“Hey! Bobby! Hahaha! I got the dude speaking in tongues. He must be scared shitless!” The rather large, lumberous bloke hollered from his current position, a position that very much was a few feet away from the scrawny (in comparison. o.o) creature. Smirking a little was he, as he curled both hands into fists and hit them together just so. The sound of metal on flesh was all but obvious, his threat was utterly clear. He was by no means Italian, and by only little more means barely able to grasp an understanding of proper English, let alone Italian. But, that, my friends, did not phase him. In this world he did not need an education, he just needed smarts, particularly street smarts and he would be set for life. The ‘Mob’ in America was dead, but gangland was still around and different facs running around with clear stakes beneath he surveillance of the common police and citizens. Boss-man was, as spoken, not a nice fellow but he managed the cash well and knew better to get too greedy with such capable folk surrounding him. Discontent would be utmost trouble. Too much discontent, that is. “If you beg I just might let you go, pansy.” The brute said in his rather rough vocals. Smirking a little as eyes spoke a malevolent, violent nature, and his scared face told dearly of his unrelenting-ness in pounding someone to dust. The fact that who he pounded was someone younger and completely innocent of the situation, bothered him not. Heh, nawh, nawh ah awll. But… Azure on the other hand was not always so lowly. He was more an educated punk, whether one choose to believe so or not and was well versed in… languages and the like. He was an intellectual, sorta, er, not really. He only found that being a smartass worked when one was smart so… “Hey, guys, I love ya, really I do. Even when your trying to bust me up. Really. You might wanna leave the guy alone, maybe…” Truth be known he didn’t rightfully believe what he was hearing. The Italian was full of shit. After all, why would the son of a well known, powerful crook would wander the docks of America so far from his folks and so far from their influence and protection? It made no sense. It was utterly idiotic. The mobster had enemies as any mobster did, leaving one's kid alone in a foreign country was the perfect was to get him killed. Whether someone knew of the boy's status (which he found fake) or not.

Whatever he had said in defense of the opposing male was entirely foolish of him, he soon realized as he received a bat to the shin and found himself soon cursing like a sailor and showing true colors. What did he ever do to deserve this, huh? What? Well he soon found out the extent of his ‘inability to refuse temptation’ as he swung at the man, Bobby, with the bat. Knuckles already rather numb and raw went well about contacting flesh. He definitely broke a nose as blood went gushing and he was, heh, ‘happily’ tackled to the ground. It was only when Joe gave a holler that the tussle between three men halted. Truth be known he, Joe, had very much not expected to have a gun pulled on him today. But his face did not pail and he didn’t swoon at the sight of the metallic color. He wasn’t keen on having a pistol pulled on him by a kid. Matter of fact he saw it as an insult. The little whelp, Joe would break him into. And with that in mind The hulking man stepped forward with surprising speed, attempting to take DiSanto by the forearm, shove the arm with the gun out of his face then proceed, with the other hand, to wrap a rough, large hand around the punk’s neck and lift him off the ground. Joe was very angry. Joe was known for his temper. He had put many people in the hospital. Joe was not a nice man. But! He had to give it up. As everyone skittled on about the gun he was left be. And you know, the boy telling ‘leave him alone too’, you know, it stuck a chord. What a nice chap. Heh. Imagine. Guy with gun - nice chap. But oh well! What could he say? Nice men can be murderers too. Still, as the young'n threw him that look Azure did little more then shrug and offer a charming smirk. A 'whadcanyado?' expression truly befitting of his rather deviant features as he picked himself off the ground, brushed himself off and whiped the blood from his busted lip. Though, saddly, Bobby was knocked stone cold with little chance of waking up, and with that in mind, along with the fact there was only one gun and three 'hostile' men to deal with he quickly picked up the baseball bat. Placing it over his shoulder just so after a few pratice swings. Really did have a nice weight to it...