He smiled again, and then looked around the table. His tone of voice is almost pleasant, but the words themselves were far from it. "Imagine my surprise," he began, "to learn that the Families in this city do not respect even the most basic rules of hospitality. We have always been on the best of terms with your operatives, both allied and neutral."

"What business is it of yours?" One of the heads retorted. "We conduct our business our own way, and you foreign-types have no right to-"

Reborn continued as if he hadn't heard. "To drag a completely uninvolved Family into your petty little sandbox power play is not the bending of some obscure protocol to your own ends, but a violation of the most basic courtesy afforded to your fellows. Murdering two visiting operatives in cold blood while in the midst of an approved and beneficial enterprise is more than criminal," his mouth twisted sardonically on the last word, "it's bad manners."

No one spoke up, though quite a few looked quite murderous.

"Luckily," Reborn said, voice soft, but perfectly distinct, "we managed to not get ourselves killed, which means you can make amends."