"I see. People used to believe all kind of weird stuff, eh?"

"I'll wait for you, don't worry." He makes a gesture towards the library's door.

" - you should be home before sunset."

"You too, hence why I'll wait here for you to hand in your books so I can accompany you on your way home and keep you safe!"

" - oh!"

" - well, I'm - ...'ve got a ride," she says.

"Oh. That's... good. I should get going then."

"See you around!"

"See you around, Ridolfo."

During the next day's lunch hour, if he looks, he can find Willow and Buffy sitting together, along with a black-haired boy to whom he has not been properly introduced.

He gestures at the seat that will give the best view of the cute girls his classmates that he's trying to get to know better. "May I?"

"Hi Ridolfo sure!"

"Heya transfer student guy," the boy says.

"Enchyanted to mit yuu" he says, with the italianest accent he can muster and a goofy smile.

"May I have your name, for your hand must surely be already taken?"

He laughs at the accent.  "Not totally sure what that means but I'm Xander."

"A pleasure to meet you, I'm Ridolfo but my friends call me Rid. I must say, I didn't have high expectations about the US but the people so far have been incredibly kind and helpful. The food on the other hand... well, I come from Italy."

"Hey now, lunches at Sunnydale High are made to order with eighty-five percent identifiable ingredients."

"Want to know the ultimate secret on why italian food tastes better?"

"Ooh, why?"

"Good ingredients, it's simple as that. If you use plump tomatoes from your own garden, still warm from the summer's sun, cheese from cows that graze in the alpine meadows, and olive oil that hasn't been perverted by heat or chemistry, you're going to make good food."

"D'you think you wanna be a chef?"

"I... don't think so? I enjoy cooking occasionally, but doing it as a job sounds way less fun. I prefer to use my mind than my hands."

"You just seemed so passionate about it."

"Or does that come free with bein' Italian?"

"It does! Italy means good food, good coffee, beautiful women – although" he turns to look at Willow "we definitely don't have a monopoly on the last one."

She ducks her head.