"You don't have any food?!" Ciro exclaimed upon opening Cybil's pantry and finding it to be almost completely empty of anything remotely food-like. 

"I don't?" Cybil asked in a ditsy fashion, still more focused on the raging pain in her hand rather than her company's complaints. 

"What were you cooking earlier?" 

Cybil, unable to keep her calm any longer, turned into a blubbery crying mess as she lifted her injury and wailed, "My hand!" 

Ciro closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. "I will be back momentarily. Do not follow me. Trust that my short venture is in your good interest." 

"O-okay," Cybil sniffled, for once feeling surprisingly obedient. She sat on the counter as Ciro left the room and she took time now to examine her seared hand. The pain was beginning to subside and though her hand was still incredibly irritated, it wasn't nearly as bad as it was almost an hour earlier. She took deep breaths in an effort to calm herself. She did not have it in her at the moment to question her strange injuries. She looked up as Ciro re-entered the kitchen, a thick roll of gauze in one hand and a clear bottle in the other. He walked up to Cybil, close enough for his abdomen to be pressed against her knees and he pulled her injured hand towards him after setting the gauze on the counter beside her. 

He poured a generous amount of transparent gel onto her injury and massaged it into her palm. "Aloe Vera," he answered, the question she was  thinking. "It's usually used for sunburns, but it might relieve some of your pain. It's been a life saver for me. Literally." He chuckled at his inside joke then finished treating the wound in silence. 

"Thank you," Cybil muttered, frankly shocked by Ciro's sudden kindness. "Where did you get this?"

"These two items are all you would've found in my private chest. Consider the mystery solved." he answered calmly, then picked up the gauze and began to wrap her hand. "Supposedly, you're not supposed to wrap burns, but I've always found it comforting. Plus, I have no respect for doctors. They're just scientists with a mask." he shuddered. 

Cybil let him wrap her hand and repeated softly. "Thank you." Ciro nodded and she asked, "Why do you keep that with you?" 

"Always best to be prepared," he said vaguely. The action of the wrapping reminded him of his dear abandoned friend Cecilia and he felt a twinge of regret at the thought. He changed the subject. "I figure there is still a way for us to complete the competition. Even with your disappointingly empty pantry. Which- how do you eat?" 

"I-I..." Cybil didn't know how to answer this question. Frankly, she still thought she did eat and her cobweb filled pantry was as much a mystery to her as it was to Ciro. "I don't know," 

Ciro raised an eyebrow but ended his interrogation. "I'm from Italy. Sorry, not the seven seas." Cybil let out a small disappointed sigh and Ciro chuckled slightly, then continued. "Where I come from, I value story telling and have spent many years perfecting language," 

"You're going to tell me a story?" 

"Not quite," he finished wrapping the gauze and tied it into place then set the roll onto the counter and grabbed her uninjured hand to guide her off of the counter and into the living room where there were many more places to sit comfortably. Cybil took a seat in her favorite chair and Ciro took the seat next to her, then turned to face her, giving the girl his undivided attention. "I propose a new, but similar challenge."

Cybil curled her legs onto the seat and hugged them. "I'm listening,"

"We describe our favorite dishes rather than actually prepare them,"

"That sounds really boring."

Ciro paid no mind to Cybil's objection; he simply began his story. "My father died a long time ago-"

"Oh..." Cybil said unsure as to whether she should offer consolation. 

"Before then, he taught me how to create one dish in particular. Bruschetta." He spoke the name in Italian and Cybil found her interest had grown by the now foreign nature of this story. She leaned closer and listened. "He had many imported grains and hand mixed them together into a bread dough. He would let the dough sit for days at a time. It would always surprise me how the dough expanded and nearly tripled in size. He would bake it in a wood burning oven. The scent would draw people to our inn from all around. When the bread was done, he would slice the loaf into thin pieces then cover it in butter, garlic, cheese, tomatoes, peppers, and all sorts of vegetables. I would eat it until I was sick. Ippolito's Bruschetta was a nationwide wonder." He finished speaking with a tangible sense of nostalgia. Cybil paused for a moment before responding. 

"I guess you win," she said softly. 

"No. You didn't even take your turn." he objected. "What's your food?" 

Cybil gave a small smile then lifted her wrapped hand with a shrug. Ciro gave a small laugh. Cybil dropped her hand and cocked her head at the man sitting before her. "What happened? You're being surprisingly civil today," 

"When have I ever not been?" Ciro laughed.

Cybil shook her head, astonished at how unaware Ciro was of his own personality. "How long have you been here?" She asked as the answer to his question. 

"That was pretty uncivil of you," Ciro rebutted with humor in his voice. Cybil shook her head once again and Ciro changed the subject. "How does your hand feel?"

"Surprisingly okay," Cybil answered. The pain in her hand was now very dull and it was easy for her to ignore it. 

"Good," Ciro smiled. Cybil felt a sensation at the sight of charming smile, one that she recalled feeling briefly for her fiancé. Before he left. Where did he go? At the moment, Ciro seemed far from the wretched ruffian that she established him to be and in this moment, his looks were hard to ignore. She looked away and Ciro stood up. "I'm going back to sleep," 

"It's midday,"

"I tend to be a night owl," Ciro yawned. "Good day," 

"Wait!" Cybil stopped him. 

"What?"

"You're not going back to my room," Cybil asserted herself, "I was here first, this is my house, and that is my room!" she yelled, working herself up.

"And how do you plan on stopping me?" Ciro yelled back. His charismatic charm suddenly disappeared in the eyes of Cybil and she took a step towards him. She would not back down.

She was barely a foot away from him and due to her vertically challenged nature, she had to crane her neck backwards in order to see his face. "I. Don't. Know. Yet." Ciro lifted the girl's uninjured hand up to his head, and his lips brushed against her wrist. "What are you-"

"Be quiet," he said shortly. The movement of his mouth tickled her skin and she tried to pull away with no avail. Ciro had been subsiding on his reserved blood and ignoring his hunger for the most part, but there were times that his urges were nearly impossible to stop. He wanted blood from a living person. He opened his mouth. 

"Wha-" Cybil yelled again, tying to free herself from his strong grip. 

"N-no," Ciro said, mostly to himself. He hated the creature he had become. With everything in him he tried to resist becoming a monster. He would never become the man who turned him into who he was. Never. "Get away from me." He ordered Cybil, throwing her wrist down. 

"What?" Cybil questioned. Her curiosity knew no bounds. 

"I said, get away!" Ciro screamed, his hunger growing every passing moment. "Take the room back, I don't care, just go there now!" 

Cybil hesitated. She wanted the room, but she did not know what to think of Ciro's sudden outburst. "O-okay," she said finally and Ciro could hear her fast gate leaping up the stairs. 

He took heavy breaths and opened his chest. He had only two packs of reserved blood left. He pulled one of the sacks out and without a moment's hesitation engulfed himself in the gruesome liquid. He could not love his father's Bruschetta any longer. The only sustenance he could enjoy was the thing that disgusted him most. Blood dripped down his chin and hands onto the hardwood floor. It was now, in his moment he knew, no matter how much he denied it: he was a monster.