It took longer than Mista had expected for everyone to find something to wear. It took him about as long as expected to finally find something Trish was willing to use.
She had a change of clothes already but insisted that both sets be washed because they didn't know when she could wash her clothes in the future and they were already "starting to smell and feel gross against my skin." Mista had taken a sniff when she wasn't looking and had thought it smelled like clothes, but what did he know he guessed.
There had been a large, gray furry blanket in one of the closets that she had immediately laid claim to, saying that she'd get cold easily otherwise. Mista had wondered how she didn't get cold when she basically just wore a bra and a sheet around her waist anyway but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
Narancia hadn't been so lucky and was immediately punched in the face. Mista was impressed; the girl had power. Narancia was not.
Fugo spent the next few minutes calming the boy down before he could go apeshit.
It had been an ordeal, and a bigger task than he'd thought it would be (there were like five beds in the house, why was there so few extra bed sheets?) but now it was done and they were gathered in the sitting room from earlier. Narancia and Fugo lounged on the couch, Trish had claimed the armchair, and Giorno was sitting on the floor leaning back against the couch. Mista was more than willing to plop himself down next to the blond.
"So what's this about?" Trish asked, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She'd made a little cocoon out of it, burrowing so deep that the only things sticking out were her head and hands.
"We're gonna play a game," Mista declared as Fugo and Narancia nodded in agreement. "It took hours of serious debate and turmoil and somebody almost died but we have finally selected the best choice."
"Is that so?" Trish muttered with a roll of her eyes. How so much sass could be contained in one little body, Mista did not know.
"What's the game, Mista?"
Ah Giorno, sweet, wonderful, beautiful Giorno, God bless him, just went along with it. What a literal angel. How so much amazingness could be contained in one little body, Mista did not know.
"It's something we came up with a while back when I first joined the gang," he explained. "I wanted to play two truths and a lie, Narancia wanted to play truth or dare, and Fugo wanted to play poker. So we came up with something that's kinda like a mix of 'em all."
"Abbacchio was gonna kill us otherwise," Narancia added helpfully. "He said we were giving Bucciarati a headache and we had, uh-"
"We had ten seconds to fucking pick something before he picked our heads off our bodies," Fugo finished. "Never doubt that man when it comes to Bucciarati."
"Right, so here's how it goes: we play a round of poker, Texas Hold'em rules, and whatnot, and there's only one winner. But, instead of betting money, we bet questions. Everyone bets one at the start, and the more you bet, the more questions the winner will get to ask you. If you win the hand, then you get to either ask the group a question, or ask someone who bet more than one question multiple questions."
"What if you don't want to answer?" Trish asked.
"Well, ya don't have to if you don't like the question, we ain't monsters," Mista said to Trish. "But you'll have to answer double the questions for whatever you say no to. If you ain't careful, you might wind up having to answer seven or eight."
"That happened to me once," Fugo added. "Those two idiots never seem to know where personal boundaries are."
"It ain't our fault you're a mysterious guy, dude," Mista said with a shrug.
"What if you don't want to answer any of the questions?"
Somehow, Mista had had a feeling that might be the case for Giorno. Call it gut instinct, but the guy was more than just Fugo-levels of mysterious.
"Then you'll owe us," he said. When Giorno looked confused, he explained, "If ya really don't like any of the questions we're asking, we'll back off, but you'll owe the asker a favor in the future, no questions asked. It's kinda like give and take?"
"Trust me, just answer the questions, GioGio," Fugo said. "You don't want to owe either of these two something; one time Narancia made me unclog his toilet. After he clogged it with a massive dump."
Trish visibly recoiled at the imagery while Giorno just made a face. Mista thought he was even cuter than normal with his nose scrunched up like that, even if it was in disgust.
"Should we start then? I'll deal first," Fugo said, grabbing the deck of cards from its place on the coffee table.
The five teens crowded around the table to better see the cards.
Mista flipped over his cards. Two of spades and seven of diamonds. Shit, his hand was trash. He looked at the others after setting his cards back down. Their faces were all unreadable, save Narancia who looked excited. The only issue with that was Narancia was excited whenever they got to bet, even if it was just for questions. He knew nothing; he'd have to wait for the flop.
Fugo laid out the first three cards from the top of the deck. Six of diamonds, ten of hearts, two of clubs.
Not too bad, he had a pair already. 'Course they were shitty twos, just his luck. Maybe he'd bank on the diamonds for a flush.
…
"Suck it fuckers, three of a kind!"
Narancia slapped his hand down to reveal two aces to go along with the last card revealed.
Fuck, just one more diamond and he'd've had that damn flush. Judging from the collective groans around the room, he wasn't the only one who'd lost.
Narancia laughed giddily as the others revealed their hands, all lower than Narancia's own. Trish was the closest, with two pairs, tens and threes.
"You cheated and I'm gonna find out how," Fugo growled, jamming his finger in Narancia's face angrily. Guy always was a sore loser.
"You're just jealous," Narancia sniffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Since you bet and now I getta ask you two things!"
"You gonna do that instead of a group question?" Mista asked and Narancia nodded.
"Hmm, whaddo I ask… oh, I know! Why do you wear such ugly clothes?"
"Call them ugly one more time and I'll fucking rip your intestines out," Fugo hissed. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with what I wear!"
Giorno snorted at that, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. The blond looked embarrassed while Fugo turned a very interesting shade of pink that almost matched his suit.
"NOT A FUCKNG WORD!" he shrieked, to which Giorno quickly waved his hands.
"I didn't!" he exclaimed as Mista frowned in confusion, "I didn't say anything!" What the fuck were they talking about?
"Is it too late to change my questions?" Narancia snickered, and Mista really wished Fugo would say no. Too bad.
"Yes! Fuck off, my clothes are great! You're too damn stupid to get it anyway," Fugo huffed angrily. "It's a reference to Purple Haze's virus and a technique used in laboratories to determine the amount of virus in a given dose."
"Shut the fuck up! I'm not dumb! And wait, so it's not 'cuz strawberries have those weird little holes on them?"
"No. And they're not holes, they're seeds, you imbecile."
"Huh," Narancia wondered, clearly not expecting the answer he got, enough so that he didn't even comment on the imbecile remark. Maybe the kid was finally learning some tolerance, who'da thunk. "Then for the next question-"
"You already asked two, so shut up and deal."
"What?! No fair, that doesn't count! I want a redo!"
"Life isn't fair. Deal the damn cards."
Narancia frowned, clearly wanting to whine more about it but he listened anyway. Leave it to Narancia to waste his questions on such stupid things Mista thought. If it was him, he woulda asked way more important stuff. Like what Fugo talked about with Bucciarati while Mista slept in the crop duster. Or what that weirdass Castagna guy had said to make Fugo think twice when even Narancia hadn't been able to do it. Though maybe asking about that stuff in front of everyone was a bad idea.
Oh well, he'd win this time.
He did not win this time. Trish did. Guess she had a hidden talent for the game.
She grinned wickedly at Fugo as she asked, "What were you laughing about, Giorno?"
Oh hell yes. Mista was liking this girl more and more. Narancia had slapped his hands over Fugo's mouth to keep the boy from screaming over the answer, and as they all leaned forward in anticipation, Giorno glanced guiltily at Fugo before saying, "He gave me a thong to wash earlier with the laundry."
There was silence for a second and then-
"BWAHAHAHAHA!" Narancia fell off the couch as he clutched his stomach, trying to breathe in between gasps and bouts of laughter. Fugo had kicked him in the chest which probably didn't help but the boy was too busy losing his fucking mind to complain.
Mista felt like he might die; surely he wasn't getting enough oxygen in his brain right now but he couldn't help it; it was so fucking funny and the look on Fugo's face was *chef's kiss* priceless and oh God, a thong.
Giorno at least looked like he felt a little bad, but even he couldn't help from grinning at the guffaws of the others. Even Trish was losing her mind over it, cackles of laughter peeling out of the blanket she'd wrapped herself in to hide her red face.
"It's not that funny!" Fugo cried, face as red as his suit. "It's the only thing that doesn't show when I wear my suits!"
So he had a reason after all. Damn, Mista woulda bet it was 'cuz Fugo was a little bitch boy at heart but oh well. His crops? Watered. His face? Clear. His day? Made. Nothing could beat this.
For the next hour or so, they continued to play, the game becoming less about who actually won and more about what kind of invasive or insane questions they could get away with asking before someone finally had enough.
Mista learned that Trish's favorite musical artist was Britney Spears and that she only drank Perrier because it was the water her mom kept at their home, that Narancia was a very skilled castanet player because when he was in juvie, an inmate showed him how to play using two spoons he'd stolen from the cafeteria, how Fugo used to recite the alphabet backwards to calm himself down but that when he got to the letter P, it only made him angrier because it reminded him of a teacher who once refused to let him use the restroom in grade school when he'd asked. He'd pushed said teacher down a flight of stairs when no one was looking and promptly switched schools right after.
Mista even had to reveal to the others how Pistols liked sausage best because they once heard him asking one of the girls he hooked up with "how my sausage tastes?" to which she had said it was the best thing ever. He knew she was being sarcastic, Pistols did not. That story had gotten quite the response from Fugo and Narancia who nearly lost their shit for the second time that day. Trish looked simultaneously disgusted and amused. He couldn't read Giorno's expression though, and that was never a good sign. Especially since it was about an ex of his.
After that, things felt a little awkward with him and Giorno until Narancia asked some weird shit about what bug they'd eat if they had to eat one. Never thought he'd thank Narancia for his weird, little brain and its disturbing thoughts but guess you never know. After all, there wasn't really a good way to explain "I hadn't met you yet" without telling way more than he was willing to tell at the moment.
Giorno was the only one who had avoided sharing any kind of personal had been some other random questions to the group as well, like what was everyone's favorite animal (Giorno's was, surprisingly, a corsac fox), what their favorite colors were (violet, although he was getting increasingly partial to orange, he said), and the now-infamous bug question (crickets, which were supposedly like chicken). Not that Mista was keeping tabs on what Giorno's answers were or anything like that. Anyways, any time it seemed like someone had a follow up question for him, Giorno won the next round and diverted all attention with his carefully calculated questions that threw people off his trail. Everyone except Mista.
Too bad Mista was shit at poker.
Still, he was determined to win at least one round, to ask Giorno just one thing about his life before the gang. There was so much he wanted to know but he didn't wanna go too far either and overstep things. Which meant he needed to craft a good question first before he won.
Narancia won the next one round with a pair of kings and looked at Giorno. "You bet more than one, so time to pay up!" he cried excitedly, and Mista wondered what kind of dumb shit he was gonna ask now. Instead, the question was actually something he was interested in knowing.
"Who do you take after? Like parents wise? I've been wondering about that a lot; you're really pretty so I bet your mom's a total babe, huh!"
Giorno seemed to pale at his words for a moment, a soft swallow following the bob of his Adam's apple before he looked at Narancia, any traces of discomfort gone. Mista frowned. He didn't like how Giorno reacted whenever his family was mentioned.
"I'm not quite sure," Giorno said at last. "Both, I suppose. First my mother and then later, my father."
Narancia cocked his head. "What does that mean? How can you be one then the other?"
"Is that your second question?"
Narancia seemed to consider that for a second before nodding, his curiosity winning out over whatever weird thing he'd thought up next.
"My hair color originally took after my mother," he explained. "It was black, like hers. Now that it's blond, I believe it's like my birth father's based on the picture I had of him."
"Wait, you dyed your hair?!" Trish exclaimed, moving forward to reach for Giorno's golden braid. "I can't even tell that it's dyed, it looks so pristine; who did your hair! I have to meet the stylist!"
"No one dyed it," Giorno said gently, pushing her hand away while looking vaguely uncomfortable. "It just turned blond one day. I believe it was due to Golden Experience being awakened for the first time, but I don't know for sure."
"…Well I guess stranger things have happened because of awakening Stands," Fugo wondered aloud, scratching his chin as he thought. "Wait, this means that you didn't awaken your Stand because of Polpo, or Bucciarati would've noticed when your hair changed colors. Were you pierced by the arrow at another time, or did you naturally have a Stand to begin with? If so, was it because of your father? Or was it-"
"Fugo, lay off the guy," Mista interrupted. Giorno looked strained, discomfort in his green eyes and an unnatural stiffness to his posture that seemed to otherwise go unnoticed by the others. "We already asked the two questions we got to and he answered."
"Ah, my apologies," Fugo seemed to back off instantly, withdrawing to the couch as he sat back down. "I got a bit too worked up."
"It's fine," Giorno replied with a soft smile, a hint of strain in the way the corners of his eyes crinkled up. "And I don't have all the answers you want anyway, as I'm not sure myself."
That was a lie, at least partially, but Mista didn't know what was true and what wasn't. Not when it came to Giorno.
"Should we play another round?" Narancia asked nervously, clearly disliking the tense atmosphere that had settled around the room.
"I should go check on the laundry," Giorno said and stood abruptly, heading towards the hall.
"Oh, Giorno, um, I'm sorry." That was Trish speaking now. "I shouldn't have tried to touch you without asking first."
Giorno paused in the doorway and turned back to smile gently, this time a seemingly genuine one. "It's alright, Trish. I know you meant nothing by it."
With that, he disappeared around the corner, leaving the other four still sitting around the deck of cards. They exchanged glances, coming to an unspoken decision.
"I'll go help him out," Mista said, standing as well.
"We'll keep playing here, so come join us again once you two finish," Fugo replied. Narancia and Trish nodded in agreement and Mista grinned.
"Will do. Let me know if I miss anything good." He headed from the room but remembered something else and poked his head around the corner long enough to add, "And no more questions about Giorno's family, got it?"
Narancia and Fugo nodded while Trish flashed him a thumbs up from where they sat, already absorbed in the next round of poker. Mista left again, satisfied.
Now then. Time to go find Giorno.
