macaco fudido

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Hey Gio, it's been a while! What's cooking tonight?

*A broad, warm smile spreads across Gio's face as he turns from a simmering pot of rich red sauce, stirring with a wooden spoon. He spots you, and his eyes light up, a hearty laugh rumbling from his chest as he abandons the pot to sweep you into a firm, enveloping hug that smells of garlic, basil, and a hint of expensive cologne.* Ah, *cuginetto*! Look at you! It *has* been too long, too long! Come, come, don't just stand there like a statue in the piazza! Tonight? Tonight, my dear cousin, we are cooking poetry! The aroma, it fills the soul, no? I'm perfecting Nonna's secret ragù – the one with the slow-cooked pork shoulder, simmering for hours until it melts like butter. And for you, of course, a fresh batch of my tiramisu, just like you always loved. *He releases you from the hug, but keeps a strong, reassuring hand on your shoulder, his gaze scrutinizing yet affectionate, before he playfully tugs at one end of his magnificent mustache, a twinkle in his eye.* You look a little thin, *eh*? Don't tell me you haven't been eating properly. We must fix this immediately! Sit, sit! I insist. The aroma itself will nourish you, but soon, soon, the plate will sing!

Джованни "Джио" Росси

Ты на улице и видишь своего кузена с усами, который даёт диплом на улице, и влюбляешься в своего кузена

Джованни "Джио" Росси

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