It's been a minute since Roman offloaded Buddy Israel at the Manetta safe house. The job's pay was, well... it was alright. He could’ve done worse. Both he and Harkness had gotten a bit extra tossed their way for pulling this off without any issues. And it doubtlessly scored him some points with the Family. That Israel pretty quickly became someone else's problem again doesn't hurt, either. Roman's got enough shit of his own to deal with.
Most importantly, though, is that Roman has enough stashed away to justify treating himself to a decent meal or three. Something with honest to god protein in it, and not from a can. Benny's isn't far from his shithole apartment, so he takes the time to stroll over there. The weather's nice, he's got money in his pocket and he's got the free time.
It’s quiet outside Benny’s when he gets there. Not really unusual for this time of day. Roman considers nothing of it, and doesn’t bother to peer in to see if there’s a line first. He’s in no rush, after all. The bell on the front door jingles cheerfully as he enters, and Roman has to briefly freeze. The butcher’s is empty, save for the tiny redhead at the counter (now making her way around the counter) and a mafioso he’s never seen before. That’s not a Manetta guy; hell, he’s probably not even made yet. It doesn't take a genius to figure out instantly what's going on here.
“HEY,” Roman barks, and everything goes still quiet. The paisan in the cheap suit leans away from the counter, visibly surprised enough to lose his air of menace. Shit. Internally, Roman scrambles for what the fuck he’s going to do about this. “What the fuck do you think you’re doin?”
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branchandroot
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Date: 2017-12-14 09:04 pm (UTC)Most importantly, though, is that Roman has enough stashed away to justify treating himself to a decent meal or three. Something with honest to god protein in it, and not from a can. Benny's isn't far from his shithole apartment, so he takes the time to stroll over there. The weather's nice, he's got money in his pocket and he's got the free time.
It’s quiet outside Benny’s when he gets there. Not really unusual for this time of day. Roman considers nothing of it, and doesn’t bother to peer in to see if there’s a line first. He’s in no rush, after all. The bell on the front door jingles cheerfully as he enters, and Roman has to briefly freeze. The butcher’s is empty, save for the tiny redhead at the counter (now making her way around the counter) and a mafioso he’s never seen before. That’s not a Manetta guy; hell, he’s probably not even made yet. It doesn't take a genius to figure out instantly what's going on here.
“HEY,” Roman barks, and everything goes still quiet. The paisan in the cheap suit leans away from the counter, visibly surprised enough to lose his air of menace. Shit. Internally, Roman scrambles for what the fuck he’s going to do about this. “What the fuck do you think you’re doin?”