The drive continued in tense and uneasy silence. Or, at least it felt that way to Dio and most likely Mista, who was still shooting him hostile looks via the rearview every few minutes. Giorno, however, appeared to be completely unbothered. He tapped out the rhythm to the radio on the steering wheel as he drove.

They came upon a cluster of fast-food restaurants at the northern outskirts of Miami and he looked them over thoughtfully. "It might not be very good coffee, but it will be good enough," he said as he pulled into the parking lot.

"Only a dollar a cup at this one," Mista said as he peered at a promotional sign. "Not bad."

Giorno turned in his seat and held out his hand towards Dio. "The turtle, please."

Dio stared at him with his arms crossed for a few long moments. He finally picked up the turtle and handed it to Giorno.

"Thank you," he said lightly as he pressed the combination into the keypad. The metal lid slid off and he peered down at the gem.

Within the gem's room, Ungalo went wide-eyed and pointed at the ceiling. "Holy shit, Giorno's a giant."

"We're stopping for coffee," Giorno said at the gem. "Do any of you want anything?"

"Black with one sugar," Hol replied without moving from where he was lying face-down on the couch.

"Be sure to enjoy yours for me," Polnareff said.

"Does this place do mocha?" Rikiel asked. "I'll take that if they have it."

Ungalo nodded enthusiastically. "Same for me."

"They do," Giorno answered. "Three mochas and one black coffee with one sugar, then." He glanced over at Mista as the metal slid back over the gem. "Do you know what you want?"

"Not yet. I'll go in with you and help carry everything out, though," Mista replied. "Plus, Sex Pistols are gonna want to see the whole menu."

Giorno nodded and then glanced back at Dio. "I think it would be best for you to stay in the car. It's generally frowned upon to go into one of these while covered in blood. Save that sort of behavior for the drive-through."

When Giorno opened the door and began to leave Dio raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to ask me if I want anything?"

Mista snorted, got out of the car, and slammed his door shut. Giorno pursed his lips and looked back at Dio thoughtfully. "No," he finally said. He shut the car door and Dio heard the electronic chirp of the lock.

Once within the relative privacy of the coffeeshop, Giorno took a deep breath and Mista clapped a supportive hand onto his shoulder. "I suppose I need to read this," Giorno said as he pulled out his phone. "A couple of emails came in from Fugo, too. We should call him soon."

"Yeah." Mista's expression grew more serious. "You good?"

"From suffering grows strength, I chose your mother correctly, and you're just like me, but don't you dare think we're anything alike," Giorno quoted flatly as he tapped in his passcode. "What a convoluted way of telling me he had a difficult childhood."

Mista was incredulous. "That's what you think he was saying?"

Giorno gave an atonal hm in response. "It would take far too much energy to unpack that whole conversation right now. There's not enough coffee in the world." He opened the email and scrolled, his expression blank. "Well. I'm not exactly surprised, but…I suppose that does explain the fanny pack." He sighed, turned off the phone, and slipped it back into his pocket. "It's interesting. Nothing has really changed, and we can approach this encounter with Pucci the same way as we had been preparing to, and yet…"

"Do we tell your brothers?" Mista asked.

"It sounds cruel, but I think it would be better not to," Giorno answered. "If we are to do this trade with Pucci and then betray him it will need to seem genuine."

"I think I'm more worried about what Dio said about your Stand," Mista stated. "If Pucci can take and read Stand discs, that's one thing we can clearly avoid. But since he can take out memory discs, as well…"

Giorno nodded. "I don't think that Hol, Rikiel, or Ungalo suspect anything. If he manages to read their memories then I am still safe. You, however, would be dangerous."

Mista sighed and slumped forward. "Hell, would I? I barely even know how it works."

"It would be enough to cause suspicion. If he believes I am a threat, there will be no way for me to get close enough to him to strike first." He frowned thoughtfully. "The same goes for Dio. He doesn't know and yet he does know all at once."

"Speaking of your brothers, do you think that they'll hold up in a fight?" Mista asked. "They've got some spirit, sure. But Ungalo's Stand isn't suited for quick, close-quarters combat at all and Rikiel's Stand is currently being digested by that box."

"I am concerned about that, yes," Giorno answered. "But if I told them now that they couldn't help, that would only make them more determined to do so."

"Especially after that last pep talk," Mista begrudgingly admitted. "Gonna be honest, I was kind of expecting them to coward out. You're too damn good at convincing people to do things."

"And that's exactly what I'm worried about," Giorno said, and sadness darkened his expression. "I've found that no matter how much a person may be opposed to your plans, as long as you tell them that you hear them and that you understand their concerns, they will almost always end up following you." He leaned back against the wall and peered up at the brightly-colored backlit menus. "When it comes to making a group follow your instructions, it doesn't matter if they agree with you or not. You just have to make them feel as if they have been heard."

"Should I be taking notes, boss?" Mista asked jokingly, but Giorno shook his head.

"I've been making them feel heard," Giorno said quietly, "but I don't know if I've actually been listening to them."

Mista stood silently beside him for a few moments before speaking. "You're worried that you acted like him."

"Perceptive as ever, Mista," he replied with a smile. "People usually don't say no to me. I doubt Dio hears the word very often, either. And when he does, I suppose he just finds a way around it."

Mista frowned. "I don't think you should be too worried. They know exactly what they're getting into and you have their best interests at heart."

"I know that I want to keep them safe. But there's that pragmatic part of me that knows that I will want to save my own skin. And beyond that, I know that if it came down to saving myself or saving them…" He sighed, shrugged, and then walked forward to get in line. He looked back at Mista and grinned. "I would find a third option."

"That's why if anyone actually has a chance to actually stop this guy, it's you," Mista replied. "We have to avoid what you saw back then at all costs, and I know what being a part of the family means. If the cost includes me, so be it."

Giorno gave him a wan smile. "While I appreciate that, let's not jump to such extremes just yet." He laughed and pointed up at the menu. "You still need to decide on your coffee."


They made it to Vero Beach around 10 PM. Giorno pulled the van into the hospital parking lot and looked up at the building thoughtfully. "It's late. Visiting hours will be over and the entrances will have security. We aren't very familiar with the building, so sneaking in will be risky."

"I kind of know my way around here, but…" Rikiel shrugged and shook his head. "I don't think I know it well enough to give any advice on getting in. Sorry."

"What if we fake an injury and go in through the ER?" Ungalo asked.

"We're kind of a big group," Rikiel replied. "I think we'd need multiple fake injuries."

"Wouldn't a bunch of doctors be able to recognize fake injuries?" Hol scratched his forehead in thought. "Not that I'm trying to say we should do real injuries."

Dio sighed. "I can just stop time and carry everyone in."

Everyone except for Giorno gave him a dubious look. "I suppose," Giorno replied.

"Does anyone else have a better idea?" Dio asked, his tone acidic, but as he continued he forced his voice to grow calm. "I will be honest with you all. I understand that I have not made the best first impression. But we need to work together whether you like it or not. Right now, my Stand is our most powerful advantage," he said without paying too much undue attention to Giorno. "Let's use it wisely instead of clinging to anger and overcomplicating things."

Hol was silent but he gave Dio a glare that clearly said that's fuckin' rich coming from you. Ungalo frowned and crossed his arms. Rikiel looked out the window and drew his knees close to his chest. To Dio's surprise, Mista nodded in agreement. "We have to be pragmatic," he said, and even Sex Pistols looked a bit stoic as he spoke. "Stealth is the priority right now. If Pucci has other Stand users with him, we don't want to alert them. If we can just skip our way in with the stopped time, then we should do that."


Hol managed to haul around a frozen Mista in the stopped time; Dio manifested The World and had it carry Giorno, Rikiel, and Ungalo past security. He felt an uneasy strain as he held time until they just barely made it into an elevator.

"Wing D, fourth floor, room four," Mista said with a frown as time began again and the elevator doors slid shut. "We've got the wing and the floor down. Now we need to find the room."

The doors opened and they ventured out onto the fourth floor. There was a nurse's station close to the elevator; Dio stopped time and the group was advanced around the corner and out of sight.

Time began again. Mista approached the nearest room and pulled at the numbered label beside the door. It didn't budge. "It doesn't seem like he could have switched the room numbers. It should be easy enough to find."

"A little too easy," Hol muttered. Mista nodded in agreement.

"I don't know why, but, um, it's like I can tell he's here," Rikiel mumbled.

Dio gave him a severe look. He could feel the same pull, but it was sharp yet vague all at once. "Who? Donatello or Pucci?"

"...Both?" He winced away and crossed his arms tightly. "I don't know."

"Me too," Ungalo added. He pointed towards the far end of the hall. "Down that way." He glanced back and his eyes went wide. "Giorno?"

"...I can feel the same thing," he said slowly, and his face was pale.

Mista nodded decisively and led in the front. Rikiel and Ungalo followed with Giorno close behind. Dio and Hol took the rear. They approached Donatello's room and-

The door swung open and a nurse came out while coughing and waving a hand in front of her face. Fog billowed out behind her. "I can't believe they didn't fix the valve on the nebulizer," she complained. "I put that request in weeks ago. We're going to get hit with a lawsuit if they don't sort this out."

The group froze and stared at her in confusion. Hol rallied and doffed his hat. "Ma'am. We were just about to visit our good friend Donatello in there. We can help air the place out if you'd like."

"Good friend?" the nurse asked as she raised her eyebrows. "This patient can be visited by family members only. And it's rather late, isn't it?"

"We're family," Rikiel said quickly.

Ungalo threw his arms around Rikiel and Giorno and gave a wide grin. "Yeah, can't you see the resemblance?"

The nurse frowned doubtfully and glanced back at Dio, Hol, and Mista. "And those three?"

"I'm his father," Dio said with a glower. "We don't have time for this."

Hol approached the nurse and flashed a winsome smile as he gestured at Mista. "Listen, my friend and I don't know my way around this place very well. I'd be glad to leave if you can show me the way."

"Oh, um, of course," the nurse stammered. Hol took her by the hand and Mista rolled his eyes but followed him. Once they were a few paces down the hall Hol looked back at the group and nodded enthusiastically towards the door to Donatello's room.

Once they were around a corner, Hol gave a pointed glance to Mista, who wrapped an arm around the nurse and held her in place.

Hol narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. "There's no goddamn way you're not a Stand user. I just wanted to get you far enough out of the way that you couldn't alert anyone else." He summoned the Emperor and it twirled in his palm. "Now, I never like to hurt a woman. You can see this, right?"

The nurse shivered in fear. She threw her arms back and tried to wriggle out of Mista's hold. "What? What are you talking about?"

Hol broke out in a cold sweat. "H-hey. Don't bullshit me."

"Jesus, lady, cut it out," Mista complained as she grabbed at his hat in her panic. He pulled out his revolver. "You can see a real gun, right? We're gonna walk you over to that supply closet and you're gonna stay there until we let you out. We don't need you complicating things."

"Of course," the nurse answered. Her hand swiped across Mista's forehead. Hol inhaled sharply as Mista slumped forward and fell to the floor. Two discs fell out and clattered against the tile.

"Oh shit," Hol said as the nurse latched onto his arm with an iron grip.

"Indeed," Whitesnake answered.


Dio strode into the room first. A machine in the corner that he assumed to be the nebulizer was chugging away and emitting a rather absurd amount of steam. He yanked at it and the plug popped out of the socket. It sputtered and turned off.

A rounded metal track on the ceiling separated the rest of the room with a thick curtain. He twisted the fabric into his fist and threw it to the side. The rollers rattled along the track as the curtain swung open and he saw Donatello lying in the bed and staring at him in astonishment.

More importantly, sitting beside the bed was Pucci with a calm expression, a relaxed posture, and a patiently expectant air. He closed the book he had been reading and set it on the bed. "Well," he said lightly, "should I introduce myself, or have you already done the honors for me?" His gaze passed over Dio to land on the three behind him. Ungalo and Rikiel were standing behind Giorno. Giorno looked tense, but Ungalo and Rikiel looked as if they were moments away from clinging to each other in fear. Pucci tilted his head at them. "Goodness. What have you been telling them about me? Donatello," he said, and he glanced at him, his dark eyes flashing with what seemed like joy. "Now that you're awake, this is the perfect opportunity for you to meet your siblings."

Donatello cleared his throat and furrowed his eyebrows. "Um. Okay." He didn't seem all that enthused.

Ungalo and Rikiel were much less fearful; now they merely looked confused. Giorno, however, was still watching Pucci closely.

"You know what I'm here for," Dio said lowly.

Pucci nodded. "Yes, I do. I see that you would like to make a trade."

Rikiel made a choked sound of concern. "What do you mean, trade?" Ungalo called out.

Pucci smiled gently at them, but he returned his attention to Dio. "I should know exactly what I'm trading for, shouldn't I? Three discs for three sons. It seems even, but…" He trailed off. A wet, slithering noise reverberated from the ceiling.

Whitesnake dropped down and landed in a crouch at Pucci's side while holding a silver memory disc. Pucci took it from its hands and nodded. Whitesnake reached out with its other arm; Pucci plucked Hol's Way to Go! sticker from its hands and placed it upon his own.

"While I don't appreciate being shot, having that womanizer follow you around has ended up quite advantageous for me," Pucci said as he patted the sticker against his skin. "I'm sure you're still very strong, but at least you won't have the stopped time to lord over me. You could probably still kill me if that is what you wished, but then I suppose you would never find out where your discs are."

"The calendar," Dio stated. "How much did you destroy?"

"That information makes for good leverage, doesn't it?" Pucci asked as he idly bent the memory disc between thumb and forefinger. "I don't think that I will be telling you that just yet."

Dio narrowed his eyes.

Pucci held up the memory disc and gave it a cursory glance. "Let's see. Hol has been traveling with you this whole time, so he should have seen all of your Stands by now. Ah, here we are. Sky High. Control over a mysterious species known as skyfish. The majority of the skyfish population is currently being digested by Rattle That Lock." He tilted his head and pursed his lips. "Bohemian Rhapsody. The ability to bring fictional characters into the real world and apply their fates to those who identify with them, but it has a global reach and is nearly uncontrollable, affecting friend and foe alike." He tsked. "And finally, Radar Love. The ability to sense the presence of living beings in a specific area."

Giorno allowed himself to relax an iota, but he was still on edge as Pucci set the disc down with a sigh. "I do not think that these would be particularly useful to me, but they are your sons, after all," he said as he peered up at Dio. "I want you to add something to this trade."

"What are you asking of me?" Dio replied.

Pucci's expression grew serious. "Who are you, really?"

Dio stared at him, his face held carefully calm. "I am who I am, and you know me."

"I do?" Pucci asked, and his tone veered close to mocking. "Do we still share the same motivations, the same goals? Why do I feel as if we do not?"

"I'm extremely tired from physical therapy today, so can we wrap this up?" Donatello interrupted as he frowned at both Dio and Pucci. "Whatever the hell you two are going on about, can't you do it somewhere else?"

"Oh, Donatello, thank you for reminding me that you are here," Pucci said lightly, and Whitesnake grabbed him by the arm and yanked him out of the bed. Donatello yelped in surprise and pain as the IV was pulled from the crook of his arm. He fell to the floor in a heap. Pucci leaned over him and wrapped an arm around his throat.

"I will give the discs back to you," Pucci stated, "if you can prove to me that you truly are the same man I knew." His hand swept over Donatello's forehead and two discs slid out. "If you are the same man, you will not try to stop me. You will not care if I kill him."

Dio tilted his head and frowned. "Don't you need my sons to continue?"

"Perhaps I do. Perhaps not. To tell you the truth, I just thought it would be nice to include them." Donatello choked against the tight grip of his arm as Pucci spoke. "But in any case, I cannot allow you to block my path forward. If you can think of another way to prove yourself, I would be delighted." The discs slid out further and Pucci was expressionless, his eyes hard and dark. "To have his Stand and his memories is equivalent to having him at my side for my purposes, isn't it? If you try to stop me, it is only because you are sentimental."

Dio stared at him, his expression verging upon anger. How else could he possibly prove his ruthlessness, his dedication to their shared ideal? His memories of Cairo were so muddled by the time loop that he didn't know what things Pucci would or would not remember. Even then, bringing them up wouldn't necessarily convince him. Dio had been so careful to cultivate an image of himself that Pucci would cherish, that he would use as a template to trace as he hunted after Heaven.

But… his motivations were different, now. His priority was to escape his double, not to make a new Heaven. He was no longer that idealized image that Pucci held close to his heart. But Dio still considered himself to be the same as he had truly been back then: a man with the utmost drive to survive and succeed.

"Pucci…" He trailed off and his expression grew calmer. "You don't know what I've been through in order to reach this point. If you would let me have the time to talk to you about it, you would understand. I've had my Stand taken away from me, given back, taken again. I've killed and I've been killed, too. I spent another century in complete isolation beneath the ocean just to get here. I've faced humiliations and tortures that would have changed me, if I were anyone else. But I am the same man, Enrico." He dropped his gaze to the terrified Donatello. "If this is what it takes for you to believe in me, then so be it."

Donatello closed his eyes and grit his teeth. Pucci began to pull.

"I don't know why you keep complaining about that," a familiar voice stated. "I only kept you in there for about a year, tops."

Everyone turned to look at the far corner of the room. Dio's double gave a little wave. "Ciao," he said, his tone mocking.

Time ground to a halt. Ungalo went still, one hand latched onto Rikiel's shoulder. Giorno stood in front of them with one arm thrown out protectively. Across from them, Pucci kept his hold on the half-removed discs as Donatello clung to his arm. Pucci was staring in stark incomprehension at where Dio's double was standing. The sticker on his hand abruptly disappeared.

Dio found himself frozen as well, but only out of fear. His double strolled over to Pucci and leaned forward with his hands on his knees, looking at the frozen scene as if it were a sculpture in a museum.

"I'll be honest, this just isn't dramatic enough," his double stated. He turned to look at Dio as he patted Donatello's hair. "Why would you give a shit about him? You only just met." He dragged a nail across Donatello's neck, miming at slitting his throat. "There's barely even a decision to make here."

Dio only watched him silently. His double shrugged and then tapped at his chin thoughtfully. "I think I know how to make this better."

Time began again. Ungalo shouted with surprise and Rikiel swore. Donatello fell to the ground in front of them and the discs gradually went back into his head.

Pucci looked down and his eyes went wide at the golden-hued disc that was partially in his grip. Giorno bucked against his hold and kicked his feet against the floor.

"Wouldn't you like to know what it does?" his double asked. "Pucci knows. He just read it."

"No! Let go of him!" Ungalo cried out. Rikiel began to shiver. He raised his hand, then lowered it, his expression fearful and uncertain.

"Here," his double said. "Let me show you."

The world shifted around them and Dio stumbled. His vision seemed equally split between the hospital room and this new locale but when he focused one seemed more real than the other. He was now standing in broad daylight, but his double waved a hand and something was done to keep him from vaporizing. Dio glanced around with growing concern.

He heard a cacophony of shouting in Italian. There were several people he did not recognize scattered and prone across the ground. Wait—one looked like Mista, albeit a bit younger. And not too far from him was the turtle from the van, except it didn't have the metal latch system. Nobody seemed to notice that Dio and his double were there.

His double tapped his shoulder and pointed helpfully.

Giorno was crouched on the ground, his eyes burning with determination as he plunged a Stand arrow into a golden humanoid form.

Or, that wasn't quite what happened. A hole appeared in Giorno's Stand and a man threw himself at him, a powerful crimson Stand manifesting at his side. The man prepared to land a killing blow.

The surface of Giorno's stand cracked apart and bloomed open beneath his fists.

As the attacker leaned back, Giorno raised an arm in tandem with his Stand. The arrow slid up the crumbling golden limb and pierced so deeply that it disappeared.

Things then became very strange. The man attacked and yet did not attack. Mista fired off several shots and yet he didn't. The man retreated and advanced all at once. Two opposing wills grappled until reality sided with one. Time staggered and condensed into a point around the man as Giorno and his Stand watched.

Giorno stared down at the man with righteous anger. He and his Stand advanced upon him and Dio could recognize the pure intent inside him, the determination to show a seemingly unstoppable enemy that their final desperate efforts were, in fact, useless.

The man refused to believe it, but he was defeated. Causality collapsed around him.

Time stopped, but it didn't stop for Giorno. Gold Experience Requiem was staring directly at Dio.

His double grinned. "See, now that's a Stand worth stealing."

Giorno turned to look at them, surprise and shock writ clearly across his face. His double was as nonchalant as ever, but Dio stared back at him with wide eyes. The world wavered between the hospital room and the sunny day.

"Well, let's not cause a paradox," his double said with a laugh. The world shifted. "Time to check in on Diavolo."

The man Giorno had defeated—Diavolo, Dio assumed—was standing in the middle of a highway and shaking uncontrollably. He was plastered by an oncoming truck. Diavolo ran past a construction site and was impaled by wayward rebar. Diavolo fell into the ocean and drowned in the choppy seawater.

"And you thought I was cruel to you," his double said. "This is the final power of Giorno Giovanna's Stand. A private little world where there is no real consequence because there is only one outcome. No plan can ever be completed. No goal can ever be reached." He tilted his head and smiled as Diavolo was crushed by a fallen piano. It would have been more comedic if it weren't for the hideous crunching of his bones and slow spread of blood beneath the scattered ivory keys. "Our dear Enrico would hate this, wouldn't he?"

Dio felt a searing flash of panic. His double chuckled. "I doubt Ungalo would be able to stop Pucci quickly enough, but Rikiel could at least distract him. He is going to lose his hold on Giorno. That is when you will have to make your choice."

The world fell back into place. His double was gone. Ungalo was yelling and nearly in tears. Giorno's fingers dug into Pucci's arm as he tried to escape his hold. Rikiel's uneasy breathing grew steadier. He lifted his hand.

Pucci's elbow went slack for just a moment and Giorno fell away from him. The disc slid back into his head and Gold Experience Requiem manifested.

Dio launched himself forward and threw his arms around Pucci. He crouched down with him as Pucci stumbled to his knees and Dio curled over him protectively, his back to Giorno. "Wait," he said, and the pain in his voice was enough to make Giorno falter.

"Enrico," he said quietly, and he could feel the man's heartbeat beneath his touch in the same way he had when he first reached out to heal him in the chapel. "I will not lie to you. I am not the same man that you remember. That is only because that man never existed."

Neither Pucci nor Giorno responded, so he continued. "In Cairo, I considered you a friend, but it was in the same way a craftsman would consider his favored set of tools to be friends. I honed you like a blade. You were useful to me."

"I know this," Pucci said quietly.

"Yes." Dio paused. "But even now, when we are at odds, I find that I do not want you to come to harm."

"Because I am still useful," Pucci stated.

"No." Dio huffed and considered his words. "Because I do not want to see you hurt."

Pucci fell silent. Dio wrapped his arms around his chest and held him tightly. "I am selfish. I am impulsive. I am quick to anger and I prioritize my own happiness above all others. Surely you must know this of me. I am not perfect."

"That doesn't matter. We shared the same goals." Pucci shook his head and cleared his throat. "The man that I knew…"

"Perhaps I cannot truly convince you." Dio smiled wanly as he found himself echoing Jonathan. "But to pretend that something isn't so, just because it hurts… that is not like you, Pucci."

Pucci was quiet and still. Dio's shoulders shook with a helpless laugh. "If you still don't believe me, just ask Hol. I kept you away from Cairo for a reason. He cleaned up my messes then and he does it even now." He felt a dry tightness in his throat. "I suppose you are both my friends, in different ways. You both know that I take. I took so much from you both, but especially you." He let his head rest against Pucci's shoulder. "You do know me. You know that you have always been my friend. But I have never been a friend to you. Not a good one."

He felt something wet patter against his forearm. He was silent for a few long moments. Pucci sniffed and leaned back against him.

"I didn't tear out the date you need," Pucci finally said. "I found that I could only bring myself to remove the days I feared you might use to try to stop me. The night you killed Jonathan Joestar is still there."

Dio let out a long sigh of relief. "As I thought. See, we do know each other." His tone grew more sardonic. "Our shared love of the dramatic puts a damper on clear communication, don't you think? How did you think I was going to interpret that message in the box?"

Pucci's shoulders briefly shook with something that may have been a laugh. "That I was determined to succeed."

"The moment that I get to tell Hol 'I told you so' is going to be exquisite," Dio said with a chuckle, but then his tone grew more genuine. "I'm not going to stop you from obtaining Heaven," Dio stated. "There are just a few things that I want to do first. But when I am done, I will stand at your side."

Pucci took a deep breath. "If you are truly going to see this to the end, then you must stop Jolyne."

Dio felt confusion seeping into his newfound peace. He leaned back and loosened his hold on Pucci, who then turned to peer up at him. "Who is Jolyne?" Dio asked.

"Oh," Pucci said softly. "Oh, dear." He pursed his lips and then frowned as he placed a hand on Dio's arm. "One might even say good grief."

"...You're kidding," Dio said flatly.

Pucci gave him an exhausted smile. "I am not."


(as always, thank you for reading! i hope u enjoyed this chapter because i had a very fun time writing it!

also fun fact giorno's little speech about listening is real advice from a professor i had that did a lot of humanitarian aid project management)