"I still think I shoulda gone too."

"Yes, Mista, I believe you've made that quite clear," was Bucciarati's patient reply. The man was seated in the armchair off to the side of the sitting room while Mista lounged across the couch and didn't pay attention to whatever was playing on the TV.

"What if Abbacchio kills him, huh, Bucciarati? What then?"

"Leone would never-" a pause and then, "-do something that I would disapprove of."

"Pfft, yeah, then he wouldn't get what you do approve of."

"Care to repeat that, Mista?"

"Nope, I'm good." Bucciarati hummed and went back to his paper. Not that Mista was scared of an angry Bucciarati, but uh, he was.

Mista managed to hold his tongue for all of five minutes before he questioned, "But what if something happens and Abbacchio just leaves him there? Or what if something goes wrong and one of 'em dies? Or what if-"

"What if our newest member gets hurt?"

"I-I wasn't naming names or-" Bucciarati shot him a look, the one that he used when he was switching into Parental Figure Mode and damn, if it didn't remind Mista of his mom's own terrifying stare. "Okay, fine, so I'm worried about Giorno, screw me."

"He is more than capable of handling himself. I would not have brought along someone any weaker than that," Bucciarati explained, folding the paper and setting it down on the coffee table. "That being said, I understand your fear. He is, after all, quite young to be doing things like this. You all are."

"So're you."

"That's my point, Mista. Did you let your age stop you from joining the gang? No. It was the best choice at the time, and you took it. Giorno is doing the same thing- although his motives are different than what yours were."

"Well yeah, he wasn't about to get shanked in prison."

"…That isn't quite what I meant, but yes, you can interpret it that way." Bucciarati's blue-eyed gaze grew scrutinizing as he leaned forward and asked softly, "What is the real reason you're so concerned, Mista? What about Giorno is different from the rest of us?"

Narancia, who had been silently listening to his music in the other corner of the room, had apparently been eavesdropping the whole damn time, being the little fucking gremlin that he was, answered first. "He's gay for him."

"What the fuck, Nara?!"

"Fugo told me, you guys were making out last night." Narancia's face scrunched up as he made a show of his disgust and stuck out his tongue. "You're both gross."

"We were not making out, dumbass!" Mista's cheeks were burning and he could feel Bucciarati analyzing every little thing about his reaction. "That fucking piece of shit, I'm gonna fucking kill him! Screw Purple Haze, he'll be dead before he knows what fucking hit him!"

"Mista, please do not kill your own teammates," Bucciarati finally spoke up. "And Narancia, don't tease Mista. I'm sure they both have the good sense to do that sort of thing in a private space-" he held up a hand to keep Mista from denying it further as he added, "-if they chose to do that sort of thing. Which I don't believe they would do."

"Thank God."

"Because they've only known each other a day now."

"Bucciarati!"

"You are both old enough to know what you want," Bucciarati said. "If you choose to pursue a deeper relationship, that's no one's business but your own. Narancia, if you would give Mista and I a bit of space, I would greatly appreciate it."

Narancia looked a little irritated that he was being sent from the room, but he grabbed his CD player and skulked from the room. Hopefully to go sit in the corner like the little fucking three year old he was, Mista thought.

"Now then. Is what Narancia said true?"

"What?! No!" Maybe the crack in his voice wasn't the best indication that he was being entirely truthful, but Mista didn't really wanna have this talk. Especially not with Bucciarati. Oh God, what if he tried to tell Mista about the birds and the bees?! He was so much like a mom, he totally might, oh fuck.

"Alright, I believe you." Bucciarati clearly didn't, not fully anyways, but Mista wasn't about to argue with him. "But I do believe there is a reason you're so concerned."

"…He wasn't sleeping good, alright?" It wasn't a lie and Giorno hadn't said anything about not telling the others. So why did Mista feel a little guilty about sharing this? "He was up in the middle of the night from nightmares."

Bucciarati's face softened. "He's only fifteen. Barely older than a child. I can only imagine how shocking it must be to witness all these things. He acts so mature, you tend to forget."

Mista nodded in agreement. "I wanted to tell him it was okay to be scared, but I don't think that was the problem. He's… a lot more complicated than the rest of us."

"That's certainly one way to put it." It was obvious that Bucciarati knew something that Mista didn't, and Mista had caught on from the very start. While it wasn't strange for Bucciarati to bring a new gang member to join them, it was weird that Giorno had all of his trust almost instantly. It was weird that Bucciarati would listen to his plans without so much as a second thought. And it was especially weird that Bucciarati seemed to be consulting with Giorno more than his number two Fugo, or his partner Abbacchio.

"What's up with him, Bucciarati? I'm serious. What's Giorno's deal?"

Ice blue eyes flicked up to stare at Mista, probably calculating exactly what he should say and whether or not he could. "…That is for him to tell you, Mista. I shall not step in where he wouldn't want me to. But know that Giorno… his soul is noble and his intentions are pure."

Mista snorted. "Well I knew that, you wouldn't'a brought him with if you didn't believe in him." Mista stood up from the couch and stretched his arms overhead. "It's almost three, I'm gonna go get Pistols a snack."

Bucciarati made a grunt of acknowledgement, clearly happy to go back to his paper. Mista watched him for a few seconds and decided he'd speak up, even if it maybe wasn't what Giorno would want.

"Hey, Bucciarati?" The older man looked up to meet his gaze. "About the noble and pure stuff? You don't gotta tell me that, but… maybe you should tell Giorno."