It had taken another hour after that but the group was finally on the move again and Mista couldn't be more glad for it. He'd felt strangely apprehensive after staying in one place for so long, like not being on the move just wasn't right.
Even throughout the communication with that mysterious stranger, Mista couldn't help but feel antsy, itching to get moving once again.
He'd watched Giorno's reaction to seeing the arrow, everyone else focused on the call itself rather than the listeners and he'd seen the way the blond had tensed up, eyes sparkling in an odd sort of recognition.
"You and I must meet in person," the baritone voice had crackled over the comms, laced with some sort of accent Mista couldn't quite place.
Mista got the feeling that maybe it wasn't Bucciarati the man was talking to.
Everything had passed quickly after that, the despair that had been rising with each dead end and failed lead now replaced with a strange sort of foreboding excitement. Bucciarati had instructed Fugo and Giorno to return to their vehicle and gather what little items they'd left inside it while Narancia and Mista himself were sent to find a boat that could take them back to the mainland.
The beach further down the coast was swarming with tourists, completely oblivious to the carnage that had taken place just hundreds of meters away. Mista had seen what looked like a family, a woman and a man with four little boys, and was reminded of the only time his parents had taken them all to the beach. His sister had almost drowned and they'd never gone again. Seeing this family now, he wondered if that was the sort of thing he'd missed out on simply because his parents couldn't watch them well enough. "There's just so many of you," his mom had sighed when he'd asked later if they could at least go to the pool together. Mista wasn't sure if that was the problem or if it was the fact that his dad drank all the time and his mom had her hands full with that.
While searching for a boat with Narancia, Mista allowed himself to think about what would happen if he went on a beach vacation with the gang. Bucciarati and Abbacchio sipping vintage wine in lounge chairs beneath a large umbrella while he, Fugo, and Narancia got into a squirt gun fight in the shallow water near the beach. Digging into whatever food Bucciarati would've packed like it was a picnic, having races in the salty water, playing beach volleyball and showing off his mean spiking skills.
Sunbathing next to Giorno, with the gleaming sunlight alighting the blond's hair so it glowed like spun gold, that pale expanse of skin being shown off tanning under the harsh summer sun, turning onto his back as the sand slipped through Giorno's fingers and toes, having to shower to get it all off, maybe letting Mista shower with him-
He needed to save that line of thought for when he didn't have a mission to do and got some time off. Preferably spent in a bathroom. Alone.
Still maybe once this was all over, he'd suggest going there to the others.
Narancia had caught his attention just seconds later, pointing at a white and black speed boat that looked big enough to hold up to four people maximum. It was perfect.
The boat was tied along a vacant dock and likely belonged to some of the beachgoers who were far too busy frolicking in the sun and sea to even notice if they were stranded until it was much too late. Narancia ran back to get the others while Mista set to scoping the vehicle out and preparing to hotwire it - or whatever hotwiring a boat was called.
The engine was outboard on the stern, so Mista could access it easily enough without drawing too much attention to himself. He checked to see if there was actually gas in the tank and then examined the control panel, cursing when he saw the dead man's switch was a key switch that the owner had just so happened to take with them to wherever they went on Sardegna. Too bad they were getting robbed by someone who actually knew boats, and it only took Mista a minute to find something that would function the same way, a small piece of plastic broken off from the bow of the boat.
That was all it really needed; it ran on diesel so he could just use the starter cord once the others arrived. Musta been an old sailboat that was refitted with a motor, Mista mused while he waited for them. That or whoever made it was hella cheap, to not make it run electronically when it was already the twenty first century.
It wasn't long before Narancia was racing back towards him with Coco Jumbo tucked safely under his arm.
Once the boy hopped aboard, Mista pulled out the choke and yanked the starter cord with all he had. It only took five tugs (thank God it wasn't four) before it roared to life. After untying the mooring ropes, he engaged the forward and off they went.
"How do you do boats?" Narancia asked, chin in his hands as he watched Mista maneuver the motorboat past the dock in a lazy half loop before cranking the forward to pick up speed.
"Same as everything else," he answered. "Ya find a hole and drill it."
Narancia frowned, digging around in the duffel bag to find the hotwiring kit they kept. After searching it, he looked up as he said, "But we don't have a-"
"Exactly."
It was almost cute watching the wheels slowly spinning in that tiny brain of Narancia's until the moment of recognition flashed through his violet eyes. His face twisted into a scowl of disgust before settling into a smirk and Mista wondered just what he'd thought of now.
"I thought you were just a metal fucker," Narancia said teasingly. "Seeing as you want Giorno to give you his Gold Experience 'n all."
"One more word outta you and I'll-"
Mista didn't get the chance to finish his sentence before a shiver ran down his spine and the hairs on the backs of his arms stood up. He swung around to stare furiously at the now-vanishing beach, searching for whoever it was. It was unmistakable; he'd recognize that feeling anywhere.
"Mista?" Narancia's voice sounded nervous. "What's wrong?"
Mista was silent for a few seconds, hoping he could pick out whoever it had been but to no avail. With a grunt of distaste, he fell back into his seat beside the controls.
"Someone was watching us," he growled. "I could feel it. Couldn't see who the hell it was though."
"Maybe it was the guys who own the boat?"
Mista glanced at Narancia's hopeful expression before nodding briefly. He didn't think so but there was no point in saying that now. They wouldn't be going back, even if he had seen who it was, not when they had a destination and had been running on borrowed time for days now. Plus Mista didn't like the idea of stressing Narancia out- or riling him up, or maybe even both at the same time. Who knew with that kid.
"Yeah, you're probably right," Mista said with a shrug of forced nonchalance. "Also, if ya get to tease me about Giorno, what about you practically sitting in Fugo's lap earlier?"
"At least I wasn't the one getting a lap dance," Narancia shot back defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. "You and Giorno are so DP- PA- PAD-"
"PDA?"
"Yeah, that's it!"
Mista snorted. "I hardly think it's as public as you two holding hands."
"You guys slept in the same bed!"
"You and Fugo pretty much did the same thing."
"Well at least we weren't the ones openly flirting at breakfast that one time."
"Should I remind you about that romantic walk in the woods you both took?"
"You- You-" and, clearly reaching for ideas, Narancia burst out, "You did the laundry together!"
"And how is that at all PDA?"
"I don't know but I'm sure you found a way!" Narancia huffed angrily. "It was probably just an excuse to go jerk it; you're as horny as those big dinosaur bones Fugo told me that they have in the Milano museum!"
"I have no clue what the fuck you're talking about," Mista answered. "And jokes on you, I've been abstinent for two whole months now."
"Absti- what?"
"Haven't had sex," Mista sighed. "Not since Amelie walked outta my life."
"Was she that one French girl?" Narancia asked after clearly thinking about it for a while. Mista didn't think he'd been with that many women but damn, if the kid's gotta think about it, maybe he should get himself tested sometime? Nah, surely it was just Narancia's pea-sized brain that was the problem.
"The one and only," Mista nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he remembered the deft slap she'd given him before storming off. "And all because she didn't wanna be with a guy with so much hair! Who sees chest hair and thinks 'gross'?! I thought French chicks didn't shave?! I shoulda been a catch!"
"Yeah, a catch," Narancia snorted. "That's what you are. Sure. Y'know, Giorno's way too good for you, Mista."
"No shit," Mista said. "But if he seems to not think so, then I'm all for it."
Narancia rested his elbows on the side of the boat, staring out at the ocean waves, the wind buffeting his dark hair from beneath that weird orange bandana he always wore.
"It's nice to see you serious though," the boy said softly and Mista was surprised for a second before he broke into a grin.
"Thanks little man." Mista ruffled his hair, messing it up even further despite Narancia's very loud, very obnoxious protests otherwise.
"It's not funny!" Narancia cried in irritation. "You were gonna get some disease, y'know! Fugo told me about this one that basically makes your skin melt off and gives you all these ugly sores on your face and I was too scared to even touch down there for weeks after that!"
"…You know you can't give STDs to yourself?"
"I know that now," Narancia grumbled.
"Wait, how'd you piss-"
"Stop talking!" the brunet shrieked, slamming his hands over Mista's mouth so suddenly that the gunman almost lost his balance from where he sat on the bench. He grabbed Narancia's arms and shoved them off him, coughing and sputtering.
"Don't touch my mouth after that!" he yelled. "I dunno where your damn hands have been! Besides down Fugo's pants."
"N-No, it's not- we aren't like that!" Narancia instantly protested and Mista's smirk fell. That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. He thought it was obvious that they both liked each other and he'd never really thought more other than that but it seems like maybe Narancia hadn't either. Or, judging by the boy's blushing face, maybe it was something else.
"Don't you like him?" Mista asked, trying to pick his words carefully here. It was entirely possible that Narancia would shut down and not answer any questions and how could Mista possibly be a good wingman with the boy acting like that?
"Of course I do," Narancia said, shooting Mista a look as if the gunman was crazy. "Fugo's my friend."
"Not- fucking hell," Mista cursed. "I meant, like, more than that. Y'know?"
"Like best friends?"
"No," Mista answered. "Also, rude, I thought I was your best friend! You're getting an automatic demotion to just 'acquaintance' status for that. Also, anyone ever told you you're dumb as hell?"
"At least I went to school!" Narancia cried.
"And yet I know all the multiplication tables and you don't. Says so much about our education system, huh. Anyways, first, fuck you, second… uh… let's see, how do I wanna say this? Look, when you look at Fugo, what's the first thing you think?"
"Well if I'm mad at him," Narancia thought carefully, "then I think that I wanna kill him. But if I'm not mad at him, then I get excited!"
"And why do you get excited?"
"Because Fugo's my best friend!"
"Fuck, that asshole's gonna owe me for this one," Mista muttered to himself.
"What?"
"Nothing! Nothing at all," he responded with fake joy. Time to try a different approach. "Okay, here, let's do this. You hug Bucciarati all the time, right?"
"As much as he lets me!" Narancia confirmed with a sharp nod of his head. "Which isn't much because Abbacchio always looks mad when I do."
"How do you feel when Bucciarati hugs you?"
Narancia got a happy look on his face as he recounted, "It feels so nice! So warm and good and it's just like what my mom used to do for me. It makes me feel safe. And loved."
Normally, Mista would lay into him for being such a cheeseball and saying such dumb, sappy things, but now was not the time for that. Right now, Mista was on a mission. A Narancia-is-an-idiot-Fugo-owes-me-to-the-moon-and-back mission. Plus it reminded Mista of Narancia's home life before he joined the gang and that was always enough to get the gunman eager to land a bullet between the boy's asshole-of-a-father's eyes.
"Okay. Now think about hugging Fugo. How does that feel?"
"B-But Fugo doesn't hug me."
"I have seen him do it when you both think no one's looking, you little fucking asshole, just answer the damn question. I'm not teasing you about it right now."
Narancia shot him a dirty glare before looking down at the floor of the boat. He seemed to be thinking about it, which was more than Mista could hope for, and hopefully the boy didn't short circuit his tiny brain.
"Well," Narancia began slowly. "It's kind of like hugging Bucciarati. It feels good. And nice. And it's warm but not like family-warm, like an inside warm that starts in my stomach and spreads everywhere and it's really nice. But also kind of weird because it makes me feel embarrassed, like Fugo might be able to tell I get all warm like that."
"And you haven't once thought about why they both feel different?"
"I didn't think I needed to?" Narancia's reply was clearly a question and honestly, how did this kid function for this long. Mista knew he hadn't learned most of what guys their age had, but how was he this detached from his emotions? No, that wasn't the word, Mista decided. Dense. Fugo just had to go and like the densest guy in the team, probably all of Passione. Fuckin' figures.
"Well maybe you should," Mista suggested, deciding that his work was done for now. Besides, they were nearing the mainland and were only about a few minutes out from shore and it was better the conversation ended before the others got out of the turtle.
Narancia frowned, clearly wanting more of an explanation to that, but to Mista's surprise, he held his tongue and turned his attention to the land that was coming into view in the distance.
"Where are you gonna stop?" he asked.
"Wherever there's an empty dock," Mista replied. I'll beach the damn thing if I have to but it'd be better if we found a place that was near a car park."
Narancia nodded and disappeared inside the turtle, likely to tell the others that they were getting close to shore and to ask what they were doing next.
A minute later, Bucciarati's voice echoed out of the top of the turtle instructing Mista to proceed with his plan of finding a vacant dock and to let them know once he'd tied them down, so as to avoid filling the boat with too many passengers and to make sure any potential passersby would only notice one person on the boat.
Mista directed the motorboat along the shoreline, far enough out at sea that people on the docks would think he was just boating like normal but close enough that he could see the wooden docks sticking out into the ocean.
It wasn't long before he came across one that was partially secluded on one side by a long stretch of sand and rocks that cut into the sea with a stark white beach that quickly merged into a thick treeline. Probably some kind of dock within a park or something, and where there was a dock, there was a path leading to it. A path that inevitably led to a car park. The exact kind of thing they were looking for.
He slowly steered the boat towards the dock, pulling up beside it with the ease of someone who had wanted to buy his own boat for years now and name it 'Sex Pistol No. 8.' And sure enough, he could see a small dirt trail leading into the woods.
Once the boat was moored, he hopped out of it and said into the turtle, "All clear, boss. We got what looks like a walking trail out here. What now?"
A second later, a blond head popped out of Coco Jumbo followed by the rest of Giorno's flawless body. Mista was a little surprised that he'd come out instead of Bucciarati, but he sure as hell didn;t mind.
"Bucciarati said to follow the path until we either come to a map or a car park and then report back to him," Giorno informed him. "And I thought you might like some company."
Mista grinned. "Not exactly the romantic forest date I woulda planned but hey. I ain't complaining."
Giorno smiled in amusement at him and it only made Mista's grin widen.
"Ah, hold on, I got the perfect thing," Mista said.
Sex Pistols appeared at his side as he pulled out his gun and pointed it directly at the motorboat. "You guys know what to do," he said, met with excited squeals from the Pistols as he fired his gun.
Hooking an arm around Giorno's waist, he led the blond towards the woods as the boat exploded behind them with a massive fwoosh and a rush of smoke billowing out of it.
"See?" Mista smirked. "Now we got some romantic lighting."
"Such a casanova," Giorno teased, and Mista was pleased to feel the blond pressing against his side instead of pulling away from his grip.
"Just you wait," Mista said confidently. "I'll sweep you offa your feet one'a these days."
