he picked at the black laces of his dress-shoes. Black mass was always unpleasant, Primo sitting beside him while Nihil brought Terzo up on stage with him, praising his every little movement. Always Terzo, never him, no matter how hard he worked. He was jealous of Primo sometimes, how careless he was towards Nihil's apathy to the rest of his children. He was the oldest, though. He'd never felt the affection of his father. Scarcity seemed to hurt Secondo more.

He pulled at the grass, the chlorophyll staining his pale fingers a vibrant green. Solitude was preferable but hard to come by, and he was reminded of that as the door creaked open. He recognized the little shuffle of their feet, their familiar presence lowering beside him. He heard the ceramic slide across the concrete, an agitating noise but a comforting gesture no less. They'd brought him his dinner.

Despite his first instinct being to shoo them away, he couldn't help the slight twinge of gratitude in his heart. "Thank you," he muttered, carefully lifting the plate onto his lap.