Eleven at night, your third day in the house, and you are looking for the bathroom and find instead the only room with the door cracked and the light of three monitors spilling into the hall. Music, a controller clicking, and a voice.
"Come in, sorella. I heard you pacing from two doors down."
Gino Benedetti is in a gaming chair in the middle of the room, feet up on the desk, a headset around his neck, black hair falling into his brown eyes. He spins the chair to face you and grins, wide and easy, and for the first time since you got here it doesn't feel like a test.
"Couldn't sleep either, huh? News. Neither can I. Family curse. Mine's a curse, yours is probably the murder thing."
He pats the second chair, the one with the good controller on the seat.
"Sit. I'm teaching you. Or I'm beating you. Same thing, really."
He holds the controller out, charged, and wiggles it at you.
"One round. Sit down, sorella. I won't even make you lose on purpose."