Playing Games

When Fabio walked into the warehouse, he had a black eye and a slight limp. He kept clutching his ribs as though he was in pain, and I could see the anger brewing in his eyes.

I was right. He was the weak link between all his siblings. He seemed very agitated, and I could tell he would’ve rather been anywhere else but near me. When he saw me, however, he tried to act like he was strong. His eyes went neutral like he didn’t want to reveal anything to me, but it was too late.

I was always very observant when people came to me in situations like this. If you didn’t watch someone closely from the moment they entered the door, you would miss a lot about what they were thinking.

“Fabio. I thought you were dead. I haven’t heard from you in a while.” I said. “I thought you changed your mind about being a part of the Russian mafia. In the beginning, you could’ve fooled me, that it was the only thing you were thinking about.”

That was a slight undertone of disbelief because I didn’t buy a word