Domonic raised a single eyebrow at the scene in front of him. There were men. Men with guns. And Cesare obviously had good taste in henchmen. Where'd he even find that giant. His hands fell to his pockets, fingers clenched around the two knives he brought with him. He struggled to try on another accent. B-movie German wasn't the most convincing, but it hid the voice of Ibor well enough. If the trap was already set, he would have to convince them they had the wrong guy.

"A-are you men Vivaio und Sons? I vas comingk to see if I could set up appointment sometime. My mozzer is in Hospice."