There was an uneasy tension that had settled over the group after their close encounter on the train. Trish was practically oozing irritation, clearly directed at Bucciarati judging by the glances she kept giving the older man. As far as Bruno went, he was trying his best to not pay any attention to her and read his novel but he was doing a pretty bad job of it, seeing as he'd been on the same page for the last twenty minutes.

Abbacchio was busy doing… whatever he did with those headphones. Maybe it was cool jazz, maybe it was screamo, maybe he was just listening to porn, honestly Mista just couldn't read the guy. Narancia was entirely focused on trying to balance his pencil between his lip and nose while Fugo stared off into space instead of attempting to teach Narancia the latest in their math escapades. Something about complex fractions.

As for Giorno, well… the blond had been quiet ever since Bucciarati returned from the Grateful Dead fight. It was normal, really, but Mista could tell he was probably wallowing in frustration or self-deprecation or whatever he felt about 'not doing enough' again.

Everyone was trying to distract themselves from the big questions in the room and everyone was failing. Everyone but Mista, who was too busy thinking about Giorno, and Narancia, who was too busy… well, not thinking.

Deciding that he'd just take matters into his own hands, Mista turned to Narancia and said, "Hey Nara, truth or dare?"

Narancia barely spared Fugo a second glance, and when it seemed the blond wasn't going to protest, he eagerly spun to face Mista as he yelled enthusiastically, "Dare!"

A wide smirk crossed Mista's face. He'd been waiting for this. Narancia always always always picked dare; in fact, Mista was pretty sure the brunette had never chosen truth once in the entire time Mista had known him. Perfect.

"Drink Aerosmith's jet fuel."

To his credit, Narancia only seemed mildly surprised for maybe half a second before he crowed, "You're on!" and called out his Stand.

Giorno, having quite obviously noticed the development, decided that he wasn't going to ignore it like Abbacchio was and pretend that maybe his subordinates weren't trying to take care of themselves before the enemy even got to them like Bucciarati was. Hell, Bucciarati knew by now that he couldn't stop them.

"You aren't going to stop him, Fugo?" Giorno asked curiously.

Fugo shrugged, finally setting down the math book that he'd been holding to eye the group with a bored expression. "He has no grey matter left; therefore, he has nothing to lose."

Narancia paused his search for Aerosmith's fuel tank long enough to ask, "What's grey matter?"

"It's what makes up your brain."

"Ha! You're an idiot, Fugo!" the smaller boy cried in delight as he switched his attention back to his Stand. "Brains are pink, not gray! Now who's the stupid one?"

"Still you," Fugo answered with a roll of his eyes as he turned to Giorno. "See my point?"

"Indeed. Narancia, I don't believe that your Stand has any fuel. It is, after all, not a real plane."

"How dare you!" Narancia was clearly insulted for some reason, even though Giorno had a point, and Mista felt kind of stupid for suggesting it now. Obviously Aerosmith had no fuel, it basically ran on Narancia's life force or whatever it was Stands ran on.

"You could try eating the bullets instead?"

Mista almost couldn't believe that suggestion came out of Giorno's mouth and, judging by the smirk on the blond's face, he was very pleased with it. Mista thought he was liking Giorno more and more with each passing second.

"That's a great idea!"

Bucciarati apparently had decided that was enough because he fixed Narancia with a sharp look as he said slowly, "No one is eating any bullets today. At least not intentionally. Mista, pick a different dare. Giorno, I expected better from you."

Before Giorno could look too guilty, Mista slung an arm around him as he said, "Sure, whatever you say, mom." Fugo and Narancia burst into giggles and Giorno cracked a grin as Bucciarati just sighed resignedly and went back to his book.

"Lick your dick or whatever, then," Mista drawled offhandedly, ignoring how Narancia instantly went to work undressing, much to Trish's shriek of horror and Fugo's yell of protest. "Don't take Bucciarati too seriously," Mista leaned in to whisper in Giorno's ear as Fugo busied himself trying to get Narancia to stop. "He's just pissed he has another kid to watch."

"I see," Giorno mused. "Abbacchio leaves all the parenting to Bucciarati, I take it."

Mista's eyes widened as he barked a laugh and slapped Giorno on the back, pulling away as he tried to muffle his chortles. "Yeah, yeah, that's it exactly! Poor mom can barely take it!"

Apparently having had enough, Abbacchio glared at them as he yelled, "Shut the fuck up!"

"Alright, dad."

Abbacchio looked positively murderous as the rest of the room erupted in laughter, even Bucciarati cracking a small grin at Giorno's sass.

"I will kill you, Giovanna, don't fucking try me."

This time, Giorno just nodded and Abbacchio, feeling content enough with his threat, went back to whatever blared through those headphones of his. Mista heard Narancia asking Fugo "Truth or dare?" and frowned in confusion.

"Did you really lick your own dick?"

"You didn't say it had to be physically mine," Narancia said simply, and honestly? Mista didn't want to know whatever he meant by that. He could probably figure it out, judging by the way Fugo smacked him upside the head but Mista was more than content not imagining whatever his two friends had just done while the rest of them were distracted.

"I'll go with truth," Fugo replied, clearly wanting to shift the conversation, and Mista was more than willing to oblige.

"What's it gonna be, Nara?"

"Um…" Narancia had clearly thought of a dare instead of truth, like he always did, and needed a second, before asking, "If you had to have tiny gorillas for hands or tiny sharks for feet, which would you pick?"

"What the fuck, Narancia? The gorillas, obviously. Extra fists to beat the shit out of you with."

Narancia humphs in agreement, pleased with Fugo's explanation until he realized what he actually said, and shrieked indignantly while yanking out his switchblade.

Fugo, one arm out to hold Narancia back, said, "Now that that's done, Giorno. Truth or dare?"

Giorno looked surprised, and whether or not that was because he was surprised to be included or surprised that Fugo would ask him out of everyone, Mista didn't know. He just knew he was very interested in whatever Fugo was going to ask when Giorno inevitably replied with, "I think I'll choose truth."

"I have a lot of questions for you-" Mista supposed that was fair, this was Fugo after all, "-but I think I'll just start with a simple one. What do you think of all of us?"

"Oooh, good question, Fugo!" Narancia gave up on his attempts to stab the blond as he swung around to stare excitedly at Giorno.

"Well that's hardly fair," Giorno debated, not looking nearly as concerned as Mista was at the moment. "There's five of you, surely that's five questions, not one?"

"I'll pick just one person then." When Giorno nodded, Fugo smirked, flashing a quick glance at Mista before saying, "Tell us about Mista."

Mista was torn between wanting to murder Fugo in the most painful way possible and wanting to kiss every single hair on the blond boy's head. Judging by the wink Fugo shot him, this was clearly meant to be a good thing. Mista didn't really know how he thought he knew that Giorno 's response would be a good one, but he figured that they'd also just laugh it was a bad impression. Not that Mista could really blame Giorno if it was.

"Mista, hmm?" Giorno cocked his head to the side as he looked at the brunette sat beside him, who was desperately wishing he could just fade out of existence right about now. "I suppose a close friend? Well, as close as one could be after knowing each other for just a few days. He has given me… a very important perspective that I was lacking, and has helped me stay grounded. I'm greatly appreciative that I have him by my side, and I hope he will stay there even when this is over."

Mista kind of just stared in shock, a squeaking noise escaping his throat as he quickly clamped his mouth shut before it could come out all the way. God, why was Giorno so fucking perfect? Not only was he hot, he was sweet too, holy fuck, a guy like Mista didn't deserve to be anywhere near someone as pure as him.

Noticing that the others were staring at him, Giorno averted his gaze as he explained, "I admit, I'm not used to expressing my thoughts about someone out loud, so forgive me if that sounded at all strange."

"No, no, not strange at all! We were just kinda surprised." Fugo was quick to alleviate any of the awkwardness, as usual. "It's just when that kind of thing's asked, we use it as an excuse to rail on each other."

"I think it's quite refreshing to have someone give an honest opinion," Bucciarati's voice came from the other side of the turtle, letting them know that he'd still been listening even if it didn't seem that way. "I've always thought you all are too hard on each other."

"We get along great, mom, don't worry!"

Bucciarati just sighed. He couldn't even be mad, not when he knew Narancia sincerely meant it. "Thank you, Narancia."

"Giorno, it's your turn! Go!"

"Oh, um, I'm not very good at thinking of things like this. Perhaps you would like to go for me, Narancia?"

Boy, did he ever. Narancia leapt from the couch he as lounging across to latch onto Bucciarati's leg, literally pulling him into the game as he spouted off a billion stupid questions for when Bucciarati picked truth. He was the only one of them smart enough to never pick dare.

"I hope I didn't make you feel uncomfortable." A soft whisper from his left drew Mista's attention back to Giorno, who was looking at him coolly.

"Nah, you're fine," Mista answered, clearing his throat as he added, "And me too. Uh, that you're my friend, I mean. I-I think that too."

"I'm glad," and Giorno looked like he really meant it, his green eyes sparkling beautifully, "I haven't had a true friend before, so… it's a nice feeling. Being with you."

Mista would normally have pointed out that that sounded really gay if it was anyone else, but this was Giorno, and not only did the blond seem to not have a great idea of social cues, Mista wouldn't really mind if it was gay. Not with a guy like Giorno.

"Well, I ain't going anywhere." He said that quietly, mostly because he didn't want the others hearing, but also because it felt like this was something private, like it was an intimate moment that he wasn't willing to give to anyone else but Giorno. Mista wanted more of those.

"Good."

When Giorno's hand slipped over his own where it rested on the couch, the soft skin feeling warm and right against his own, Mista didn't pull away. Not even when Fugo shot him a knowing look and a wink when Giorno wasn't looking.