"And at last I see the light—" The small woman sang at the top of her lungs. "And it's like the fog has lifted!"

　　There was a knock at the door. She paused the movie, looking down at her attire.

　　Oh well. It wasn't really important anyway. Opening the door she came face to chest with a very tall man with dark hair, and dark ridiculing eyes.

　　"Can you quiet down," he asked lowly, his accent bathing his words in charm.

　　She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. Who are you?"

　　His lip twitched up, as he placed a long, Glover finger against the wood of the door, forcing it open a bit.

　　How tall was he?

　　"I live next door. You are incredibly loud," He noted

　　She swallowed. He was a giant ball of intimidating.

　　But she was not deterred. Too much.

　　"I'm sorry. I've lived here for two years and I've never seen you."

　　He stared down at her. "I moved in. The lady who lived here moved out. You understand this much, no?"

　　She swallowed. "When did you move in?"

　　The man said nothing for a beat before bending down to her face. "Let me make something clear: I am not your neighbor. We are not friends. Do not ask me anything. Mind your own business and keep the noise down."

　　She frowned. "You can't tell me what to do," She insisted. "Who are you anyway?"

　　He stood to his full height, sighing. "I am very private man. Very busy man. So you," He raises a gloved finger to her lips. "Shhhhh. Okay, topolina?"

　　She nodded slowly, breathlessly.

　　He smiled smally. Eyeing her. How cute she was. How obedient. She shouldn't be much trouble.

　　"Good girl. I will go to my apartment now. What did we agree you would do?"

　　She frowned thoughtfully. "Shhhh?"

　　He smiled. "Then I take my leave."

　　She watched him leave, scurrying to her phone.

　　"There's a mafia man who just moved

　　in next door," she whispered hurriedly. "Yes he's hot, but I think he might kill me."

　　The man, who was on the other side of the door still, heard all of this. He frowned, but determined she only thought that because he was a native Italian.

　　He went to his apartment, not the least concerned about the small brown woman with short shorts and thick thighs who lived beside him. He had work to do. He didn't come to America to eat fake food, after all.

　　He came to do a job. And he was gonna do it.