08-29-2018, 02:10 AM
Laurentius la Mauro Boselli. That was his name, though on most occasions, everyone just called him Larry. Living among the streets of Florence was how he initially earned his keep, but what more could be said about such a charming male who had finally made the grand ambition to arrive forth somewhere more opportune as America? Starting with appearances, he had a natural sun-kissed set of olive skin that the tanning-obsessed would kill for. That in itself made him quite the looker, not comparing to the face that he made ruggedly and clean-shaven a handsome feat all the same. He prided himself in being masculine however, his black hair worn in nothing more than a low shaven look with a thick but lined set of scruff to match. That also meant he did not exactly pride himself in being obese as he did seek to find a suitor among this superficial based country. As a result, his upper body was partially buff, his waistline lean and his gluten, thighs and on down making sure his body was not the phrase “A Body Made Wrong.”
He was by no means the tallest guy among the room however. He stood at a modest five foot seven. Let him tell it, Americans had all their roided out food to thank for such a gift, but he was not complaining. He liked to think of himself as fun size and working for the Ancelotti Family came with its perks. It allowed him to learn English moderately well, though the slight accent was a keeper. He was able to afford living there, even. One might think that he was one of the most valued, but that was a lie. He was a bit less than that of a foot soldier. Trust, Larry hardly knew his way around a pistol, though he was expected to wear one at all times. He just had better skills at something else, that of which garnered the attention of one of the family heads enough to bring him overseas. In this case, if it were not tending the garden and vineyard with attentive detail, it was either cooking or serving. Tonight, he was serving.
The Ancelotti Family had style. They made the simple white dress shirt, black slacks and shoes and even the black tie or bow tie to match look sophisticated. Even the watches they wore were quite luxurious and naturally signified them as part of the family. The tattoo he wore, what most might equate to nothing more than just a simple set of three rings around his left arm close to his elbow, was a family association. His sleeves being rolled up was to ensure no mistakes were to be made. Larry had a tray in hand, smiling every once in a while when the family members he served exchanged glances.
He never wanted to be just a servant. To be honest, he wanted a bit more. He was not asking to be king of the proverbial castle, but to at least be perceived more than just a man who knew his way around a meal and ensured the best wine had be more worthwhile.
There he was now, serving Romeo and his biological family. Larry minded his manners, only speaking when spoken to and naturally, telling them to “Enjoy,” when serving them wine and entrées.
He was by no means the tallest guy among the room however. He stood at a modest five foot seven. Let him tell it, Americans had all their roided out food to thank for such a gift, but he was not complaining. He liked to think of himself as fun size and working for the Ancelotti Family came with its perks. It allowed him to learn English moderately well, though the slight accent was a keeper. He was able to afford living there, even. One might think that he was one of the most valued, but that was a lie. He was a bit less than that of a foot soldier. Trust, Larry hardly knew his way around a pistol, though he was expected to wear one at all times. He just had better skills at something else, that of which garnered the attention of one of the family heads enough to bring him overseas. In this case, if it were not tending the garden and vineyard with attentive detail, it was either cooking or serving. Tonight, he was serving.
The Ancelotti Family had style. They made the simple white dress shirt, black slacks and shoes and even the black tie or bow tie to match look sophisticated. Even the watches they wore were quite luxurious and naturally signified them as part of the family. The tattoo he wore, what most might equate to nothing more than just a simple set of three rings around his left arm close to his elbow, was a family association. His sleeves being rolled up was to ensure no mistakes were to be made. Larry had a tray in hand, smiling every once in a while when the family members he served exchanged glances.
He never wanted to be just a servant. To be honest, he wanted a bit more. He was not asking to be king of the proverbial castle, but to at least be perceived more than just a man who knew his way around a meal and ensured the best wine had be more worthwhile.
There he was now, serving Romeo and his biological family. Larry minded his manners, only speaking when spoken to and naturally, telling them to “Enjoy,” when serving them wine and entrées.