Page 60 of He is Poison

“You can’t have anywhile we’re training.” Domenico moved along the street, driving past a colorfulkindergarten building, with a yard full of carefree children. “And if I wereyou, I would ditch alcohol altogether. It clouds your judgment.”

Seth frowned, unsure ifit was a dig at yesterday, or an actual piece of advice. “Huh? How come? It’snormal to have a glass now and then.”

“Not when you’re theresident bull’s-eye.” Domenico let out a tired sigh. “It’s much better not toslow down our reflexes.”

Seth leaned back in hisseat. “I’m a bit hungover. I actually think I’d be better off if I did drinksomething. Don’t they sell beer in McDonald’s in Germany?”

Domenico looked at himwith a deep frown. “Never seen it. Maybe it’s only for Oktoberfest, orsomething? But no, you can’t have any.”

Seth let out a painedgroan. “Have your shitty coffee then.”

“Caffeine’s caffeine. Ididn’t get much sleep last night either.”

Seth pulled his lipsinto his mouth and shut up.It didn’t happen.

“I would kill for anespresso. Double.”

“Is there anythingnon-Italian that you like?” Seth rolled his eyes, happy to be off the subjectof yesterday. Food was always a good, inclusive topic. Even with a mafia hitman.

“Belgian chocolate. Madein Belgium,” replied Domenico, leaning forward to see the streetlights ahead.

“No Snickers or Hersheysfor you?” Seth snorted.

Domenico frowned,looking at the street from behind his shades. “I like maple syrup.”

“Domenico Acerbi,Pancake King.” Seth put on his sunglasses.

“Of course. Every time Ilook at those thick pancakes on your chest, I think about bathing them in maplesyrup.”

Seth blinked. Did Domjust joke? “That your thing? But I supposed only in Canadian syrup? Only thebest quality for the Pancake King?”

“Only the Pancake Kingfor the Bottom King.”

Seth slapped Domenico’sarm, holding back from a punch only because Dom had his hands on the steeringwheel. “Shut your pancake face!”

“You were the one whostarted this, so you shut up,” groaned Domenico, taking a sharp turn with thecar.

Seth closed his seatbelt and grumbled. “Sure, I can do that.”

Domenico didn’t. “Noneof those foreign restaurants can be trusted. The last time I ate in one thatwas neither Italian nor French, it ended in disaster.”

Seth wasn’t physicallycapable of biting his tongue. “Yeah? What could possibly happen? Who forced youto go?”

“I was meeting a clientin a fucking sushi bar.” Domenico’s face fell as if there were stormy cloudsgathering around his head.

“Oh, I don’t likesushi.” Seth scowled at the memory of Peter taking him out to a fancy sushiplace.

“Modern shit. I can’tpossibly think people can like something so tasteless,” grumbled Domenico.

“Spanish food can begood.”

“The guy who took me tothe sushi place said the same thing.”

“I suppose you justcan’t trust people, can you?” Seth said, looking out the window as theyapproached the window.

“No. People are alwaysout to get you,” said Dom just before opening the window to speak into themicrophone.

“Yep, especially ifyou’re Seth Villani,” Seth said right after Dom closed the window.