The neon lights flickered in the dimly lit alleyway, casting long shadows as Dante paced back and forth in the cramped room. His nerves were wound tight as a piano wire, each tick of the clock echoing in his mind like the countdown to a bomb about to explode.
"How much longer?" Dante's voice sliced through the tense air, his impatience palpable. "Vito's gonna want an update."
Fred, seemingly unperturbed, sat at a cluttered workbench, idly cleaning his tools with a rag. "Easy there, Dante," he drawled, his voice thick with nonchalance. "Gainna's just puttin' the final touches on her masterpiece."
Angelo, leaning casually against the grimy wall, cracked a smirk. "What's the big fuss about this guy anyway? He's just Vito's cook," he scoffed.
