"I remember everything. It was only three weeks ago that I came to America, actually."

It wasn't like Ilaria to ramble, but she found herself telling Joe more about herself. Frankly, it was nice to have someone to talk to. She told him about losing her mother when she was young, and being sent to the private boarding school where she learned English. Briefly, she mentioned her father, talking about him like a commanding officer more than a father. 

"I suppose my life really started when I began working for the old surgeon as an assistant. That's when I knew I wanted to be a doctor."

Glancing down, she noticed his coffee still mostly full. Smiling, she took the cup from him. 

"Here, try it this way."

She added two cubes of sugar and a dose of cream, stirred it, then handed it back to him. 

Joe could relate to the loss of her mother. He felt his heart open as she spoke of the experience. He remembered his fondly, and his father also, which is where their experience differed. His was kind. Generous. Less an authority figure, more a friend. Yet, the loss of him even before his mother also stung and maybe more so. His smile as she spoke more of her parents turned into a half-hearted, hopefully sympathetic looking effort.

"That's funny." He said with a now growing smirk, thinking back on how his life really got going too.

"My life begun quite early. I missed schooling. Any kind, to be fair. I've only recently begun learning to read and write."

He'd never spoken a word of his illiteracy to anyone. Now it was less noticeable and when starting out he did quite well to hide it. At least he hoped he did.

Joe realized he was being a little too open. It was a secret he'd never shared and it gave him an odd feeling. He turned his attention back to the coffee. He took a sip with the sugar and cream now mixed in.

"Wow." He said, surprised. He took another sip. He could now taste the sweetness and creaminess with the added flavor of the roasted beans cutting through it. This was certainly not what he was expecting. A welcome surprise, which had his eyes a little wider open than before. He took another sip, this time along the lines of what he might take in when hitting the bottle.

"Now this. This is good." Joe said with a liquid mustache floating above his curled up lips.

Ilaria grinned and laughed softly at his newly found excitement for the coffee. 

"Most people find it more palatable that way. I'm just a plain woman, I suppose. I don't make a fuss about much, I like things simple."

She picked up her cup again, taking a slow sip as she thought about all he had shared. She wasn't used to men that would speak so casually - so friendly. 

​​​​​​"It's not often, if at all, that someone is so open. I appreciate that. In my experience, especially with soldiers, the nurses are little more than hired help with breasts to look at. It's nice to be treated as a human being."

Ilaria grinned sheepishly, hoping that didn't sound as awkward as it did coming out of her mouth.

A nod followed her explanation of being simple. A few nods, actually. She seemed down to earth, more than simple though, to Joe. Not like most women he'd usually interact with.

He was feeling quite good, a little more awake from both the coffee and equally stimulating conversation. His wound now an afterthought. He was enjoying both too much to think about his arm being in a sling, although he was still aware of the fact at a general level.

As he went back for another sip and began slurping the coffee inwards, he almost choked the liquid down the wrong hole as he heard her say 'the nurses are little more than hired help with breasts to look at'.

"Mmhmmm." Joe offered up as he coughed.

"I hear ya."

What caught his attention was that he would usually treat women that way too. In a sense, he was a soldier. A hired gun at times. On the front lines, making people dread their opposition to the group he called family. So help them if they wanted to do his peers harm. He'd take a bullet before that would happen and be right back here again.

But beyond that, he'd cut himself off for the most part to any kind of deeper connections with women. They were more or less a means to an end. A flirt, to be flirted with. And then taken home, or wherever the alcohol soaked mood took things. He was a stone cold womanizer, his heart frozen from a relationship gone sour.

He left discussing that out loud alone and offered up another masked smile.

"It's good to meet someone that isn't trying to get something from me." He threw the compliment back her way, this time the smile that accompanied it turning out to be more genuine.

Ilaria nodded, finishing off her cup thoughtfully.

"I can only imagine the kind of life you've led in this kind of work. I doubt the flying bullets are the only danger. As a woman, I doubt my work will be in the streets, but I can see the toll it takes in the eyes of my patients."

The light from the window dimmed as the sun fell below the buildings. Ilaria looked out the window for a moment. 

​​​​​​"Are you hungry? I've been staying here the last few days, and I have some leftover ravioli I can warm up."

Adonis felt the sudden feeling of needing to be elsewhere. He wasn't use to this kind, caring attitude. Not since a lifetime ago. He felt odd. And like he wasn't worthy of such attention. He jerked himself up quickly in response to his uneasiness and flicked his legs over the side of the bed.

"I have to-"

With moving so suddenly he felt pain shoot through his arm. His face scrunched up and his head dipped forward. His eyes closed as he tried to ride out the immediate pain of not taking it slow. In the process, he dropped the cup he was holding in his good hand. It hit the floor and splashed coffee about before rolling to a halt next to Ilaria's foot.

Ilaria was quick to her feet. She rested a hand on his uninjured shoulder. 

"Easy, Joe. Rilassare..."

She bent down to her knees and moved the coffee cup out of his way, then stood again, a look of concern in her eyes. 

"You lost a lot of blood, you're going to be a bit weak, and certainly in pain for a while. I can give you something to help, if you want, but you really should rest at least over night." 

Looking into his eyes, she gave him a gentle, reassuring smile. 

Joe grit his teeth as he moved himself back into a semi laying down position on the bed with Ilaria's help. He hated it. Being so needy. So unable to do what he wanted, when he wanted. The fire in his eyes may have been noticeable, even though he was weak. He took a moment to let his fuming die down, then nodded at Ilaria.

"Ok, Ilaria. Whatever you say. I trust your judgement."

The last time he'd said that he was in Jack Mezzo's presence. A man among men. And yet, here he was, vulnerable and weak and deferring his decision making to a women. But, he did trust her. And it only took two hours, a gunshot wound and some coffee later to open himself up again to the possibility that the fairer sex might not just be here to be used and discarded. That they were more than simply a release of pent up energy. Maybe, even equals.

A smile resurfaced on his sensible face as he looked steadily back into her eyes.

"Ravioli, then?"

With a smile, Ilaria nodded. 

"I'll go and get that ready. Just relax for a bit, maybe close your eyes if you like. I won't be long."

She took her time in the little kitchen, hoping Joe would be able to rest a bit. It wasn't hard to see that he didn't like being kept down. Most men didn't, but sometimes the body made the decision in spite of a stubborn spirit. Truth be told, she liked Joe. He was easy to talk to, and so much different than the gruff military types she was used to caring for. 

Fifteen minutes later, she had two bowls of ravioli warmed and on the little table in the kitchen. There was a bit of bread on a plate in the center, and two glasses of milk. She walked back down the hall to the room where Joe was resting. 

"Dinner is ready. I thought you might like to try and get up and see how you feel. Slowly, this time, though. Don't want you tearing my pretty stitches."

Ilaria winked and stood near to help steady him as he stood. 

​​​​​​

Joe smirked. He kept his eyes closed a moment and enjoyed the smell that was present with Ilaria's voice. Her voice, also soothing, and let them both play on him a moment as his face played its own happy tune. Her comment on the stitches being pretty, and her handy work, made the humor in him last even longer.

Eventually, he opened his eyes and followed her instructions, moving slowly and allowing her to help him up. He eyed the food with a somewhat gluttonous look. The gunshot made him a little weak, a little damaged, but that didn't kill his appetite.

"Wow. You made this?"

He hadn't yet accepted her invitation for something else to help. He was too proud to. But this, this might just be the cure, at least that's the thought that lingered as he licked his lips.

Casually, as if it were completely normal, Ilaria steadied him until he was seated at the table, then moved around and took the seat across from him. 

"Si. It's a bit lonely here at night, so I thought I'd make use of the time. You don't need a big, fancy kitchen to make pasta; just a little counter space and some good semolina flour."

She laid her napkin across her lap and quickly made the sign of the cross before picking up her fork. 

"I hope you don't mind milk, it's all I had in the fridge."

The ravioli was still tender and flavorful, a savory bite of ricotta and mushroom, sprinkled with a bit of fresh parmesan. 

"I don't mind."

He could've really went some whisky. It wasn't usual for him to be this straight laced. But whatever she could manage, he was fine with. He hadn't even thought of the drink till she brought up milk. Her company was quite pleasing all on its own.

"You live here too?"

He raised his fork and took a helping of the pasta. He eyed her for how she might respond to his question as he did. He was curious. Not many women he knew were so independent. Even ladies of the night had their own version of a man in their life. Wow was another thought that followed as he tasted his first mouthful, quickly breaking his gaze on her and looking down at the plate instead. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he had to look over the meal as he nodded his approval.

Ilaria chewed her food and nodded before she replied. 

"Yes. It seemed silly to buy a place when there was plenty of room here. Besides, there will be times I need to be close to my patients. I have a little room just down the hall. A bed, a comfy chair by the window. It's all I need, really. I'll have a room in the clinic in Vegas, when it opens."

Frugality was something else she picked up from her father. They were never poor--not even close; but Generale Santoro was not a wasteful man. He ran his household like he ran his base. Ilaria had a budget for groceries and personal needs. The boarding school was extremely strict, and she had been in uniform from youth till she moved to the States, and her wardrobe reflected it. Since coming to work for Ligambi, she'd already amassed more money than she'd ever seen, but she really didn't know what to do with it other than squirrel it away and stick to her old habits. 

Adonis caught himself flicking between thoughts of her, his food, and a solid drink of something with a kick to it. The taste of the milk as he used it to wash down some of the food and wet his mouth a little didn't help. But, he smiled away as she told of opening another clinic.

"Fair enough."

He kept it short. He didn't want to pry too much. He didn't know her enough to know what was or wasn't proper conversation. Hell, he hadn't spoken to someone on this level for a long time as it was. He took another mouthful and enjoyed the pasta instead of diving deeper into her current situation.

After a moment of silence, one that filled the room to the extent it made Adonis take more notice of the room he was in as his eyes wondered, he remembered about Ilaria speaking of other abilities Ligambi might find useful. He didn't say anything at the time but to cut through the quietness he threw it out there.

"So, what are these other abilities you spoke of earlier? Not just a healer, you said."

"Poisons."

Her reply was matter of fact; as simply as if she'd said baking, or gardening, or any other innocuous activity everyone talks about. Ilaria took a sip of her milk, then continued. 

"You could say it was a by-product of my pharmacy training. And my penchant for chemistry in school. I was a bit bookish as a child. Still am, if I'm honest."

She took her napkin and dabbed her lips, then settled back comfortably in her chair. 

"That's why there will be a small lab in both my clinics; for making 'custom' blended goods. Chiamami la strega."

She shrugged impishly, smirking.

Adonis' mouth was left gaping open as he listened intently to what followed on from "Poisons." He had the fork hanging there ready to scoff down another bit of the pasta he was thoroughly enjoying. But the way she said what she did, then nonchalantly continued as if nothing, caught his attention like a house on fire and had him pause and cock his head to the side. He had a weird, somewhat surprised looked on his face.

Was this the same person he'd spent the last however many hours now with? After a moment, he slowly edged the ravioli into his mouth and chewed away, nodding, yet still with a concerned look on his face.

"Poisons?" He said between chewing. He probably should've swallowed first. But, he had to ask. Joe felt less concerned about how he was being received right at this moment and was more focused on Ilaria's seemingly darker side which was unfolding over re-heated pasta.

The look on his face was hilariously satisfying. Outside of Tara Byrne, Joe was the first person she'd told about her "hobby."

"It is a practice as ancient as time. Modern medicine is a wonderful thing, but there are so many useful recipes hidden in old books. I have a book that was written in the 1600s by a chemist, and the first thing I made was an ointment that gave my boarding school roommate a rash for weeks. She deserved it...she was a twit. Anyway, from there I became more intrigued, and studied more."

She paused and smiled a bit. 

​​​​​​"You are surprised that a healer has some darker secrets, no?" 

​​​​​

Joe's eyes widened as she went on. His fork went onto his plate with a little clank. He swallowed and let his grin develop. He chuckled as she said 'twit'. 

This was now much more interesting than the solids he should've had to start the day. The whisky he'd consumed for breakfast instead was well out of his system now. The caffeine giving him a focused attention he'd not yet had the pleasure of experiencing before. That, coupled with this topic, and his dinner host, what a hoot.

He pushed his plate to the side. What sore arm.

"Oh, you noticed I'm surprised?" He said with an even wider grin and a light chuckle.

"Tell me, what do you intend to do with all this knowledge of alchemy.." He asked in a leading manner. He wasn't sure that was the right term, but he liked the word none the less. And he remembered it being an ancient type of practice to do with chemicals.

Ilaria laughed heartily, but she knew what he meant. 

"If I were a master of alchemy, I would never have to work another day in my life. But, my toxicology ambitions are simply going to be a side 'gig.' I will move the usual product for the family easily, but I will make my own extra profit selling tiny little vials of untraceable murder to select consumers."

Talking about it out loud was liberating, in a way. Although she had not yet killed anyone, the fact that she had the ability was something she internally struggled with. She loved to care for people, and had saved numerous lives over the years; but there was a mysterious power in the ability to take a life that she just couldn't quell her curiosity for.

As for Joe, she was relieved to see him interested rather than horrified. Sure, it wasn't conventional dinner table conversation; but they weren't in a conventional business.

​​​​​​

"Well well well." Joe said as he grabbed the bread that was still in the center of the table. He pointed it at Ilaria.

"Aren't we interesting." He said with a sly grin. He offered it forward to the once nurse come Mafiosa, and all of this over the breaking of some bread. He hoped she would take the end of it so he could snap off a piece to taste with his good arm, and leave her with the rest.

The conversation had taken a wild, yet very satisfying turn. And Joe couldn't help but enjoy it. He liked her sensitive side. It reminded him of a better time in his life. But this, this was what he now lived for. The nefarious potential of people he came across as he went about his dirty business.

Joe's hands were never clean, even when they'd been scrubbed with steel wool. He believed he was destined for greatness, as his nickname suggested, but he never really felt like he would be completely satisfied, no matter what transpired. These moments, these connections, were what he was coming to realize more and more were where his bliss settled. Even when, and maybe especially when, they circled back to how he could get more and more grime under his fingernails.

It was a weirdly intoxicating aroma, the play of the dark and the light within. But he thrived off of it. It made his toes curl. And he hoped one day, when they really did and stayed stiff at that, he would be stretched between the two worlds of heaven and hell. Like a fallen Angel, of sorts.

And this was what he was now seeing in Ilaria, more and more. An angel in some ways, being a healer, yet also one that walked in the shadows. His grin may have seemed a little too emphatic, but he didn't care. He was smitten by her and relaxed back into the chair as he bit into the piece of bread.