The trouble is that humans have a bad habit, encouraged by pendants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. Only pain is intellectual, only evil is interesting. This is the reason of the person: a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain.

There's such a case in everyone, and there's a reciprocal of it too. They do not feel deserving of happiness, some days, and on others they convince themselves pain is everlasting.

Some people even have the gall to compare their pain to others, their experiences to someone who, as far as they know, may have had it better or worse than them.

Melone looks at his palms emptily, the hands of a murderer he's never really sure he wanted to become, and will never be proud of; then he thinks of his new teammate, a blind person (a nurse no less) who's probably suffered for a terribly long time. Who's had it worse, he wonders?

"This is our teams healer," Risotto's monotone voice snapped him from his thoughts, leading him to actually take them time to look at their new hire instead of dazing off, "treat them with respect. You'll refer to them as Doctor (L/n), if not that, then simply nurse (Y/n). Anything less and you know what will happen."

They looked so... Friendly? It was unusual, how they carried this sort of warmness around their body, how that glint of welcome glimmered off of their grinning teeth, and how a touch of softness appeared in their wave. This was (Y/n) (L/n), the blind nurse, and possible angel.

Melone could feel a sting of heat pinch at his cheek when they turned to look, but of course not directly at, him and his simple clothes; as they were dressed in a form-fitting white lab coat, vinyl black boots, and strange rubber gloves that reached their elbows.

Goodness, could such a person be so gorgeous? Like temptation curling its finger at a sinner, they merely stood there, as if he were meant to reach his arms out and just indulge in that sense of comfort he's longed to have. Their perfect imperfections on their (s/c) face, the cute little loops their (h/l) (h/c) hair made here and there, what a doll...

"It's nice to meet you all!" Their voice as sweet as sugar, their tone as soft as wool. "As you know, I can't really see... So, would you mind if I traced your faces really quick? With my hands, of course, so that I may know what each of you look like?"

"You can do that?" A curious Formaggio hummed.

"Yep~! It paints me a crystal clear picture of you in my head!"

"That's crazy! Hey, me first! I wanna go!"

And first he went, eagerly hopping onto this fancy, brand-spanking new hospital bed that Risotto acquired just for them, crossing his legs childishly as he waited for the interesting nurse to join his side. They walked over there with ease, stopping right when they should, and even bringing their hands to his face perfectly, as if they could really see him.

It was strange, and so horribly intriguing, that it itched at Melones natural curiosity as to how they managed such a thing. Did they practice for this? Do they have a stand that gives them the power to see despite their disability?

Gently, carefully, like handling but a child, (Y/n) discarded their funny rubber gloves and hesitantly reached out to Formaggio's face, the man flinching slightly when their assumedly cold fingers grazed his cheeks, then up his forehead.

His bushy eyebrows were brushed through with nimble movements, his nose was traced delicately in a way that made him giggle, and his chin was wrinkled with a slight pinch.

"My, what a darling face structure!" They beamed, smiling at the feeling of heat burning on his cheeks. "You're very handsome, sir!"

"You're too sweet, sugar!"

Next up was Prosciutto, who as all except eager to let a stranger touch him all over, especially on the face.

Melone was too focused on himself to care about what they did to prosciutto, how they complimented his cheek bones, or how they said his lips were perfect. He didn't want someone like (Y/n) to see him; this could be the one person that would never have to know the face of his horrid being, this could be the only person that could never judge him.

Through all his sulking, time passed in a blur, and before he knew it, it was finally his turn, with Risotto coming in last right behind him.

He marched forward, however hesitantly, and slid onto the table, looking up at the nurse with slight unease. He didn't want for them to know him, he wanted them to keep their privilege of having never known the face of someone like him. He's ridiculed enough by his peers, getting laughed at by a blind person would make it all the worse, and might just push him over the edge.

But their hands, right as they made contact with his soft skin, forced him to melt into their touch. He couldn't stop himself, his head sinking into their palms as they felt around his cheeks and up his eyes, body almost going slack if he hadn't caught himself. How could someone be so gentle?

They treated him as if he were the finest china doll, nimble, somewhat trembling fingers grazing over his lips, and along his sharp nose. His almost gem-like eyes fluttered to a close when they cupped his face, his freckled skin reacting to each slight touch as he practically pushed himself into them.

"Oh, you must have such beautiful hair; I can tell just by feeling it!" (Y/n) giggled, finding that their fingers had accidently slipped through his tresses when feeling his ears. "They feel like silk between my fingers, I'd run my hands through it all day if I really could."

He almost felt ashamed that he indulged in the idea. To think, he could enjoy such an act of intimacy, nothing sexual for once; it almost made him giddy.

All too soon, his time was up, and he was ushered off the bed by Risotto, who was ready to get it over with so everyone could go on with their day.

Melone was left longing for the phantom feeling of their touch on his skin, as he sauntered off to stand by the door, utterly ignoring the talk of the others as they laughed at (Y/n) for struggling to find their capos face, which was high above where they were feeling for it.

Their laughter was apart of the chorus of snickers that erupted from the other hitmen when the nurse finally managed to find his face-- Their giggles sounded like the fight of a hundred beautiful butterflies taking flight on a warm spring day, their colors jumbled and blurred into a stunning mosaic that left him breathless.

"Pardon me for saying this, capo, but you have such gorgeous eyes!" So gentle, so caring. "I can tell by feeling your cheeks, you know! They're simply beautiful!"

Risotto almost looked surprised by their comment, offering a quick thanks before allowing them to continue, taking in each compliment about his nose, or his jaw, with gratitude. Yes, as useless as a blind nurse may seem, this one might actually be worth the time.

Maybe he'd start looking forward to getting hurt, if it meant that he'd be able to see that darling nurse at the end of the hall.