Milos

He introduced himself as Milos. He looked quite dangerous in an odd kind of way, his light-gray eyes with the almost black rim around the iris were ice-cold, and remembered Gabe somehow of himself. He was satisfied with what he saw, good material, Matteo had sent him, at least one out of three. With him, he might be able to convince the tribal eldest about the importance getting back the Akandos magical powers. The two of them looked sullen at Gabe, and their nods were anything but friendly. One of them, Gabe didn’t know if it was Riccardo or Umberto and he also didn’t particularly care, because they both looked more or less alike, was spitting on the ground and lit a cigarette. Gabe was already expecting that Milos, who was undoubtedly in command of the unwilling, reluctant troop, would reproach him, but nothing of the sort happened. Gabe almost groaned, what was he supposed to do with these idiots? He took a deep breath; “yes, I am Gabriele Grande, and I would like to clarify something from the start because the energy of boredom and indignation coupled with incompetence lies in the air. Matteo promised me a first-class unit for the endeavor, which is of utmost importance for all Akandos. But if I look at you, sloppily dressed small-scale southern Italians with ridiculous beards who do not seem to have the slightest idea about what is going on not giving me the due respect to go to the tribal eldest, this mission is over for all of you. I'll do what has to be done by myself because I don't have any need for people like you. "His ice-cold stare fell on the two bearded guys; then his eyes drifted back to Milos, who was looking amused. “Matteo has already told me the essentials and believe me; you need us, you can’t do it alone. Don’t worry; I'm in charge of Riccardo and Umberto. They are my two combat dogs who may not have much in their head but believe me, they respond excellently on my command.” He spoke English, which irritated Gabe. On the other hand, perhaps the two bearded ones didn’t understand him this way. Milos hissed at the two in the southern Italian dialect, which sounded like an order. Instantly their attitude changed, and they stood still like two soldiers, who were waiting for their commander's order. Milos turned back to Gabe again; his light-gray eyes were cold as steel. “They don’t understand any English, and they can hardly count to three, but they do everything I ask them to. Is this enough for you?”