Raffaele was a consort. While the price for even an hour of his time was worth a fortune, it clearly taxed him greatly. Entertaining nobles — both male and female alike — was a burden he was forced to shoudler.

In small moments like these, his whimsical charisma faded away and left behind the tired boy in its wake.

He was sitting in on the edge of a set of stone stairs overlooking a silent, empty pier. His favorite place.

The only place Raffaele could truly relax, think, and allow himself to be alone, genuine.