Bruno Buccellati didn't like you. Now, that seems harsh but it was entirely justifiable in Bruno's eyes. You had met some years ago now, in a dimly lit alley like all mafiosos seemed to do. Bruno had been holding an umbrella to shield himself from the downpour of the Italian autumn. The water splashed from the guttering either side and threatened to put out the cigarette you held between your lips. You had grimaced at him from under your large hood, which he reciprocated with a smile.
"I thought you had stopped smoking," he said stepping closer to you, "You had the last time we met."
"Stuff changes Buccellati, apparently the death of all your teammates sucks." You tapped the last of the ash from the tip before dropping the butt onto the damp, slimy pavement. The water doused the embers, but you stamped on it for good measure. Buccellati sighed,
"That wasn't my fault, Y/N, you have to believe me."
"No, I'm pretty sure it was your fault. You ratted them out to the boss, Buccellati, their blood is on your hands." You didn't meet his eyes, too blue and too bright for the dark environment. The world was grey, the only light came from the man before you.
"That wasn't me. I didn't rat to the boss, you have to believe me." He stepped closer once more, extending a hand to you. You shrunk back into your large, waterproof coat.
"I didn't meet you to make friends, forgive me if I'm not inclined to believe you."
"I know you're upset, losing one team member is painful enough, I can't begin to imagine how it feels to lose your whole team. You were all very close, I understand that."
You looked to the floor, to the cigarette butt you dropped just moments ago. Your hand reached to pull another from your pocket, "You're a dead man Buccellati, I don't know when, but one day someone's going to give you what you deserve."
"How about you join my team?" He ignored what you had said, still smiling at you from under his umbrella. He looked almost angelic in the small amount of light, the rain reflecting his navy blue hair and crisp white suit. You scoffed at him,
"No thanks, I never even want to see you again, let alone work with you." You brushed past him in order to leave the alley, bumping your shoulder against his as forcefully as you could. You heard his stand manifest but quickly vanish. Buccellati wasn't going to fight you, instead he let you leave the alley and wander off into the night, a fresh cigarette on your lips.
Oh yes, Buccellati hated you alright. For all those years you believed he had told the boss about your team, who had secretly been trying to discover his identity without you. He hadn't, of course, but you never believed him. After your last meeting all those years ago, his disliking of you had grown, especially as he heard of your growing success throughout Passione. It didn't seem like much, the idea that he had snitched when he had not, but Bruno hated that you hated him. You were the one person he couldn't convince to join him, you were too stubborn and rude and he hated that you got away with believing whatever you wanted, even if it wasn't true. It wasn't fair, how you got away with so much disrespect, while he and his team treaded on eggshells at all times. People like Bruno, but that was because he knew how to hold his tongue, you were too brutish and bullish- somebody should have sorted you out long ago but nobody did.
Bruno sighed, flicking through resume after resume. After being promoted to Capo, he had learned the hard way that it wasn't as fun and exciting as everyone thought it to be. There was always something to sort out, to fix for somebody else. There was report after report, files to go through, information to delete, police to bribe, people to get rid of. Not all of that came down to Bruno directly, but it seemed he did have to do all of the paperwork himself. How Polpo did it all that time, he had no idea. On top of that, there was always some kid trying to join, thinking it was some luxurious gangsta life like it was in the films. Bruno sighed again, slamming the last resume onto his desk and rubbing his eyes.
He needed a secretary, but you cant hire just anyone to do paperwork for the mafia. It would have to be an existing member of the famiglia, but even then- who? Nobody Bruno knew would work- Giorno was out of the question, Abbachio would never agree to it, Narancia (bless him) would be useless as would Mista. He rested his head in his hands and tried to think, surely the other Capos would know somebody? He reached for the phone on his desk and made a call, waiting for a moment until the other person answered,
"Buccellati? What is it?"
"I was wondering, have you ever had a secretary? Somebody to do your paperwork?"
The person on the other end chuckled, "Too much for you, eh? Don't worry, I was the same at first. There was this girl, she worked for me for a bit-"
"Really? Who?"
"Hey, slow your roll, Buccellati. See, this girl, I had to let her go in the end. She was a great secretary, but her personality- she was like some sort of walking thunderstorm. So gloomy and rude, all the time. She was a good worker, but I don't think you'd be able to put up with her for long."
"Oh, I see, thank you anyway-" Bruno almost put the phone down, but then he caught sight of the mountain of paperwork on his desk, and put the phone back to his ear, "You know what? Give me her number, I'm sure it'll work out."