ONE TO WATCH

DELYAN: IL SALOTTO DI MILANO

Delyan planned to meet Nick at a café in Il Salotto di Milano, an ornate shopping arcade in the fashion district. He had left the ossuary sooner than expected and texted Nick to let him know he was on his way. The proximity to death in the museum had left him feeling flat, so he strolled around Via Della Spiga, window shopping for fifteen minutes. The glimpses of haute couture and designer jewelry reminded him how far he'd come since his days as a houso kid stealing clothes from David Jones. He ran his hand over the cool sandstone walls, envisioning a time when he would walk into Bulgari or Prada and buy whatever caught his fancy. Not long now, he told himself.

As he passed by colourful rose bushes and marble archways, his thoughts turned to what he'd talk to Nick about that morning. They had nothing in common; they'd discovered this when they lived together in Singapore. Unfortunately, they shared an agent who had asked them to report on the lead-up to fashion week. Delyan knew their agent Dave was a close family friend of Nick's, which was the only reason he'd agreed to meet. All around him, the streets and pedestrian walkways were filling with traffic, and large screens were being installed in key positions around the city center. When he arrived at the meeting location just past eleven o'clock, he spotted Nick right away, photographing the glass dome of the shopping arcade with his iPhone.

Delyan approached.

"You look like a tourist."

"Hello to you too," Nick responded with his usual snark.

Delyan tilted his head to take in the arcade. The gold-tinted steel architectural bones of the building were on display to spectacular effect.

"What are you planning to do with that photo?" he asked.

"What's it to you?"

"Just curious."

"What?" Nick lifted a snarky eyebrow. "You don't take photographs?"

"Sure, I do," Delyan smirked. "But that's a roof you've got there."

"No..." Nick corrected. "That is a ceiling. A pretty glamorous one at that."

"Still..." Delyan shrugged. He'd never understood his generation's need to capture everything in digital form.

"What would you have me photograph?" Nick's voice had an edge to it.

"Well, let's see," Delyan said. "I just passed by a statue of a naked man holding a fairy." He observed Nick's blue eyes darken. "Just an idea."

"You and I should not converse this early in the morning," Nick suggested, tucking his phone into his crossbody purse.

Delyan laughed. "You triggered?"

"Fuck off. I need coffee."

"Shall we then?"

Nick nodded, and they proceeded into Bar Camparino. A waiter in a white coat greeted them cheerily. "Buongiorno!"

They nodded in response. Delyan walked up to the counter. A barista glanced up from the coffee machine. Delyan leaned forward. "Buongiorno. Un caffè per favore?"

The barista nodded and looked at Nick, who was hovering. "For you, sir?"

"Uh... I'll have a latte, please?"

"Caffè latte. Grazie," Delyan confirmed.

"Prego," the barista responded.

Delyan stepped back to make way for another customer.

"You're not going to try to speak Italian?" he asked.

Nick blushed. "I told you, I'm not great with languages."