He barely flinches when Sizhui starts to dab the blood away from his face. There would be no noticeable marks that Sizhui could see right away. He's thorough. Vincenzo could give his bride that. He watches as the mouth opens and closes, then as Sizhui contemplates his offer.

He huffs a soft sound of amusement. Vincenzo pulls at his tie, letting the silk loosen and slither out from his collar. He reaches up and unbuttons the buttons of his shirt. His hands have blood and gunfire residue, his body has a few bruises, but nothing worrisome. He watches Sizhui's expression.

"I am not a kind man, Sizhui," he says quietly. "I am the head of a Mafia family that makes Italy tremble."