Author's Note : Erm… no. We're no where in sight of the end. We're just now touching on the older canonical characters and the far distant events that gives structure to what went down in canon.
And not to ruin anything coming up, but Lucian Pello is indeed Sawada Iemitsu. The way it could work for him to be adopted into the Vongola main family was that they specifically searched for him. They have the paper trail of how he's related and all the other famiglias knew full well Vongola was looking very hard at Primo's side of the bloodline for a few years to find him. Why/How the 'Vongola Lion' changes his name… is an event coming up very far down the line. Once he's old enough for that/the timeline gets closer. He's fully Italian, and Primo went to Japan after his stint as Don Vongola, so the descendent in question very likely was from whatever part of the bloodline that remained in Italy. Otherwise we're looking at a lot of generations of Italians in Japan that specifically imported significant others to keep themselves Italian instead of Japanese after two or three generations. Which is... possible but really weird.
Xanxus is a surprise baby Sky. Kind of… literally. Will be born at the end of next year.
(Yes, you can PM me. If you ask a question it's more likely I'll respond instead of be weirdly anti-social and hesitate about if I should or not. My PMs are open, I don't mind answering questions.)
Russian Roulette : Second Chamber
Chapter
(Saturday the 12th of February, 1972. Mafia Land.)
"Before you say yes or no, let me say the whole thing first." Sonya bluntly informed the peg-legged Mafioso hobbling up to her behind Cesare in his native language.
"…okay?"
"Are you alright for a long walk right now?" She pointed sternly in his face before Lando could finish opening his mouth. "I know you just got off the damn plane. It's entirely alright to do this tomorrow instead. It's not pressing, there's no rush, and if you'd rather just get the brief on the hospital shit then go to sleep instead I'm fine with that."
As a matter of fact, the reason she was meeting them directly outside the air/sea complex was specifically so no resident thought to try to prey on a lamed made man. Easy pickings or not, depending on how long he'd been like this and what adaptations he'd come up with to compensate.
Verde had brought in Adrik just simply to cut out any foolishness, no one would fuck with a Vongola Guardian no matter how one-eyed right now, that just left Lando in need of some preventative measures.
Sonya, the Mafia Land Cloud and Nightshade, was his 'preventative measures'. If he was up for semi-family and semi-show off his protection shit or not didn't matter a damn. Everyone around was a little pacified now with the whole 'unholy undead Clouds' terror that had spread so much faster than any of them had expected.
Slight miscalculation there, likely meant someone would 'test' it here shortly.
The injured and sick didn't survive Mafia Land's streets for long, not without dedicated friends or the money to afford care in St. Julian's. Which meant that 'test', whenever someone found their balls to do it, would happen right in front of her brat if she didn't get the kid out again quickly.
Lando eyeballed her warily, then shot a skeptical glance at Cesare's profile.
"We have our milestones, they have their milestones." Freely offered her killer chef with a flick of a hand. "The brat hit one of theirs, and she would like to share that accomplishment with us. To celebrate it, it's nice to have it done soon. Today or tomorrow, either will work as far as I've been informed."
"You have religious shit tomorrow." She pointed out in exasperation. "Natalina's taking us all to church, I wasn't sure where or at what time."
"With the brat with us? Of course she wouldn't commit to details, Lovely Bossy Dragoness. But a day is long, we can do more than one thing in it."
Sonya eyed him warily next for the semi-sarcastic tone. "Do I want to know what the hell's between you and Natalina?"
Cesare piffed in her face. "I sure as shit would rather not."
Lando made a rudely drawn out 'eeh' noise next to him. "Long story. Needs beer to tell it without… at least three fights breaking out."
"Yeah, that's a theme for this month." With a shrug, of still bare shoulders that were probably going to end up sunburned every fucking time she came back to Mafia Land, the thief instead waved a hand to get the lamed Mafioso's answer. "We've got four whole days until Adrik's, which will tell us when yours is going to even start. You're all here early because Tats is a fucking micro-managing bitch. Now is fine, later is fine too. It's just polite."
The Mafioso she really didn't know at all thought about it, glancing to the seaman's duffle bag he had strapped to his back then what remaining luggage Cesare had his hands full with. "Uh… let's drop off shit first. Wherever the hell you're putting me for the wait."
"I've got it. Ward!"
"I'm not your Lackey, bitch."
"No." Sonya agreed flatly as she crossed her arms under her chest. "You are my Lackey's Lackey. Hop to it, dumbass."
The gunshot was… utterly unsurprising.
She looked down, sniffed in irritation at the blood now staining her brand fucking new corset and the unfortunately light purple halter top she wore over it, then looked backwards at the surprised hitman from England as her chest belatedly screamed in pain. Again. "This week? Seriously?"
Ward stared. At her, at the not hole in her back which had fast drying blood itching at it, then back up at her. A hand still holding the gun was waved in her face with all the disbelief.
"We told you." Bjǫrn pointed out for him with all the aggravation as he stopped leaning up against a nearby building to do it himself. "We specifically took the effort to warn you that the hit was impossible. You did not listen. That's coming out of your pay."
"No one warned me that she's fucking-!"
"Immortal. An Undead Cloud." Countered the Lightning-Storm flatly with a dismissive gesture when his pity project utterly failed to articulate anything. "Physical injury will not work. Frankly, no medical expert yet consulted is certain if poison will work to kill one of them."
Sonya pointedly sniffed again, tapping a toe on the pavement just hard enough to start a rumbling shiver echoed in the usually stiff architecture of the mechanical island. Everyone who had stopped to gape that could bolt did so with haste.
Very suddenly, there were only five people left on the main street.
Her Lackey was treated to all the pleading laced looks from the business owners on the main street he passively aggressively ignored as he took possession of all the luggage.
"…I need a drink." Lando tiredly informed his fellow, rubbing his face with one hand as she… continued to not die in front of him.
Cesare hummed something highly unamused, being slightly more used to Cloud Voodoo letting him pull off a better poker face at 'his' Donna being shot in front of him. He had experience with the underboss doing the same damn shit, twice gave him more ground to recover in since he'd long since gotten past the 'wtf' part. "How many pieces do you think I can render him into?"
"No, you're not killing him. Cesare, that's how we got into the mess with that moron." She bit out sourly, carefully measuring her breathing to not snap right here and now. "He got it out of the way for everyone with the only real excuse possible, and thankfully not in front of the brat. Fine, whatever. We knew it'd be tried right after Skull showcased what the hell we were. He can skate by reason of actually decent timing."
"Why the hell is that coming out of my pay?"
"Dry cleaning, bitch." Sonya snapped at the unfortunate hitman before her Lackey could respond with the irritation creeping over his features. "If they cannot save this corset, you are paying for a new one."
Noah Ward shot her such an ugly look, seventy-five percent pure terror and a quarter utterly exasperated disbelief. "Dry cleaning."
She turned specifically so he could see the bloodstain on her front, the very inadequate amount spilled for basically being shot in the heart. Arms unfolded and spread wide so he could fully appreciate how ineffective his bullshit was.
"…right. Dry cleaning. So… about that week I get without reprisal…?"
"You want to fuck with the hospital's timetable, go right ahead."
The English hitman pressed a finger into his chin for a moment then held it out to her. "Can I request a stay of execution?"
"Pick a different fucking week."
He quickly tucked the handgun he was rather shit at using away. "Will do, ladybird. Thank you, uh… sorry about the whole… I tried to kill you, thing. Didn't know. My bad. Sorry."
"Piss. OFF. Bitch." Sonya snarled in his face, going right on back to tapping her toe in utter fucking irritation no matter how the windows around started to rattle in place.
Ward booked it, not even waiting to see if Bjǫrn had anything else for him.
"Dama, I would prefer you go to the hospital now instead of later. You are not supposed to be utilizing your Flames until the surgeries." Her Mafia Land agent quietly informed her in Italian, so the Mafiosi could understand without just hoping they both knew English.
She sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose for three whole seconds. "Tats is going to be pissed. Odds you can save his fucking life from her?"
"Poor." Countered her Lackey very dryly and with no pity at all as he got everything in hand for Lando. Now he was actually adult height, the strong Nordic blood in him had counteracted some of his rough street living. Bjǫrn was a tall, slightly gangly and slightly muscled businessman with all the quiet confidence Viper drilled into his head for her. "I know better than to expect even my Flame mix will protect him from a Mafia Land nurse intent on bloody murder."
"I'll talk to her." It still might not work.
She had no doubts Tatiana loved her enough to murder someone else for hurting her, but the real problem right now was the Sunny stress-out about the singular chance she had to fix everyone in an almost impossible gamble.
To say Tatiana was stressed right now was putting it lightly, and while Ganauche was doing all the 'stand in the way and take it' of his type… even her own fiancé knew when to throw in the towel and just let the Sun have her way. Sonya did not want to give the whole 'earned herself a hit' problem to her sister, she had better shit to do than play 'murder me if you dare' with someone with more balls than brains.
"…Lovely Bossy Dragoness?" Cesare, not being stupid, left it at that if she wanted to explain anything or not.
"Getting shot hurts, okay?" She couldn't help the irritated tone, so she made the effort to try to make up for it. "Family shit has to be all day tomorrow. Bjǫrn here, Lando, is my Lackey. Ward the moron is his Lackey. He'll get you that drink for you. If you want to get drunk tonight, just have him rent you a hotel room before he leaves you all for his own work. I wouldn't care normally, but I've got guests on top of the kid with me right now."
Her Mafioso fearlessly hugged her to him, which was really fucking nice right now. "Next one dies."
"I get the next one. Then you and Lando can flip coins for whomever gets the ones after that… if Tatiana doesn't want a shot of 'piss me off, I fucking dare you' to showcase."
"Skull didn't…?"
"He's used to not showing it." Sonya sourly confessed darkly into his chest, pathetically happy for the hug despite the fact she usually hated being smothered in them. "His deaths are usually… worse. Compounded fractures on top of burst organs, then has to do a press conference or some shit to not be swamped with emergency medical teams. I'm not that reckless, or stupid. I don't often need my undeath."
"While I am pleased to hear you are not as reckless as him, honey…" He countered pointedly with another strong squeeze, probably more for his own benefit than hers. "…I would very much appreciate it if you took your Lackey's advice and go to the hospital right now."
"Please." Lando echoed in a pained tone right next to him. "I believe now. I have total fucking faith in this 'Voodoo'. Just… fuck, woman. I really need a drink right now."
(ooo000ooo)
(Saturday the 12th of February, 1972 continued. The Emergency Department, Saint Julian's, Mafia Land.)
"Some moron decided to test the full effects of Cloud Voodoo and what I can do." Sonya flatly informed Matveyeva Rima, one of the late-cycle Rain nurses she was still responsible for, when she 'mysteriously' reached the front of the line.
Despite fifteen actually injured people being in front of her in the que all of five seconds ago.
The girl raised a singular eyebrow at her, leaned over the reception desk to see the bloodstain down her front, and sniffed in disgust as she leaned back to make the proper notations on the intake books she was pulling a shift to cover. "And you are assisting with surgeries this week. Ignorant moron."
"I need to talk to Tats, before we have a mess of hit and counter hit going on in the background to worry about too. May as well get yelled at for getting shot right now before I do."
"Stand by, Miss Nightshade." Rima instructed tonelessly, picking up a phone on the desk and punching three numbers in. "An orderly will fetch you once Nurse Primakova is alerted and prepared to take your needs on. Can we break his legs, at least?"
She blinked at the girl, but only got polite expectation aimed at her back. "I do not fucking care right now, just do not kill him or make me more work. I have to pay for it since my Lackey decided to take pity on the idiot for the impossibility of the hit."
"Lovely." Rima took an entire second to pointedly stare down one of her hospital security guards to go tell whomever that needed to know it, then she smiled politely up at her in a professional's pleasure as he bolted off. "One moment."
Rumor reached here before she did if the Rain nurse knew full well Ward lived through it.
…great. This was going to be like that 'oh shit she's a Cloud' bullshit all over again.
And fuck did her chest hurt… but until her sister had a good look Sonya was a little too quietly terrified to stop feeding Cloud Flames into her Voodoo.
She was shot through the heart.
No, fuck that. She was not going to die this fucking early again.
Shamal just got mature enough to not be a little innocent to be wicked with her, they still had to go give him his tattoos. Tatiana was relying on her to fix impossible shit and be one of her bridesmaids for her wedding, Skull wanted a bit of time to fully talk once all the stressful shit was over with. And Cesare really wanted one of his friends and fellow Mafioso back, as did Reborn.
So it was fine. She'd make it fine. It didn't matter, Sonya was fine.
…but fuck did it hurt.
(Sunday the 13th of February, 1972. Mafia Land.)
Meandering after Sonya with her brat holding one hand and a dog happy to sniff around leashed to the other, Natalina dropped back two steps. Not far enough to end up with Dante bringing up the far rear as he'd been doing all fucking morning, but just far enough to talk with the other two survivors of their group. "You both smell like a brewery."
Cesare flatly ignored her, despite the fact she had to put up with it all through Mass. Momma Russian didn't give two figs apparently, and the kid didn't seem to have cared either, but it was still embarrassing for her to have associates come in to church reeking like a distillery.
It was by no means odd here on this fucking island, but she had some damn standards.
Lando heaved his customary and ragged sigh of 'fuck my life, why am I stuck with you idiots' in her face, which still smelled of whatever the hell they overindulged in last night. "Not now, Natalina. It's Sunday. Give me at least a day of grace before I have to put up with you two."
"There's a very fast rumor mill here, jackass. I heard what happened yesterday, it was all anyone at the hitman's guild wanted to talk about."
"Then why the fuck do you need to ask why we smell like a brewery? We got drunk, bitch. Very, very, very blessedly drunk."
"You didn't invite me, fuckface." Hearing rumors was not the way to learn that a friend got shot. Even if it still didn't stick to kill her, again.
Lando very pointedly gestured to the other Mafioso on his other side with an open hand, the gesture given more emphasis with his stilted stomp-gait to account for his missing leg.
Natalina pointed in Cesare's wholly unimpressed face. "I did it once, I'll fucking do it again. No, I don't give a shit you-"
"Oi." Sonya interrupted pointedly, narrowly glaring at all three of them over a tattooed shoulder. "As the man said, Natalina. Not now. Stow it. This is the brat's special day to brag, not yours."
"I'm not a kid anymore, mamma." Shamal pouted up at the woman still holding his hand… or rather, letting him hold her hand.
"I'm calling it like I see it, love. You will always be a brat, no matter what age. Besides, we're here. English now." Sliding her hand out of his, Sonya snagged her godson by the back of his shirt and hauled him up to sit on a bench-like folding seat more commonly found in a dentist's office. "And go right on ahead and brag, kid."
The little gangly Italian boy skeptically eyeballed the obviously Russian man seated in his own chair, backwards just so he could fold his arms on the backrest instead of sit properly, who was watching him with mild expectation. Then he glanced in question at his godmother.
"How the fuck is he supposed to know? Brag, brat. He will then help you pick a design and embed it into your skin. It might be a compromise of what he thinks you deserve to show and what you wish, or what he can design to whatever specifications you have in mind. He cannot start that until you tell him why we are here."
Shamal recollected himself to sit more on his own than be sprawled a little on the whole bench affair. "In public, mamma?"
"It is just your first, Shamal. To start your collection, which a future tattooist will judge how much to believe you from. It will merely show what you cut your teeth on. You very likely will not stick to it, I have no doubts you do not find it interesting enough to stick with it. But it is a fair warning to give, right?"
Instead of immediately bragging, the kid held up a finger at his godmother. "What does he know, and what shouldn't I give for detail?"
"Everyone in Mafia Land is aware of Flame users and their… quirks. Keep the identity of our neighbors out of it, names and titles. Everything else is fair game. Just bear in mind, Russians are defiance of our Authority. They likely will not find the law enforcement part as impressive."
"Types?"
Sonya sighed sourly. "There are only so many of us, kid. If they are really motivated they will be able to trace down where and when this all happened and figure it out for themselves. Unless they put in the work, do not give them what they do not need for free."
"Ah… real quick. We went international, Bazanova." Interjected the tattooist pointedly, lifting an arm up to just limply bat away at the air. "No, everyone back home might not find everything done to law enforcement all that impressive… unless it's battery."
"Do I look big enough to 'batter' a police officer?" Shamal shot back in his face huffily.
"How the fuck am I supposed to guess, boy? I don't get paid to make assumptions."
Natalina, despite knowing she really shouldn't, shot Cesare a confused look.
Shockingly, he actually answered her directly this time in their native Italian. "We stand for Renato in his place. Shamal has committed his own first crime against a respectable opposition, he has 'graduated' from being a child in need of protection to a young criminal who merely has the Lovely Bossy Dragoness' protection."
The tattooist still waiting for the brat to get on with it shot them a skeptical look. "In-laws?"
"Basically." Sonya confirmed blandly before any one of them could. "They are Italian, Gena, give them a moment."
"You give them a moment." Snorted the man lazily with a flick of his upraised wrist. "Now hurry it up, kid. I don't have all day."
"Two cons."
"Really."
"Same day."
"…really?"
Shamal crossed his thin arms over his chest and stuck his nose in the air. "Had to clean up. I go to school with a couple others, Flame users. One of them pointed out this con woman to me, in the middle of mocking together forgeries to pose as his mom and try to extort his syndicate for him to be returned. Figured out… she originally targeted me but decided mamma was maybe a little… too tough for her."
'Gena' the tattooist slotted a sideways, highly amused look at 'mom' standing there without any damn expectation and just waiting patiently. "Yeah… yeah I see what you mean. Con artistry, huh? We can work with that… give me the rest of it, so we can sort out what suit."
…suit?
"Mamma said," offered the brat with all due attitude of reporting his parent's advice that didn't quite mesh with his own wants, "clubs and spades. I want two cards up my sleeve, and I'm shooting for aces. Rather have a heart, but mamma said not unless I want to admit I'm willing to steal girls. Spade and diamond instead?"
There was a slight, thankful sigh before the guy reached for a black binder in a set of them. All of which were set on the bottom shelf of a rolling end table that had quite a lot of ink jars and a tattoo gun waiting for him to use. "A spear and a shield? Sounds about right, but you better give me the rest of it. It better blow my damn mind and fit the theme before I'll give you that pair of aces."
That binder was full of card designs, just pictures of given tattoos and full colored if not yet 'given' artistic doodles without a matching polaroid of it embedded into someone's skin. Sorted by suits apparently, and the man skipped a whole chunk of the 'hearts' with a roughly dismissive flick to get to 'diamonds'. There were little sheets of scrap paper left in random spots, and one of them was pulled out to go with a charcoal pencil to be left on that end table.
Presumably to design whatever after they agreed on a style?
The child they were all gathered together to 'hear him brag' grinned wickedly in his face as he pointedly glanced up again. "Challenge accepted. Getting the grifter to target me instead, even if she knew mamma was dangerous, went like this…"
Dante, the utter fucking idiot, plastered a notepad to Natalina's back to scribble something down real quick while the brat talked. Cesare beamed like a proud uncle, and Lando just seemed really confused at the whole production but seemed to not mind just because they were included.
But… yeah. If Sonya wanted them here for the brat's sake, since Renato wasn't possible, they'd stand around while the kid got his 'first' tattoo. Fucking least they could do, since she hadn't needed them yet for 'stand in' duties and hadn't asked them to randomly drop their own concerns for her to get this in.
…even if this was kind of weird. Kid was a Mist, so at least he could hide a tattoo from non-Russians who might be concerned about a child that just turned nine having permanent ink stabbed into his skin.
(ooo000ooo)
(Sunday the 13th of February, 1972 continued. Mafia Land.)
Neither Shamal nor Alek were at all fooled, and Sonya suspected Cesare had his own suspicions.
It was fine. It was. Tatiana had fixed it.
She just fused her heart together wrong with Voodoo and nearly gave herself a heart attack as it strained to keep beating without access to nearly a whole ventricle chamber.
Given she had been shot through it, that was… understandable. Still… ow.
The quick and dirty open-heart surgery to fix it had been painful. Kappel took over an entire surgery wing in five seconds flat for them to do it, but with how stressed Sonya had been any attempt to dull the pain had been burned right on out of her bloodstream.
Then, worse yet, she was a Flame user and the Rain nurses couldn't do shit to calm her down.
So… ow. Past ow, now ow was significantly less painful. Still, pain. Mostly remembered pain, little real.
Bound and determined to not fuck them all over being a cowardly snot in the face of just phantom physical pain, the thief got her big girl panties on for the day and decided to ignore the lingering strain as it slowly bled off her heart with a whole night to put between herself and the incident. It was fine, there was nothing strenuous to do today but social shit, her heart was fine.
They had x-rays that her heart was fine. Healed entirely. So too was the bullet hole. Completely gone, because Tatiana was a terrific Sun Flame healer.
…Ward had better be grateful her sister only had her man break both his fucking legs, since he opted out of his 'retribution free' week. It was all that really kept Sonya sat in place letting people gawp at her in broad daylight.
If anyone did anything further, she'd have to pay the hospital bill.
Which honestly took a lot of the desire to smash his face in right on out of her, rather than because what the hitman did was actually timed decently and at not a bad time. If it had to happen.
Unfortunately it was the idiot who took a contract to kill her that shot her, who was on enough of a tightrope as it was. Bjǫrn might be able to get him some more leeway with the public attempt under his belt, but she still resented him for doing it. Which meant 'her' associates might damn well get around to murdering him back, and still kicking off a whole mess.
Mafia Land's regulations were not written with immortal undead Clouds in mind. If they, smartly, decided 'one' attempt at what should've been a confirmed kill let Ward go from that contract… he was free game. Fon would probably fucking murder him the moment he got back to the island, if Natalina or Reborn didn't get there first.
Thankfully, Cesare wasn't a stranger to Mafia Land. Between him and the Italian hitwoman, who was also getting some suspicions of her own but actually lived here and knew where things remained more typically than someone who only casually came by, they found a decently close open bar to her tattooist. A patio table wasn't ideally what the Storm-Cloud wanted right now, but she'd put up with it for Lando's sake. Mostly just to sit down and maybe drink something.
…and so she could smoke without feeling like a shit mother and pet owner.
Especially since Alek was equally bound and determined to smother her in his fur protectively. While still easily distracted by new things and utterly beyond confused why her boy had wounds on him, her canine was pointedly sticking by her hip no matter what. A few sniffs occasionally went Shamal's way, all the newer people were suspiciously stared at when they got too close, and now she was seated his fuzzy butt was firmly planted next to her left boot.
Sonya was firmly past the point of wanting to socialize and be nice, she used everything she had left on Gena to start Shamal off right. Her Mafioso blessedly knew that and took over everything for her, which probably meant she had to let Skull's 'I'm giving you a raise no matter what she said' stand.
For making her cry over a man that wasn't dead.
Sonya was curled up in her chair, idly watching as Cesare pointedly needled Dante about his 'terrible' connection keeping skills and in no mood to save the poor bewildered Mafioso from his sabotaged reputation just yet. Before she had to, as Shamal sure as fuck wasn't in the mood to save his 'by technicality uncle-in-law' either, a rough hemp bag of something clacking was plonked on the table right next to her ashtray.
…which was leaking blood, by the way. Might be half of why the chatter around her suddenly cut off.
Her godson's eyes flashed an unholy dark blue, so that precaution probably had to stick around as long as the Mafia School Professor could.
Tipping her head to rest against the back of her chair, the thief eyed the two men standing just beyond the polite little 'privacy fence' that did no damn protection for privacy. "That bad?"
"Fucking Vietnam." Reborn snarled in her face, well into a foul mood and she didn't even know if he caught the rumors yet or not to know she was 'post-Voodoo'. "The US are bombing the whole Ho Chi Minh Trail, Laos and Cambodia together, have been for years. Whatever shit both halves of Vietnam had left, whatever survived in the other two countries, got swamped with every fucking possible Flame user in the same area going active all at the same general time."
Theoretically, this was also the World's Greatest Hitman being semi relieved to see the brat on the case and preventing one of his old not-friends from recognizing him past whatever the hell would stick from Viper's work. Dante was equally suspicious and wary of the 'new' faces as Lando was, there was no slowly dawning recognition or even a hint of it from the partially Flame-blind Mafioso.
Great… pissy worried hitman inbound the moment he heard the rumors, and she had so many guests right now.
"So they were all Vietnamese, not Indian?"
Fon shrugged, not simply and with some lingering ill-humor of his own. "There were… a few odd cases Viper left in decent enough shape for identification. Three of which have checked out with foreign nationals that moved to the area before hostiles started or former MIA military, only to become Flame users under the strain of existing in a highly contested war zone. It was… decided that a month was long enough, and we should make our way back to report in. The Triads will take over from there, as their native syndicates are… mainly gone before we even reached them."
"They dogpiled all of them they could, American, Vietnamese, Russian, Cambodian, Laotian. Even if it got them killed. Then they had to evacuate all those willful pricks out of the area. Which is how our little miss crazy tits got her hands on so many as she did." Slapping down one of the five files in his left hand on the table right next to the still leaking hemp bag, the hitman made an expansively dismissive gesture at the whole collection. "Hope you enjoy it as much as I fucking hated writing it."
Sonya snuck a peek, not… nearly enthused with this new pile of papers as she usually was when someone gave her something new to read. "Oh… you wrote it in Cyrillic? You can write Cyrillic? Thanks, Reborn. I did not expect that…"
Not quite caught flat-footed since he knew she knew he knew, but at least making an effort to bite back his black bile, the Sun unbent just a touch for the 'favor' of her recognition of a favor done for her. "I know you read Italian perfectly fucking well, and English. Figured I should make some effort to cut out as much fucking translational issues as I could before it could even start. Some languages just don't have similar words for the same fucking thing."
"I do not have the time to read this right now." She waved down the bar table to the Italians still shamelessly watching everything going on. "I have too many curious eyes right now. Can you hold it for two or three days? I will take an entire day so you can watch me read it…?"
Fon knew full why she had to leave Mafia Land tonight with him, and why the file would not remain secured, so the assassin merely shrugged an assent.
Reborn tilted his head to the side, apparently caught the bandages covering Shamal's new tattoo on both arms around Cesare's form from how he zeroed in on it, and tilted his head back to give the kid a look.
Shamal, being utterly willing to brag to everyone since she told him he could today, divested himself of the bandages to show the 'new' Mafioso his colors.
A pair of aces, spade in front of the diamond, on the inside of his left forearm. A small indigo trident on his inner right wrist.
"…a little conman?" Mused the Sun leadingly with actual honest interest. "A Misty conman. I'll let it slide, de Mort… if I can hear this story."
"I would not be opposed." Allowed the Storm tiredly, sliding his hands into his sleeves. "After what we have dug through all last month, a good story would be pleasant to hear now."
He honestly looked as if he needed a break or something, and if Fon was showing the strain then no wonder Reborn was being so bitchy.
"Please, mamma? You said I get to brag today! Can I?"
Sonya sighed and exchanged a look with Cesare. Her Mafioso unhelpfully shrugged for her. He might not know the World's Greatest Hitman at all compared to the Storm assassin that had visited them slightly more frequently, but he did know she worked with the Sun and presumably was another Mafioso. If he didn't see anything wrong with that trade…
"If you listen to me closely, brat. Do not leave Fon's sight, I do not care why you might wish to. Do not press Reborn further than he is willing to indulge you. If either of them say you are done, you come right back. I do not have the patience for stupidity today, do you hear me?"
"I'm not sure if I should feel insulted or amused." Reborn quipped darkly at Fon behind her, and surprisingly the man answered immediately.
"We know little about you, only that you tend to shoot at those that annoy you. Then murder them if they do not back off." Countered the assassin pointedly but without actual… aggression. "Take it or leave it."
"Dead men don't make good character references."
"Morbid."
Shamal put a stop to it by vaulting the little inadequate railing, his bandages again protecting his new ink from the open sea air or the equatorial sunlight, for them to go find their own little spot for brat to brag. Sonya passed backwards the file blindly before it soaked up the fluids, kind of mildly interested in what the hell was in that sack leaking blood.
…so she took a peek when someone grabbed the information on the Omertà breech and everything done to seal it to hold for a few more days.
"Knucklebones? Are there any toe bones?" Unfolding the whole thing, which was a part of a burlap sack all folded up to keep everything together, Sonya indeed spotted part of someone's foot. "You got me bones?"
Reborn had opened his mouth, for what she didn't care and didn't feel up to listening to. Given his surly mood, she could guess.
Pecking him on the cheek before he could jerk away or be a jerk, the thief jumped the fence too. Just to give Fon a more restrained hug since the fucker was entirely too tall for that shit when on his guard, and his culture really frowned on that kind of thing in public. "Thanks, guys. I have been wanting dice."
Cesare cough-spluttered on his wine. "The bone bowls aren't enough for you, Lovely Bossy Dragoness?"
Weirdly, Reborn remained silent.
Fon awkwardly patted her on the back, uncomfortable with public displays of affection like most Asian men but at least giving her the rarely desired hug since she wasn't jumping him. "I told you she would appreciate it more than the head bouquet."
Oh… well great. That wasn't going to do much for the hitman's general mood either.
Rolling her eyes at all of them, Sonya pulled back and shot a look at her killer chef. "The skull bone bowls are mine. The only reason I am going to let this 'gift' slide is because now Lando can teach me to carve bone to get a pair of dice. And we have extras for me to fuck up in."
Natalina looked a little grossed out at the fresh bone collection still leaking on the table entirely. Dante was, for some reason, hiding his face in both hands. Cesare was entirely too interested right now for her peace of mind.
Lando idly scratched at the side of his neck, warily eyeing the newcomers but shrugging after a moment. "I usually just carve fishbone, but I'm game to try human. Sure. Why not? We need to bleach them first then let them dry out, then we'll see what kind of knives work on human bone. It's something to do."
"This may not be how it happened." Drawled her Mafioso to his fellows very wryly and with sadistic humor in his tone. "I'm believing it was similar anyway."
The Mafia School Professor made a whiny, almost subaudible noise from right next to him… which turned into the start of a hysterical sounding giggle.
Before Sonya could even start to ask, the strangely silent Sun hitman finally spoke up. "Kid? Is your mom seeing anyone right now?"
"Dude. Seriously?"
She turned around just in time for Reborn to wordlessly gesture to her entire self for the bratty Mist's very skeptical benefit with the hand not occupied by several bulky files.
Sonya snagged Fon's sleeve and gently but forcefully pulled the mildly exasperated Storm to stand between her and the hitman. Slightly weirded out by him asking Shamal that in public, and not entirely certain of what the hell was going on given Cesare's side-comment seemed to be referring to the past somehow.
…but she knew Reborn, and her own damn godson, and she had all the suspicions.
"Besides," Shamal gleefully compounded the whole situation with like the absolute snot he was, in a superior tone and all the smugness, "she's out of your league."
"…ho? Really."
"Donna de Mort, former head of the Moscow Flame Academy and current guardian of the Varia territory." Bragged the brat wickedly, secure in it already been given that he 'could brag' today all he wanted. "Nightshade, Mafia Home Tutor, and my godmother. Way out of your league."
"I," Reborn stressed very pointedly and one hand placed delicately against his chest in offense, "am the World's Greatest Hitman."
"That," Shamal pointedly countered himself with all the brat he could hold in tone alone, "is the World's Greatest Thief."
If her brat was the one to stick her with that title, Sonya would… be perfectly fine with that, honestly. Obviously that wasn't really all that trustworthy coming from a member of her own damn family, but she'd put in the work to keep it if it stuck. Entirely.
He could use the bragging rights, why not.
…it'd probably come back to bite her in the ass like this whole 'brag away' thing, but she'd live with it.
Fon cleared his throat very pointedly. "Perhaps we should… leave that here, yes? I do not believe she is… interested."
"You," Reborn countered with all the glee and with whatever nasty thing was still lingering in him, "already said I could."
"A lady does not hide behind friends if she is interested." Insisted the assassin politely, flatly pretending that Shamal wasn't faking outrage in front of him and she was staring at his back in utter confusion. He was still tensing up a little with where he was standing, so that meant something about this was his fault. "By all means do as you will… but beware I will enforce refusals."
"Wait, what?"
Fon utterly refused to look her in the eye as she rounded him to see what the hell was going on.
Which left just one thing, ask and see who answered. "What the hell did you do, Fon?"
"As I am neither her father nor brother, Sonya's choices are her own." Mocked the Sun Flame Mafioso in Fon's cadence.
"…well, yeah." Sonya shot him a strange look, then another at the Triad member still not meeting her eyes. "He is not Arseniy or Skull. Why the hell does that matter?"
"He's known you longer." Reborn took all the pleasure in informing her politely. "And it's rude to poach."
She stared at him for three seconds of utter silence. "No."
"…what?"
"You do not own me. Fon does not own me. I, own me. I and only I decide what the fuck I will do. Skull can have opinions and maybe might argue me into doing something else, but even he does not dictate what I do as I do not dictate to him what he does. Cesare is the only Mafioso that has any pull on my opinions, and even he does not have the right to tell me what to do. That is fucking weird, and I do not like it."
The hitman firmly kept eye contact with her, then wordlessly gestured to the bratty Mist still waiting for his time to brag for his godfather to come around.
"…that is only slightly less weird, but I do not appreciate you asking in public."
"As the lady wishes." Purred the utter asshole with a wickedly sharp grin as he got over something that stalled him out in entirely too little time. "Come on, brat. Let's hear this story of yours that earned you some Russian tattoos, and see if we can't get along… hmm?"
Shamal made a show of darting his eyes around, kind of uncertain and no longer entirely sure on what to do now. After a second the young Mist 'obviously' decided to roll with it, but he kept up a kind of wary air about him. "Okay…"
"I swear to whatever you fucking hold dear, Fon, if you let him corrupt Shamal…"
"Aa… I should go supervise, yes. Excuse me."
…well, the only slightly good news was that this whole weird event had forcibly removed her phantom false pains, they had completely fucked off and she did kind of feel better.
"Honey, I want you to do me a favor."
Sonya shot Cesare a suspicious look, nudging Alek back from where he 'accidentally' leaned on the flimsy thing too hard just to straighten it back out. "I am not going to like this, am I?"
"Give it a try?"
"…seriously, Cesare? I work with him."
He toasted her with his wineglass absently. "Yes. However… you can't keep living in the past. You and your brother won't let Shamal flatly ignore it, we can't let you either. Renato's dead, honey. While he'd be thrilled down to his rotten black heart that you intend to never get over him… do us all a favor and metaphorically piss on his grave by moving on. At least try."
Lando snorted his stout, hacking and spluttering harshly to absolutely no pity from his not-friends.
She rolled her eyes again as she got back on their side of the fencing so her dog would leave it alone, and maybe she wouldn't have to pay for it to be fixed. "You are just saying that because he is a Mafioso."
"I'd prefer him over Master Fon, yes." Bluntly admitted her Mafioso dryly before downing the last of his wine. "From what I heard he comes without ties to any Famiglia to make everything messy, nice bonus."
"I'd never touch that." Natalina offered sarcastically with a dismissive flick of her wrist. "He's a busy body, Cesare. The fuck's everywhere these days, never for any actual reason."
"He is a Sun." Sonya offered in Reborn's defense, inspecting her new collection of possibly forcibly removed hand and foot bones before wrapping them all up again. "Does not matter what side of the spectrum you look at it from, they are all micro-managing worriers with too much fucking energy."
"On that note…" Lando drawled a little hoarsely, also interested in her new bone collection but too far down the table to do more than peer at it curiously. "Suppose we should all go see what your sister wants to natter at us about."
"…that means I have to deal with a stressed Verde's mouth."
Cesare blew out a gusty, longsuffering sigh at her side. "Lovely. And you can't even stab the man to get him to shut up."
"Soft Lightning?" Dante asked in dread.
"Soft Lightning. The World's Strongest Lightning." Confirmed her Mafioso with all the irony.
Sonya held up a hand. "Wait. If we get him beer, maybe he will not be long-winded."
Natalina made a half-desperate and half-amused noise, likely having met 'long-winded' Lightnings before in her guildhall to sympathize as she did. "I'll get the beer. Your place, Sonya?"
(ooo000ooo)
(Sunday the 13th of February, 1972 continued. Sonya's Condo, Mafia Land.)
"Alright. If everyone is comfortable and has no more pressing business…?"
"Uh… babe?"
Tatiana heaved in a deep breath. "Yeah, Ganauche."
"Can I have a beer?"
"Ask Verde."
"Verde?"
The Frenchman in question heaved a massive sigh of irritation around the neck of his eighth bottle so far. "Avail yourself in moderation."
"You may have three, Ganauche." She translated firmly.
"Fuck I love Russians."
"We heard." Sonya and Adrik pointedly deadpanned flatly in stereo.
Her Mafioso absently shrugged that off as he quickly popped the top off a bottle, some of her baby sister's Mafiosi sitting around the living room snickered. "Brow would ban me from alcohol before a major surgery. I like this. Don't get me wrong, your homeland's fucked up… but the people aren't bad."
"Thanks… I think." Deadpanned the undead Cloud in the room very dryly. "And just to annoy you, Tats, I do have pressing business tonight and probably most of tomorrow."
"Really? Seriously?"
"I am not listening to you two be saps for Valentine's Day." Defended her sister moodily. "Fuck, that."
Adrik glared moodily right on back at her. "I hate you. So much right now."
"Thankfully for all your sensitive ears, my little sister-in-law," Ganauche drawled tartly back for them, "the plan is to go back to my place instead. Since you have more guests we probably shouldn't terrorize."
"Still have plans. I will spend the whole of the fifteenth sleeping in, so there."
Tatiana sighed, but just had to shrug. Her roommate and the owner of the condo not being alright hearing her get fucked was… fair. Her kid could muffle all the noise he wanted, so she doubted Shamal cared at all. "Fine, whatever brat. I'm holding you to that. Okay, for the rest of you… keep your traps shut and no one will have a deadly accident. Okay? Okay. Adrik? Wave bitch, for the nice people that haven't yet met you."
Her ex-gang member obediently did so with middle finger upraised as Verde snorted at everyone.
The beer in his hands kept his damn mouth shut, so she really needed to chip in for the Lightning's beer money next.
"Adrik's got a collapsed lung, you all are here because we decided that needed fixing. And as we're fixing him, might as well see what else is possible. Importantly for you, Lando… Adrik has no Flames for himself. For you, babe, it's going to be a cloned organ thing. He's up first, on the sixteenth. If he works or not, and we highly suspect it will… your order is Lando then Ganauche. Seventeenth and then eighteenth, depending on how the observation period goes and the surgeries themselves that might be subject to change."
Before anyone else could hope to think up something to say, Verde leaned forward pointedly. "Have you then solved for the complication of not merely 'Voodoo-ing' the compromised lung in hopes of healing it or installing the copied healthy organ backwards?"
"I will mirror his healthy one." Tatiana and her own damn ex both stared at Sonya, who frowned slightly back at them. "What?"
"…no, no. Nya. Are you seriously telling me you can mirror copy shit?" She demanded in utter exasperation, stomping a foot on the hardwood floors in frustration. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"What part of Propagation did you forget?" Snapped the thief back defensively, hunching firmly back against one of her nice matching grey fabric couches. "All my weapons are made for the right hand, but sometimes I use my left. It is uncomfortable to use a righthanded weapon in the left hand. Skull does the same damn shit when he borrows one of my weapons, he is lefthanded. Surprise, we can change the orientation of what we Propagate as they are still copies under our will."
"…may I…?"
Suddenly with two battle axes in hand, she dismissively passed them to a surprised Natalina to pass along down to the Lightning who asked for them.
Verde carefully hefted both in what light a mid-afternoon on an island gave interiors with large windows, carefully examining the perfectly mirrored blades down to the last scratch showing the steel under the gold plating. "…I withdraw my request for clarification."
"It's a hell of a lot better plan than doing the Voodoo in three stages to copy the healthy parts and stitching them together." Tatiana gave in dryly. "Thanks, Nya. Ever so much, for solving one of the worst complications we were expecting within five words. At the very least, we won't be giving Lando there literally two left feet."
"At this point I wouldn't even fucking care."
Ganauche waggled his half empty beer bottle in the air. "Does Visconti know he can mirror-copy shit? I'd like to have two orientated eyes, not two right eyes."
"I don't know, babe. Call him."
Natalina leaned over to Sonya while the Vongola Guardian did so. "Why would Visconti not know if he could…?"
"Flame users have been basically reinventing the wheel for a hundred and fifty years, if not longer." She informed the woman blandly. "There is no centralized repository for Flame lore or what any specific fuck figures out. Like why it was utterly unknown until some weeks ago that undeath or even just Voodoo was possible for Clouds. There was a massive dip in the numbers of us, a lot of information died with them. We are still only now recovering some of the massive gaps. Mainly by whacking ourselves in the face with it."
"I was going to say you all are very tribalistic and tend to not want to share what you do know with each other." Dante D'Attilio offered into the pause lazily. "But then again… there's you."
Sonya shrugged dismissively back. "As the information died out, what is left is rarer and more valuable. Of course people hoarded it, regardless of quality or use. In the Mafia? Knowing just that small bit more might have been all that stood between a syndicate's survival and being wiped out."
"Nya is also… Moscow's repository." Tatiana offered fairly with a flap of her hand at everyone. "If she didn't know, no one knew."
"Until two years ago."
"The brat was not your fault." She faithfully repeated the line Skull told her to say every damn time her siblings 'defecting' was brought up, mildly if tiredly amused as her sister sulked for reasons not connected. "We can blame tall, dark, and snarky for 'luring' you away with brat."
Lando spluttered a laugh, shooting Cesare a wide look. "Please. Please. Tell me she fucking called him that to his damn face."
"She did, isn't she lovely?" Purred her sister's chef wickedly, so proud of her and she hadn't yet done shit.
"Speaking of you, Cesare." Tatiana gave him a wry and thankful smile as the man perked up expectantly. "I've got three different meal plans for each of them, they all have different severities of surgeries and need different things for the recovery. I need you to manage it, please. I can do Ganauche's myself, he's the easiest of them all, but adding in Adrik on top of the prep work at the hospital is about killing me. If you can-"
"Say no more, lovely. I will of course assist you."
Verde sulked in offended if slightly embarrassed irritation on his part of the couch set. Adrik just rolled his eyes at his own best friend and his not exactly up to snuff kitchen skills and passed another beer bottle for him.
If he was another Flame user like Ganauche it'd be one thing, he'd be fully healed the moment after his surgery was done. All he'd need is time and experience in readjusting to having both eyes again. Neither Adrik nor Lando were Flame users, once the Activated Voodoo clones were in place they had to heal up naturally.
"No offense to your cooking, lady… but… rather he did it."
She snorted a laugh. "I'd rather eat Cesare's food too, Lando. The only other food-related thing… is whatever voracious appetite this is going to leave Nya and Visconti with. We could order massive amounts of food for them to eat to make up for the Voodoo use…"
The Mafioso smiled very dangerously in her face. "…but?"
"…but," she obligingly ended with teasingly, "it'd be so much healthier if you'd take that on too. It's a lot of cooking, of multiple things, to make up what our wounded boys will be losing and then all the calories the Clouds will be torching in one second flat to fix it for us."
Cesare sniffed in insult to her face, then pinned Natalina and Dante with a dark look each. "As I am without my poor apprentice… I suppose both of you will have to do as grocery runners and dish washers. How delightful of you to volunteer."
While obviously not thrilled, neither did more than make a face.
"I get a budget for this, yes?"
Sonya wordlessly unfolded one arm, a black charge card with an alchemical symbol and a string of numbers imprinted on it in stark relief held up between two fingers.
Her right-hand man delicately accepted it with glee. "Absolutely lovely of you, honey. That will do nicely."
"This is the only time you do not need to justify expense to Bjǫrn, Cesare. Whatever Tats wants, whenever Tats wants it. Do not skimp on her either."
"…anything?"
"Everything."
Cesare slotted Tatiana a sly, thrilled little smirk with a card linked to a massive fortune in his hands to spend. "Lovely… please. Make my decade."
"We pretty much emptied the kitchen for you to restock as you want, Cesare. The only thing in the fridge right now is Verde's beer and some kvass. Have at, the meal plans are in the drawer closest to the stove and everything in them is subject to change for better quality ingredients… but I'd just really like it if you kept the general sort intake as planned. Nya, Visconti, and I just need calories. As densely as you can pack it in."
Natalina suddenly squashed her baby sister to the cushions with her own body, much to her surprise. Which was lucky, because the chef bolted their way for the kitchen to see everything he had to work with and what staples were left in the cupboard. He would've bowled over one woman or the other had the hitwoman not done that.
"…I honestly expected this not to work a damn."
"Yeah, that is nice for you Natalina. Get off me."
"Uh… bad time? I can come back…" Ganauche blinked his one remaining eye at Tatiana innocently, but couldn't help the darting look to the two women basically laid out on one couch. With the vision loss he had to tilt and move his head to see clearly, which told her exactly what his distraction was. "…Visconti said he knew about the mirroring trick but hadn't realized he could combine it with the Voodoo. So… yeah. He's adjusting for it. Sorry babe?"
"It may surprise you all to learn…" Tatiana announced evilly, but to be fair her sister was hot and her hitwoman friend was hot so yeah of course they were hotter together. "But yes. Nya can be pushed around. Her innate Cloud skill is the Propagation of forces, if she has nothing to resist your force with or no time to get it from her own muscles… you can just pick her up."
"…and how is this not blindingly obvious?" Verde wondered in a tartly sarcastic tone, peering into the bottle in his hands as presumably he ran out already and needed a new beer. "I can lift the woman easily, and I am not a robust man."
"I utterly hate you both so much right now." Sonya muttered in irritation as she attempted to wait out Natalina before risking harm to more fragile people by moving herself.
Which required being pressed into the couch more firmly as the Italian repositioned herself to get up.
Lando reached over Cesare's abandoned spot and gripped the thief's black lace decorated wrist to haul her back across and out of there, almost into his remaining thigh, before gingerly releasing her. "Better?"
"You are now my favorite."
"Ha, hear that Cesare?"
"For five minutes, enjoy. I have the kitchen, I have an unlimited budget, and I have plans."
The lamed Mafioso heaved an exasperated sigh. "Ah… fuck me. Err… yeah, okay."
Sonya peered at him in question, half off the damn couch as she paused mid motion.
"He went professional, kind of… hard to argue." Lando grumbled like a sourpuss. "Hey, lady. I've a question. Neither me nor this Adrik fuck are Flame users, and I know when you use too much Sun Flames on a non-Flame user it goes… very fucking bad, very fucking fast. How the fuck are we surviving this?"
"We looked into that. The Cloud Flame copies of flesh are basically Flame, doesn't matter where the origin comes from. I can Activate it freely as I can another Flame user's flesh a limited number of times. All the tolerance you guys have will be focused on where your injuries are, for Adrik that's just where one of his lungs connects to his bronchial tubes. For you? Bone first, muscle next, and if you can sustain it without necrotic decay then your skin. At that point, whatever you can stand, you'll have to heal naturally. So no, you're not getting away without stitches or at least a plate to hold your thigh together again."
"…you're not going to… chop off my other leg to 'copy' it, right?"
Her baby sister gave him a dry, mildly irritated look. "Fuck no. I can copy parts of a whole. You might actually have to be done in parts, that is a… lot to do all at once. It may be the rest of your thigh first, your knee, then calf, then foot, depending on factors."
Dante flicked a hand to their surroundings. "Is that why you're… hosting?"
"Partially security." Tatiana allowed for, leaning backwards into Ganauche's light hug just because she damn well could. "Mostly. We could leave you all at the hospital for post-surgery, but then all your various enemies would then know where you are and that you're not able to leave. There's also the curious fucks who would want to poke and prod cloned body parts once we announce the success or failure of whatever did or didn't work, fuck them. And then… you're all not going to get a whole lot of privacy or rest in a damn hospital for all that long. There's a recovery wing, of course… but between that nurse-run open wing and semi-bland hospital food or here and Cesare? I'll be here anyway, I can do the post-op evaluations and physical therapy, why not?"
Then half because, had they not a physical residence able to hold everyone available, the nurse suspected Cesare would've murdered his way into the kitchen staff. Natalina would move in, regardless if she needed medical help or not, while one of her old associates was in recovery there. Dante very likely would do the same damn thing, less murder more talking… probably.
The CEDEF would've guarded the shit out of Ganauche, sure. They would also fuck off the moment the Vongola Guardian was whole again, which again would be almost immediately post-operation.
Verde was… Verde. He'd terrorize the nursing staff with his grumpy nitpicking and be invulnerable to any gentle or forceful attempts to eject or pacify him.
Best to keep everyone isolated to their own corner, allowed to guard or cook as they wanted without having to murder staff to do it, and spread the joys around equally.
Thankfully, they all did seem to be getting along. If that was because of undead Cloud in the room or not remained to be seen. At the very least, it hadn't started hostile for a temporary close quarters living situation.
They were all sticking to their little groups firmly still, Adrik and Verde on one side and then all of tall, dark, and snarky's remaining 'not-friends' on the other with her and Ganauche in the middle.
Kind of… weird Sonya was going to leave them to it for about twenty-four to forty-eight hours instead of jealously guarding them, even if that was from themselves.
In the middle of her wondering, a sudden brat phased through the front door in an obviously copied from Usov habit of 'portal walking'. "Mamma! Master Fon said eight, island time."
Sonya, still on her feet, glanced at the clock ticking away on the living room wall. "…fine, whatever."
"Hold up!" Tatiana eyed her little sister, who warily eyed her back. "You… have a date? With Fon? For Valentine's Day?"
"…the Chinese New Year." She notably didn't refute.
"Ah. Okay." Sure little baby sis. "So… what are you going to wear?"
Edging backwards away from her, the thief bolted a second before she could lunge.
"Nya! Come on, I just want to help!"
Flatly ignoring her, Sonya bounced off the wall with a boot and grabbed the reinforced hanging light fixture over the 'dining' area of her condo. Swinging from it only once, she let go and scrambled across the cabinets above her unconcerned Mafioso's head in the limited space between them and the ceiling.
"You brat!" Tatiana yelled over the sounds of wicked Mist snickers, mainly just because she could.
"So it's not just your brother you do this with." Cesare commented blithely, now paging through the meal plans he was responsible for to get an idea of what groceries he needed in stock. "Would you like some assistance, Lovely Bossy Dragoness?"
"She gets to use help, I get to use help." Insisted the Sun, not remotely daunted by this change in position. "You have to come down sometime, Nya. I'll fucking stand here until eight. I just want to help you be pretty for your date."
"I am fine right here." Sonya insisted stubbornly, crammed into a limited space and gingerly trying not to destroy anything while she wiggled her ass around to get comfortable.
"…if I may," Verde craned his head back to make eye contact and otherwise was utterly unsurprised or unmoved by the entire split second of acrobatics unlike most everyone else, "Sonya? Your sister has assumed a romantic nature of your arranged event."
"…oh. No, Tats. It is political."
"Oh come on!"
"I am delivering the Vongola respects to one of their contacts in a foreign nation, on a holiday where such is done by almost rote and they required instruction to not accidentally snub them due to differing cultural expectations." Continued the Storm-Cloud ruthlessly. "Since, actually, this is what I studied in college to do and I was requested to assist before it became… an issue."
"No, I'm not giving up." Tatiana crossed her arms under her generous bust, narrowing her gaze on her again wary little sister. "It doesn't have to all be political. You can also have a little fun on the side! You and Fon would be cute together."
Cesare and Ganauche exchanged a look between them.
"Flip a coin?" Offered the murderous chef brightly.
Her fiancé shrugged tolerantly. "Sounds good to me. Or we could wrestle for it, either's fine."
"I am not that stupid." Cesare countered him with amusement. "We'll decide by luck."
Verde snorted into the new beer Adrik had to go fetch him to keep his mouth too occupied. He raised a hand and let a crackle of Lightning Flames arc from his fingers for Lando and Natalina to understand why Cesare wasn't touching a Lightning user to decide something instead.
"Mulligan." Shamal announced smugly with a laugh, then his godmother wasn't on top of the cabinets anymore. "Try again, zia."
"Oooh, you little brat! Nya! You have to take a shower and get dressed sometime!"