7.5 / 10 Comedyroma... Access

Arthur took a bite. The black pepper hit him like a physical blow. "It’s... aggressive," he managed to say.

As Enzo walked by, he slapped Arthur on the back—hard enough to rattle his teeth—and shouted something in a dialect that wasn't Italian so much as it was a series of rhythmic growls. Arthur didn't understand a word, but he found himself laughing. He looked at Clara, who was currently trying to use a piece of crusty bread to defend her wine glass from a moth. 7.5 / 10 ComedyRoma...

The romantic tension he’d been nurturing all day finally snapped, replaced by the hysterical realization that they were two exhausted tourists in a damp basement, eating pig fat and drinking vinegar. Arthur took a bite

Clara smiled, her first real smile since they’d landed at Fiumicino. "Good. I think I saw a Vespa parked outside with a 'For Rent' sign and a very loose-looking kickstand." aggressive," he managed to say

Arthur believed that three days in Rome could fix a decade of polite silence. He had planned everything: the sunset at Janiculum Hill, the private tour of the Pantheon, and a curated list of the city’s most pretentious wine bars. What he hadn’t planned on was Clara’s sudden, inexplicable obsession with finding the "authentic" Rome.

By 9:00 PM, they were lost. The GPS on Arthur’s phone had succumbed to the narrow, cobblestone labyrinths that seemed to shift whenever he looked away. They weren't at a five-star terrace; they were standing in front of a garage door guarded by a three-legged cat.

Expanding this into a with more focus on their backstory.