(Note: We started a similar story a few years back, went back to it recently and decided that it was awful. This is our apology! Yes, this is a JoJo reference ;) )
Giorno looked up, narrow face blank as he watched from one of the upper screen porches of his father's large Italianate Painted Lady, green eyes tracking the beat up truck jalopy as it grunted down the narrow alley behind the house like it did every morning and every evening since early June.
It was now mid-July.
Using what little senses his biological parents had passed on to him, the teenager absently set the flower crown he'd been weaving on the little mosaic topped table that his fathers had brought back from their honeymoon in Pompeii, and stood while turning the bluetooth speaker playimg Lana del Rey down, trying to hear over the truck's guttural rumblings.
Nostrils flaring, lip unconsciously curling, he frowned, revealing teeth a little too white, a little too sharp for a human. Hmmmph, nothing; Guido was way better at this sort thing.
Giorno disdainfully watched the rusted out hulk lumber towards the Stein's house before sitting back down and picking up the unfinished garland.
The Schmidts, whatever they were, were home again.
Giorno bent his head over the garland and began weaving in a length of purple silk ribbon as the snails in the glass house across from him munched on moist leaves and Lana quietly lamented about Blue Jeans.