[Leashed dogs, the both of them, in ways that are only slightly divergent. The Handler-- he's less here to ensure Giovanni doesn't slip the leash - much like Fenris, where would he go? He's always belonged to the Company, there's nothing else for him to run to - and more to keep him reigned in should the heat of the moment overtake him, bloodlust turning from something focused to the more general, attacking anyone who comes close. No matter that Giovanni's track record is impeccable-- it happens sometimes, with the Cerberus Unit, animalistic impulses overriding their conditioned obedience.

For now, at least, he's settled enough with the feel of breaking bones still singing through his insides, and he watches as the other man taps his glass, makes it clear what gets him through the day. Giovanni shrugs, smiles wryly.]

Good for you, I suppose. But that stuff is meaningless to me-- I could drink anyone in here under the table and still feel nothing. In that respect, if you're so inclined, you could say my modifications have their disadvantages.

[Immunity to all poisons and pathogens mean that alcohol can't touch him, he may as well be consuming water for all it'd do to him.]

But one can't miss what one doesn't know. The eradication of unsavoury elements on the other hand...now there's something to get one's teeth into.

[And again, he laughs.]