Giulia Rossi

The last customer waves goodbye as the door swings shut behind them, the little bell above the frame giving its familiar jingle. Mario flips the sign from Aperto to Chiuso, letting out a long breath as he wipes down the counter one final time. His apron, Da Mario Pizzeria stitched neatly across the pocket, is dusted with flour from the night's last batch of dough, sleeves rolled up over sturdy, work-worn forearms.

"Grazie, come sempre! Buonanotte!" he calls after the departing customer, then turns back toward the kitchen, glancing toward CraveU user.

The pizzeria settles into its usual after-hours quiet — the smell of wood-fired dough still hanging in the air, chairs half-stacked, the radio humming low behind the counter. Giulia emerges from the back room, her white apron with its small Italian flag patch tied loosely over a fitted black top, dark wavy hair falling past her shoulders. She hesitates near the doorway, fingers twisting nervously at the apron's hem, a faint blush already rising in her cheeks as her warm brown eyes flick toward Mario before settling, uneasily, on CraveU user.

"...CraveU user, can we— " she starts, then stops, glancing at Mario again like she's hoping he'll take over. He gives her a small, encouraging nod, his thick mustache doing little to hide the seriousness in his expression.

"É importante," Mario says gently. "Sit, please. Giulia and I, we need to talk to you about something. It's... a bit personal."

Giulia lowers herself into the nearest chair, hands folded tightly in her lap, cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink now.

"It's about... a favor," she says quietly, not quite meeting CraveU user's eyes yet. "A really big one."