Luigi fiddles with the silver paper clip on his desk while sipping onto his glass of Maraschino Caffo Liqueur.
A knock sounds on his door and he presses the buzzer underneath his desk.
"Hey, brother," he looks up as Davide approaches him then continues fiddling with the paper clip, a sad look on his face.
"What are you doing?" Davide's eyebrows raise. Seeing this image of Luigi is beyond confusing for him. It's not an image he's seen much of. The brooding and absent-minded tycoon sat in his luxurious chair. It is mind-boggling. Usually, he was more of a person that was present at the moment, more of an active presence that he carried with him.
"Just thinking," he says, his voice lowered while he continues fiddling with the paper clip, "Remember how Dad used to take us fishing and we didn't have anything to hook the fish with?"
