Guido Mista sat on the corner of Giorno's desk glaring at the garish artwork depicting nothing but eyes and hands. He turned his head in the same manner of a confused puppy trying desperately to fathom why the boss bought this horrendous painting some dared to called art.

"I really hate this painting," Guido complained. "Why did you want this?"

"I have my reasons," Giorno replied vaguely, continuing to apply his signature to the stack of financial documents in front of him.

"Care to share those reasons?"

"No."

"Okay then," Guido sighed. "You could have put it somewhere else besides your office. Like the garage. Or a closet."

Giorno had purchased the piece then asked the director for her contact information. Ten thousand dollars later he received a slip of paper with a phone number on it along with the painting of his cryptic childhood memory.

"I met the artist," he announced as if that might change Guido's opinion of the painting.

"Oh?" Guido stood up, turning to face him with a cocked eyebrow. "Some weird guy wearing all black who likes long quiet walks in graveyards?"

"Actually, no." Giorno leaned back in his chair, reflecting on the memory of how the woman looked last night. "She is quite beautiful." His eyes shifted over to Guido's stunned face. "I wish you could have met her. You would have liked her."

"Hmph," he snorted like a grumpy old man, folding his arms over his chest stubbornly refusing to change his opinion. "I doubt it. This painting is freaky."

"Guido, I think I'm going to step out a bit for a gelato," he announced, standing up from his desk.

"I can go get it for you," Guido offered, sliding off of his perch.

"I need a break," Giorno insisted, standing up from his chair and stretching. "I could use a walk. Besides, this will give you time to get in some target practice. It's been a few days hasn't it?"

"Yeah, it has."

Guido pulled the six shooter revolver from the waistband of his pants. Giorno had stopped telling him years ago they make holsters which would be a much less dangerous way to carry the gun. How the man had not blown his dick off in all these years was still a mystery.

"Got your phone?" Guido inquired as he walked toward the back door of the office and Giorno went to the front.

"Right here, Mother Hen," he replied, patting the breast pocket of the suit jacket.

Of course he had his phone. Otherwise the main reason for this little outing would be pretty pointless. He had already put the number given to him into the phone in preparation to call her.

Once Giorno was officially off of his estate property and strolling down the sidewalk toward his favorite gelato stand, he pulled out his phone. He searched for the number he had labeled 'Angel' since he did not know her name. He stared at the digits for a little while, his thumb hovering over the green button with the phone handset on it.

"Mmmm, after gelato," he bargained to avoid admitting to himself he had chickened out. He tucked the phone back into coat his pocket.

He ordered his usual two scoops, one chocolate and one pistachio, on an ice cream cone. It was such a gorgeous day he might as well take a walk along the river. He decided to sit and watch the tourists being shuttled along the narrow canal in the gondolas because that was a necessary part of every foreigner's trip to Italy.

Once the scoop of pistachio was gone, he pulled out his phone again. Staring at the number made him queasy from apprehension. But he needed to know if that was truly her. Ignoring his somersaulting belly, he pressed the green button.

"Hello?"

He almost hung up as soon as he heard her voice. He had not thought about what he might say. Hi. Are you the woman who broke into the crappy apartment when I was a toddler to hold me and tell me I was a worthwhile human being when my shitty mother abandoned me to go partying? Oh, and by the way, why the hell do you look exactly the same when it's been over twenty years?

"Hello? Is anyone there?" she asked instead of hanging up.

"I - " His throat seemed to close up all at once. After inhaling a deep breath, he cleared his throat to try again. "I, ah, uhm...I don't know if you remember me, but..."

"Haruno," she said in a breathy whisper.

His feet became like blocks of lead stopping him dead in his tracks. The breath he drew in with some difficulty did not seem to reach his lungs.

"How do you know that name?" he demanded, pressing his hand against his heart to make sure it was still beating. "Who are you?"

"I'm a friend. I promise. I would never, ever, harm you," she assured him.

"Oh, my god...it is you."

There was a trilling of beeps when she disconnected the call. Giorno pulled back the phone to stare at the black screen. That was strange. CALL ENDED should be there or the home screen at least.

"Dammit," he hissed, resisting the urge to throw the phone into the canal.

It was then he realized the scoop of chocolate gelato had melted from the cone into a pool on the bench. How long had he been sitting here with the phone to his ear? Had he been having a seizure or something?

"Ugh," he groaned, annoyed and disappointed. She had hung up on him, and he lost his ice cream. Well, this really sucked.

After mopping up the melted gelato with the napkins that had been wrapped around the cone, he went to the garbage can to throw away the mess. Glancing around, preparing to leave to go home to wash his sticky hands, he saw a woman walking toward him.

She was wearing a white vintage Chanel suit edged in black. She wore a wide brimmed white hat with a black ribbon around it. Her blond hair was styled in sleek waves. The large round sunglasses covering her eyes completed the look as if she had stepped off the pages of a 1940s fashion magazine.

She held a cone of raspberry gelato in one white gloved hand which she daintily nibbled. In the other she carried another cone with two scoops. Approaching him, she extended the double scoop to him.

"Pistachio and chocolate right?" she inquired when he did not take it.

"Y-yeah," he stammered, reaching for the ice cream.

"Hold this for me, please," she politely requested, handing the dumbfounded man her cone of gelato as well.

Pulling the small handbag hanging from the bend of her elbow on a gold chain, she opened it to produce a stack of napkins. She held a few out to him, exchanging them for her ice cream.

"I thought you might need these," she said, licking the melting pink ball of ice cream to catch any drips before they fell onto her glove.

"I did. How did you know my favorite flavors?"

She shrugged and smiled. "I just know things."

"Uh huh." His knees felt a little unstable so he returned to the bench to take a seat.

She did not feel like a threat. Golden Experience had not reacted to her either time when in he was in her presence.

"Who are you?" Giorno asked as they ate their ice cream and looked out over the canal.

"My name is Liora," she replied not giving a last name.

She waved back at the tourists who waved from their gondola. He was relieved to know she was actually sitting beside him, and he was not hallucinating.

"That's a beautiful and unusual name," he complimented her.

"My father gave it to me. It means god's gift of light," she explained. She exhaled noisily as if agitated by the mention of her father. "He was a very vain and arrogant man. He thought he was a god." She thought for a minute then added, "His name was Dio...so I guess he wasn't exactly wrong."

"What are you?" Giorno inquired, taking a bite out of the scoop of chocolate.

Liora giggled. It was a cute sound that did not fit her polished and haughty appearance.

"That's a strange question, Ha-, uh, Giorno," she quickly corrected herself. "But I think I understand what you mean."

She sighed, pulling her sunglasses down her nose so he could see her eyes. At first her eyes were a warm golden brown. The color lightened then glowed like molten gold even in the bright sunlight. She smiled, her lips stretching and separating to reveal lengthy incisors with needle like points on top and bottom. Although pretty, she looked frighteningly vicious with her wolf like fangs bared.

Her eyes shifted upward when Golden Experience appeared. The Stand hovered protectively behind Giorno, not moving but ready to attack should she attempt to hurt him. Her smile did not waver but grew broader, her upper teeth pressing into her lower lip. She seemed pleased at seeing the Stand that materialized.

"Oh, I showed you mine so you showed me yours, huh?" she joked, giggling again. She stood up, leaning forward as if to get a better look at his Stand. "I'm jealous really. You got a fighting partner, a weapon, a physical manifestation of your will and spirit." She sucked her teeth and frowned, plopping back down on the bench. "All I got was these teeth. And a terrible appetite."

"So you are a vampire?"

"I told you I wasn't an angel."

"Fuck me," he muttered, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as dozens of questions bombarded his brain.

"That's quite an understated reaction. It's quite refreshing as opposed to the usual running away while screaming 'Ahhhh, a vampire. Please don't kill me,'" she stated mockingly, waving her hands in feigned panic. "You don't seem the least bit disturbed by what you just saw," she remarked, pushing her sunglasses back up to cover her eyes. "Apparently you've seen some shit, Giorno Giovanna."

"You have no idea," he mumbled, opening his eyes to glance at her. He observed the fangs retreating back into her gums to become normal sized incisors again. "Hmmm. Retractable?"

"Yep," she confirmed.

"Interesting." He shielded his eyes from the dazzling midday sun. "And you're out in the sun so I'm guessing you're only half vampire."

"Very observant, young man. Good old Dad was the blood sucker. Mom was just a dumb human who had the bad luck of crossing his path and warming his bed which resulted in a half breed. Somehow she managed to avoid his wrath and his teeth until she was in labor. He refrained from killing her until after I was born which enabled me to be born alive with at least part of my humanity intact," she explained, finishing off the rapidly melting gelato.

Giorno was a little taken aback by the emotionless and succinct way she summed up her entire origin. He winced when she reached over to pinch his cheek like spinster aunts do to their small adorable nephews.

"I knew you'd be intelligent. I'm so proud of you."

Giorno could tell she was not talking down to him or being sarcastic. However, she was speaking to him as if she were an old lady, and he was nothing more than a mere child. She looked exactly like she did when she came to him about twenty two years ago.

"How old are you?" he boldly questioned her. "You look about my age, but how old are you actually? Do you age? Are you immortal?"

"I'm not immortal," she answered stoically without laughing to avoid embarrassing him. "I age, just very, very slowly. Physically, I am in my mid twenties," she admitted, pausing to take a big bite of the ice cream cone with a crunch and a distinct click when her teeth snapped together.

Giorno shuddered to think about her canid teeth with needle like points sinking down into someone's neck with that much bite force. Shaking his head, he dispelled the morbid thought of her sucking someone's blood.

"But chronologically..."

The two words hung in the heavy air between them as he waited with bated breath for her answer. Liora shrugged, dusting the crumbs from her gloves.

"I'm a little older."

"Guess you've seen some shit too?" he returned, giving her a mischievous smile.

"Hah," she scoffed. "Nice try my sneaky friend, but I won't tell you what kinds of things because then you could get an idea of my age."

"Dammit. You're pretty smart too," he chuckled lightly.

Giorno found her easy to talk to. He found her presence comforting and familiar like being with an old friend. In an extremely weird way, she kind of was an old friend.

He noticed the way she looked at him, her odd little grin displaying the emotions of pride and sadness making the corners of her red lips twitch.

"Where did my cute little dark haired baby go?" Her fingertips skimmed over his sculpted cheekbone and down to his angular jawline. "You look so much like him now."

"Who?" Giorno asked, confused as to who she was referring.

"Well, I should go. It's not safe for me to be out here much longer," Liora sniffed, standing up swiftly. If she was crying, those huge sunglasses hid her eyes and her tears from him.

"Wait," he said, standing up along with her and taking hold of her forearm. "I want to know more. I need to know more. Why did you come find me that night? Why did you not come back until now? Where have you been?"

"We'll talk again very soon," she said, attempting to pull her arm away.

His fingers almost enclosed her entire forearm to hang on to her in case she might try to vanish right before his eyes.

"When? How will I find you?"

"Soon," she assured him, giving him a sweet smile. "You have my number."

In the black patent leather heels she was almost as tall as him. Just an inch or two shy of six feet, she stepped a little closer to him in order to brush the tip of her nose across the end of his.

"Besides, I'll find you," she promised, cupping his cheek. "Just like I always have."

Giorno pressed his hand over her gloved one, wishing he could feel the warmth of her skin against his. Her touch had soothed him when he was a child. She had made a lonely child feel special, wanted, and loved with a simple stroke of her fingertips.

After giving him one last smile, a sad one on quivering lips, she pulled her hand from under his and hurried away. He could not help but smile as he watched her prissy retreat on the thin heeled stilettos. She crossed the street and disappeared amid the flow of people on the sidewalk.