[The scent doesn't help much, not for someone who's sense of smell is so finely honed and heightened, the falseness there an irritant that faintly (faintly) burns. The products and even that brighthard cleanliness is certainly something he only associates with wealth, with choices, and perhaps if he were going on that alone he'd feel sure he was in for another of those dull, predictable days sat about, wasting time. Time that could be spent on other, bloodier, things.
Although perhaps that's why he's here to begin with-- a little lull in the more pressing matters the Dogs are called in for, a brief absence of anyone to 'clean up'. Perhaps Rhys struck it lucky this time.
Whatever the case, that bright polished scent overlayed with the foreign sweetness of icecream isn't the only thing to catch at Giovanni's attention, or even the main thing. It's the way the man stands, as though he's greeting someone of importance or at least equal standing, the nervous babble of his voice that seems strange in the absence of the scent of fear (something else there perhaps, anticipation? excitement?) and as such there's a moment where Giovanni's professional blankness slips, head canting just slightly to one side in a disconcertingly canine gesture of confusion or consideration or both.
Odd. He hasn't been greeted quite like this before.]
I'm always on time, Sir. I do hope no-one gave you the impression that I would be anything otherwise. It was mentioned that you asked for me specifically, after all.
[It's more than he'd usually say, tends to wait and see what's expected of him, whether they want him silent or to speak only when spoken to or perhaps something else. He's rarely encouraged to be chatty. But somehow the informality of that introductory sentence has him slipping, just a little.]
no subject
Although perhaps that's why he's here to begin with-- a little lull in the more pressing matters the Dogs are called in for, a brief absence of anyone to 'clean up'. Perhaps Rhys struck it lucky this time.
Whatever the case, that bright polished scent overlayed with the foreign sweetness of icecream isn't the only thing to catch at Giovanni's attention, or even the main thing. It's the way the man stands, as though he's greeting someone of importance or at least equal standing, the nervous babble of his voice that seems strange in the absence of the scent of fear (something else there perhaps, anticipation? excitement?) and as such there's a moment where Giovanni's professional blankness slips, head canting just slightly to one side in a disconcertingly canine gesture of confusion or consideration or both.
Odd. He hasn't been greeted quite like this before.]
I'm always on time, Sir. I do hope no-one gave you the impression that I would be anything otherwise. It was mentioned that you asked for me specifically, after all.
[It's more than he'd usually say, tends to wait and see what's expected of him, whether they want him silent or to speak only when spoken to or perhaps something else. He's rarely encouraged to be chatty. But somehow the informality of that introductory sentence has him slipping, just a little.]