The young man strode with unmitigated purpose as his footfalls echoed across the cobblestone. The city at night soothed him with its worn brick and jutting metal. Summer had not yet weighted the air with its wet; spring lingered like an overzealous puppy.
A foreign exclamation split the night air like a gunshot. A shrill banshee voice retorted. The young man bound toward the noise hell bent on restoring broken silence. The bantering grew louder until there came into view two young men standing toe to toe, screaming garishly at each other in what he assumed to be Italian.
He galloped into the fray and moved between them with a dramatic thrust of his torso. They stared at him, vexed.
‘Please, gentlemen, there is no need to argue. I’m sure this can be settled diplomatically.’
The taller of the gentleman smiled with his dark features and scruffy face. ‘But we no argue, signore. We just having a talk.’
The young man hastened away into the darkness confused about whether he had helped or hindered the vociferous Italians.
The Italians continued with their cacophony.
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