Mista only made it about an hour into the drive before he asked the burning question that had been on his mind ever since Giorno had relayed the details of the events with the Stand he had fought just a few hours ago.

"How'd you get your eye right?"

"Hmm?" Giorno spared him a glance that lasted all of half a second before he was back to staring at the road. Not that Mista could blame him, that's what you're supposed to do when you're driving. He just wanted Giorno to look at him more.

"Your eye. After Baby Face," he explained with a lazy point in his own right eye's direction. "How'd you make it the right color? Y'know, when you put it back inside your head?"

"You make it sound so sickening."

"Well it kinda is, ain't it? That couldn't'a felt good."

"It was about as bad as having my eye carved out in the first place." Mista had to give him that; Giorno made a strong point. "And it's green. Not too difficult of a color to recreate."

"Yeah but what about-" a dramatic wave of the hand "- the nuance."

"You sound ridiculous," Giorno smirked. "What nuance is there when it comes to the color of eyes?"

"Well, since you asked," Mista shifted in his car seat in the back to better situate himself for his explanation, "There's a shit ton, dude. Maybe it's just green to you but there's a lotta greens out there, y'know? Like dark ones, light ones, uh-"

"Green ones?"

"Haha, hilarious asshole. Anyways, there's, uh… shades! That's the word, there's shades, shades, I tell you."

"I see." Giorno didn't actually sound like he saw, but Mista let it go out of the goodness and benevolence of his heart. "And what shade are my eyes to you?"

"They're like emeralds," Mista was saying before he could even filter his words. "The greenest emeralds I've ever seen. Like, gorgeous, dude."

"I'm gorgeous, hmm?"

"Not you," Mista sulked, even though he personally thought that no one on earth had ever been quite as gorgeous as Giorno, "your eyes. Geez man, pay attention."

"I'm paying attention to the road," Giorno pointed out and Mista let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Yeah, I can see that. So how'd you get the color right?"

"I can't say that I did," Giorno responded truthfully. "I simply allowed Gold Experience to perform its… power? Ability? Whatever it's called. If the color is right, then you have Gold Experience to thank for that."

"Huh. Guess I didn't think'a how you'd make it. Makes sense. Heh," Mista smirked, "your Stand knows more about you than you do."

"I do believe most people know more about myself than I do," Giorno answered wryly, switching to sarcasm as he added, "I am, after all, a young man in the prime of his youth. How could I possibly know who I am?"

"You sound like a fuckin' parent or some shit," Mista scoffed, thinking back to one of the things Bucciarati first said to him when he got him out of prison.

'If you ever have regrets, you cannot go back. You must decide who you will become right now.'

"We all made our choices, huh?"

Giorno hummed in agreement and that was that.