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Summary
As he opens the door, he can’t say he expects to find the son of said arch-enemy standing outside his door, soaking wet.
“What the fuck.”
The man- kid startles at his words, his wide eyes growing impossibly wider at Wilbur’s appearance. The kid shuffles, opening his mouth to speak before deciding against it and instead shutting his lips into a thin line. He’s small, tiny, even. The suit he wears- plain black and white- is drenched and clinging greedily to his form.
Wilbur does the same, though his eyes harden into a glare after. “Why are you here?” He snaps, taking a step forward to easily tower over the kid, who flinches at Wilbur’s words.
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Or, I write mafia au because i'm bored and writer's block is funky.