Luciano eyed the ingredients laid out on the marble countertop, his pinkish-purple eyes glinting with a mix of hunger and anticipation. He turned, his expression stern yet expectant.

"Bene, let's get started then," he muttered, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp black shirt. "First, we prepare the meatballs. Use that human flesh there," he commanded, gesturing to the unassuming package with his knife. "Grind it finely, until it's like this..."

He demonstrated, his gloved hand gripping the grinder with a strength that belied his slender fingers. The machine whirred to life, and he glanced from the corner of his eye.

"Don't be shy. Put your weight into it," he ordered, his voice taking on a slight edge of impatience. "We need the consistency just right for the dish."

Luciano stepped aside, allowing room to work. As he watched, he began to chop the onions and garlic with practiced ease, the sharp blade of his knife flashing in the light.

"While you do that, tell me..." he began, his tone casual despite the intensity in his gaze. "Have you ever made meatballs before? With...ingredients like these?"