I'M SO SORRY, BUT THIS IS VITO AT THE BEGINNING OF THE GAME, WHEN HE TALKS ABOUT HIS LIFE

They are literally a TikTok trend: "okeokeoke and lalala" :)

(they are so cute, i can't)

Details that really make me sad.

I went through the game and noticed some irregularity in relation to Henry and his connection with the number "13". It's really unfortunate for him. In chapter 5, Henry said that it was his 13th contract (when they went out to kill the Fat Guy and Henry got shot) and he sensed that it would not end well. And chapter 13 of the game itself is where the Chinese killed Henry.

I would say that Henry is superstitious. Although for a man like Henry, such a trait is very unusual. :)

(And after reviewing chapter 13, I saw that Vito crossed himself when Joe turned the already dead Henry face up)

His eyes and facial profile are so beautiful

I can't stop laughing at the second photo.

Sarah: Have you guys seen a kitten? He ran into the restaurant from the street, all wet, I hid him in a box from Salieri. And now I look - there is no kitten. Tommy and Paulie, looking at each other: no, we haven't seen it. Sarah: Then why are you sitting there? Help me find it before the kitten goes to Frank or Salieri! After thirty minutes of searching, the kitten is on Trapani's lap. On the lap of a sleeping Trapani, who propped his head on his hand, while the kitten gathered itself into a ball from time to time, clung to the sleeping man's body and purred deafeningly loudly. Sarah, in a whisper: Well, now we know that Sam is loved not only by women, but also by cats.

CARLOS REMINDS ME OF A BIG CAT WHO TOOK UP ALL THE SPACE ON THE BED/SOFA WITH THE MOST SMART AND SATISFIED FACE

And this is how George sees him at this moment:

I can't stop thinking about how touch is one of their love languages.

no bc what the actual fuck was this

ATTENTION.

English is not my first language. There may be spelling errors.

AU in which Vito is a bodyguard for Henry.

If you like the idea, I will continue to release little notes about them.

"Sit down, we need to deal with your wounds," a voice from somewhere in the bathroom prompted him to move over and sit on the sofa, stretching out his legs and letting out a heavy, shoulder—squeezing sigh.

The blood on his hands had dried long ago, and the skin on his face was uncomfortably tight, reminding him of a new cut that ran from his forehead to his cheekbone through his eyebrow, mercilessly dissecting it. It's a familiar sensation, but it doesn't reduce the burning sensation.

When Henry appears in front of him with a first-aid kit in his hands, the younger one finds it funny how he looks: serious, still in his jacket, taking out pieces of gauze.

"It's just scratches," Scaletta objects, as the hands that recently released the cigarette reach for his bloody face.

"Let's consider this my return courtesy," Tomasino insisted, sitting down on the chair opposite, touching Vito's shoulder and urging him to lean towards him. But he listens, bends down, because he is used to it and will not be able to behave differently.

"You're another salvation for me, and I'll just treat your wounds." There is no need to sew anything up here.

"It's part of my job.

"Yes, I know. And I'm paying you money for it. But no one canceled the human attitude, even to his bodyguard."

Vito can only accept, nod and wait for the whole procedure to come to an end.

At one point, he allowed himself to trustingly close his eyes and enjoy the atmosphere, so quiet and calm, while Henry held his chin to better examine the wound and applied gauze soaked in water to his skin. Subsequently, he felt a patch appear on his skin. Henry's touch moves from his face to his hands. There is a weariness in both of them, too obvious, but consistent with what happened. After an assassination attempt and a shootout, both of them usually had no strength left.

Pressing his forehead against Henry's shoulder, Vito does not take his hands away, feeling bandages wrap around him, and other people's fingers touch his knuckles. It was a moment of weakness because they had agreed to be honest with each other. Scaletta vaguely remembers the last time he could just sit closer to someone.

"Shall we have something to drink?" Henry suggests, putting away everything that has been drunk.

"Just a little bit. I don't want to bury someone's corpse today," the smile comes out forced, but no less sincere.

Henry smiles at what he has said, knowing full well how his friends' drunken get-togethers end.

Belatedly releasing Vito's hands from his own, he slaps him on the shoulder again, as if this could give the younger at least some kind of surge of strength.

Who is this diva?

Henry: Vito...don't look at me with those eyes.

Vito, smiling: with what eyes, Henry?

Or briefly about how Vito noticed how his puppy-dog look affected Henry and now uses it more often.