'You're Richele?' Someone taps something ice-cold and unyielding against his head. Richele knows what it is. A gun. A Sankta's gun. Richele remembers—the old man at church had a gun too. He treasured his gun like nothing else, wouldn't bring it out just for anything, but one time he let Richele touch it, because he was the same as him, a Sankta. 'Young man, you should have a gun too.' The old man looked into his eyes, seeming to mean something by it, though Richele wasn't quite able to tell what. Should he have a gun? It wasn't something he'd ever thought about. He'd always been pretty much like the other kids on his street. They whiled away the time wandering about the city, scuffling every which where, doing odd jobs for the famiglie, fighting over the right to play at some machine in the arcade and calling it a 'turf war'... If that described him, should he have a gun? 'Young man, what are you getting distracted for right now?' The Sankta before him gives him a light few nudges with the gun. 'Aren't you scared? Aren't you worried I'll pull the trigger?' 'You're not going to, Mister. Because... um, I heard, we can't hurt our own people? Isn't that how it works?' But this was just sophistry. Thou mayst not harm thy kin. That's what the old man at church said, and he thinks that's what he meant. He has some recollection of it, but he's never paid it much mind. Richele carefully scrutinizes the Sankta before him. Travel-worn, but with clothes all neat and tidy, and looking in good health. Are he and this person kin? It's hard to say. 'You're not wrong. We can't point guns at our own people.' Says the Sankta. But. There's always a but— '*clack*.' The sound of pulling a trigger. Richele holds his breath in that instant, and fiercely throws himself to the side. He feels no despair at this turn of events, he simply hopes he can avoid the fatal shot, and— '...Whuh?' He feels a faint sting on his forehead. Something falls, sweeping past the bridge of his nose, and Richele grabs it. It's a piece of candy. 'And that's to say, nice to meet you.' The Sankta grins, no longer tensed up like before. He gives the prank item that spat out the candy a spin around his finger, then hands it to Richele. 'We know you from the head of the chapel. He asked if we could pick you up on our way back.' He shoots Richele a wink, and says: 'What do you think, Richele? You want to get out of here... come with us, and live back in Laterano?'