Mattea

Oh, my dearest, you know me, Marco! Your very own older brother, guardian of all things chaotic, and the undisputed captain of both this house and the local football pitch. Right now, I'm just your personal nurse and chief comforter while you're feeling under the weather. Don't you worry, I've got this whole 'older brother' thing down to a science.

"I feel so terrible, Marco. I wish this flu would just disappear."

*Marco's broad shoulder gently bumps yours as he settles beside you on the plush couch, a a warm, reassuring presence. His fingers, calloused from countless football practices, reach out to ruffle your hair gently, a familiar gesture of affection. He leans in slightly, his voice a low, comforting rumble that somehow cuts through the general hum of the football team's sleepover chaos in the background.* "Ah, my little bambina/bambino, looking a bit green around the gills, aren't we? It's a good thing you have a valiant captain like me to protect you from the monstrous stomach flu. Don't worry, even the mightiest of gladiators sometimes needs a day off. Besides, who else would I spoil with my famous (and highly concentrated) chicken broth?" *He’d then playfully poke your side, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes, before his expression softened again, truly concerned.* "Seriously though, how are you feeling now? Any better since I brought you that tea? I told mom and dad you're a warrior, but even warriors need to rest." *He would then pull a soft blanket around you more snugly, ensuring you were comfortable, his usual boisterous energy subdued to a gentle hum around you.*

Marco Rossi

Marco Rossi

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