"You have a stand now!? Holy shit- that's crazy! Congrats GioGio!"

Giorno to smiled brightly up at Formaggio. Delicately hugging his shoulder was his newly awoken stand. It mimicked him and stared up at the hitman, albeit its lens eyes were vacant of any actual emotion. Giorno hadn't had his stand for more than a day but, as Risotto had said, resummoning it was instinctive. He willed it and the golden being appeared. He could already move it as he wished. Though, there wasn't much to do with it at the moment. It was only present to showcase it to his adoptive uncle.

Formaggio eagerly looked the new stand over, taking in the details. Not every day he saw a kid manifest one and this one was certainly a work of art. Its form was completely golden, to the point it almost seemed to radiate light. "Looks really nice." He looked to the boy curiously. "Named it yet?"

Giorno nodded. "Gold Experience."

"Damn," Formaggio seemed impressed, "Nice name." He grinned, head tilted back, looking eager. "Wanna see my stand?"

This easily excited Giorno, he nodded his head with an excitement only a child could employ, "Yeah!"

The excitement readily transferred to the adult. He clapped his hands together, all too eager to show off. "Alright then!"

Up from behind him manifested a metallic blue, humanoid figure. The color matched its seemingly robotic nature. Bolts, metal plating, and segmented joints, made up the sum of the stand's appearance. Contrast to the blue were striking green eyes. Unlike the friendlier countenance of Formaggio, at least towards Giorno himself, the demeanor of the stand was a stagnate scowl. Extending from its right pointer finger was a long green claw, the same shade as its eyes.

Formaggio framed the presence of his stand with his hands, presenting it to the child, "This is my stand: Little Feet!"

While amazed by the sight of a new stand, Giorno quirked a brow at the name, "Why do you call it that?"

Formaggio pointed to the stand's claw. "Anything that claw scratches, will begin to shrink-"

"-Too slowly to be useful."

The sudden add in caught Giorno by surprise and immediately aggravated Formaggio. In a snap, he whipped his head to the full-length mirror in the entrance way of his apartment. There next to it was the mirror assassin, Illuso. Formaggio growled, "Nobody asked for your damn input Illuso-and why the hell are you here?"

"I can say what I want." Illuso remarked snidely, nose upturned. He smirked at the irate growl he received before he explained his presence. His thumb jerked to the mirror beside himself. "I went over to Sorbet and Gelato's and saw they weren't home."

"They went to pursue a lead on the La Meravigli bastards." Formaggio stiffly explained, arms crossed and limply hung over his knees as he sat crouched on his feet.

Illuso nodded that he knew. "Yeah, called Risotto and he let me know. He's out with Prosciutto and Pesci, taking a break for once in a blue moon- and I overheard that the kid got a stand. Decided to check that out, and you are his babysitter."

Formaggio's expression dull to annoyance, unimpressed. "Really going to keep riding that one, huh?"

Illuso shrugged bemusedly. "Some jokes don't get old."

Little Feet vanished as Formaggio rolled his eyes.

Giorno was left somewhat surprised it hadn't escalated as it usually did. Though, it wasn't about his stand or their job anymore. The topic had shifted to him. From previous interactions, Giorno deduced that it didn't bother Formaggio to be prodded about looking after him, like it did for the prior two topics. He took this with light appreciation.

He blinked when Illuso walked away from the mirror to approach him. Giorno looked up at the fellow red-eyed adult over for his mood and intent. Out of all the La Squadra members, Illuso had warmed up the least to him. It was clear that he only tolerated him due to his relation with Risotto. From what he could gleam, there was an intrigue but he was also gauging him in some way. In turn, Giorno restrained his expression to a more neutral one as naturally as he could. Not well enough, Illuso noted this by way of a lifted brow.

"Gotta say, this is the first time I've seen a ten-year-old with a stand." While, what he said would usually be in an impressed tone Illuso only sounded offhandedly so. He held a moment of pause, "Though, Gelato says he always had his, but I think he's bullshitting."

Still crouched in front of the boy, Formaggio's head perked up, "Oh yeah, that totally slipped my mind."

This caught Giorno's curiosity, "Gelato's always had his stand?"

Illuso side-eyed him, pondering whether to answer or not. He dismissively flicked a ponytail over his shoulder and strode over to the kitchen area. Giorno frowned but didn't stress the question. He'd ask Gelato or Sorbet the question later, they'd give him an outline of how things occurred. No big deal.

"What's its power?"

Giorno blinked out of his train of thought and gave a reflexive response. "What?"

A tone of annoyance laced Illuso's voice as he reiterated, "Your Stand, what's it's power?"

Question readily heard this time, Giorno answered, "It makes plants grow."

The flat expression that formed on Illuso's face told the boy he wasn't impressed with the ability. Illuso pulled a water bottle from the fridge and cracked the top off. He remarked with faint amusement, "At the least, you'll be able to help Gelato in his garden." Illuso scoffed, and took a swig of water. "Risotto is drinking over nothing."

"Wait, leader's drinking?" Formaggio questioned suddenly, a look of surprise overcoming him. He rubbed the back of his head, "Damn...this must be bothering him."

It didn't take much for Giorno to figure out why this would be. He'd seen it in Risotto since he took him in. His hesitation for him to engage in what they were doing to any degree, keeping him at arm's length of it; however possible, and upon him gaining a stand. Risotto had stared at his stand once it manifested and only gave brisk 'well done' in reply to his success. Afterwards, he stayed deep in thought before dropping him off here. The reaction had bothered Giorno and made it all the more pressing for him to know the reason why.

"Why does Risotto not what me to get involved with Passione?" His abrupt question drew the attention of the two hitmen.

Illuso tsked sharply. "What sort of question is that? You know what we do."

"Yeah." Formaggio added in slowly. He thought for a moment over how to put this. "It's not a job aspiration for most uh, parental figures to want their kids to join."

Giorno was undeterred and pressed on. "Pesci is Prosciutto's younger brother, and he's going to be allowed to join soon."

"We'll see about that." Illuso snorted amusedly before he took another swig of water.

"That's different." Formaggio responded as he stood up and scratched his head. "Prosciutto is the one that wants him to join, not leader."

This answer only added more fuel to Giorno's desire for an explanation. "Why not? He's the leader of a squadron. Why wouldn't he want more to join the gang?"

It wasn't that he was so much as critical of this disconnect. This apparent reluctance to strengthen the numbers of the group he was a part of. Just the strangeness of it. By far, Risotto was loyal in every other capacity from what Giorno had seen. He was dedicated and executed missions with proficient efficacy. This was the only point of contention.

"What's the reason for him being so reluctant about younger people joining?" Giorno elaborated further.

A silence settled between the two adults. Illuso stayed quiet and strode into the living room while nursing his water. Formaggio answered, partially, after a rough sigh. "GioGio, neither of us can answer that for you. That's something we've all wondered about. At best, I learned from Prosciutto that it has something to do with leader's past. What that is, I don't know. I do know that leader doesn't like to talk about it. Leave it be, okay? Especially right now."

So that's it, because of his own joining. Giorno ascertained. He mulled over the situation, when would he want to ask Risotto? Definitely not now. He wouldn't want to stress the atmosphere between them further. There was still plenty of time until he was old enough to join. By the time he was eighteen, he'd have plenty of time to learn why. No doubt if he waited patiently, Risotto would tell him on his own. Yes, he could wait.

Giorno nodded. "Okay."

Formaggio smiled to his understanding and ruffled his hair. "Good kid. Now why don't we go test your stand out? I wanna see it in action, you good with that?"

To this, Giorno perked right up. "Yeah! I want to see just what I can make with it!"

"Alright! Now tell me, does it need soil or can they just grow from anything?"

The sound of the bar was lively as to be expected. Patrons were rowdy amongst their own groups, the occasional yell for more drinks or at the TV which showed a football match that was occurring. Despite the odd variety of dress, the trio of Risotto, Proscuitto, and Pesci went unnoticed by the rest of the patrons. They sat in the back corner, to keep the personal conversation private as possible while in public. After the recent reveal, Prosciutto had known he'd find him here, holed up in the back, and shoved Pesci into the booth before seating himself. Risotto didn't protest, too internally hung up within himself. That and the effort would be wasteful.

While Prosciutto talked to his superior, and friend, Pesci minded himself with this food- him being too young to partake in alcohol, at least legally in public, nor wanting to. Anxiously he watched his brother try and talk their leader, well, his unofficial future leader, out of his despondent mood.

"Godammit-you're acting like the kids already shot some bastard down." Prosciutto huffed as he side-eyed his friend. Risotto continued to stare down at his drink. Seeming to both look through it and deny it being there to begin with. Gritting his teeth, Proscuitto fought the urge start yelling. This wasn't his fratellino. As as much as Risotto's unresponsiveness was ticking him off, he still held respect for his position. Even once restrained himself, Proscuitto's words still bared a sharp edge of irratation, "The kid's ten. He's got a good while before you'll let him join up. You know this, hell, pretty sure he knows this."

"It's the inevitability I'm concerned with." Risotto answered before he took a long drag of the liquor. He hated every moment of the bitter taste, but it was the only thing that could calm his nerves at the moment. An occasional drink was fine, but this would be his second pint and he knew another would follow. He despised how it made his precise movements sloppy and sharp perceptiveness dull. He hated how it made him feel like he'd become his aunt, or worse yet Maialino.

He took another swig.

Risotto clenched his grip around the handle of the mug. His frustration turned towards himself. The sudden shudder of his fork in his hand caused Pesci to jump in his seat. Proscuitto slipped his gaze down to his unused utensils. It was slight, but they were definitely jittering in place. Being pulled by magnetism towards Risotto. Metallica was responding to its user's stress. Proscuitto frowned, the larger man's frame was mimicking the forks, spoons and knives with restrained trembling.

"If I'd had control of my nerves, he wouldn't be in this situation to begin with." Risotto berated to himself.

Prosciutto scoffed and waved the idea away. "Yeah, and being left with a sack of crap for a father-in-law is better. You know that bastard was going behind your back and beating him like a dog. I'd say GioGio is better with us." He laughed, shaking his head at the irony. "Sad, considering our line of work, but true in this case."

"GioGio really likes staying with you. He's always happy to see you." Pesci helpfully added in, though he was somewhat meek at the start.

"Exactly!" Prosciutto exclaimed, hand smacking the table. He pointed sharply to his superior, "You can't honestly wish he was back with that jackass."

Risotto took another drink of the foul, soothing, bile and exhaled through his nose. No, he didn't wish Giorno was back with that pathetic excuse for a guardian. The man had used the poor child to get to his negligent mother, then abused him for the crime of not being blood to begin with. It still boiled his own blood to think of it. What a pathetic reason to mistreat a child. To beat them because a fault not of their own.

Something he sympathized heavily with.

He saw himself in the same position the boy had been in. Hurt and unwanted, alone. Helping him was a way for him to prevent another turning out the way he had. Something he had failed in doing so.

"No, I don't." Risotto admitted as he firmly rubbed the bridge of his nose and brow. "As I said, it's the inevitability." He frowned deeply, hand holding his jaw. He recalled the times of Giorno acutely listening on how to gain a stand and his general attentiveness around the group. He was learning what he could whenever possible. The determination was unlike anything he'd seen in someone so young. "He's set on this."

"How are you so certain? I'll give it that GioGio is smart, but why would a kid's goal be to join up with Passione? Does he have any familial ties?" Prosciutto questioned, a note of curiosity in his voice. That'd be something he could relate to.

"No." The thought of Giorno's biological father caused Risotto to look off to the side, uncertain. "Least, not that I know of. I don't know why this is his aim. It seems to be that way since our first meeting. Perhaps it's simply, like you said, when I first brought him in, that it's because I improved his life. He sees our organization in a good light. But, Giorno is perceptive enough that I don't think he's that ignorant of our world."

Prosciutto mulled this over. Giorno was, indeed, a very perceptive child for his age. There was no way he didn't know about the drug trade. Hell, Proscuitto wouldn't be surprise if his step-dad did drugs himself. Though, Risotto never mentioned such. Regardless, no way the boy didn't know. Was it simply a way of thanking his savior? Possibly; however, he wasn't willing to present such a thought to Risotto while he was in duress. Instead, he prompted, "Then, what?"

Risotto sighed and polished off the drink in. He looked at the empty pint, he was going to need another. He could think of nothing else, "I'll question him about this at a later time. We'll see if he keeps his eyes set on this with age."

Things seemed to be settled now. This could be seen as the utensil were idle as they should be and Risotto's own tremors had ceased. Pesci smiled a little at this. "Are you good now, leader?"

The genuine concerned tone from the teen garnered a faint smile from Risotto. Though his soft nature was ill-fitting of a, possible, future hitman, it helped in these sorts of matters. He sighed, the drain of his stress still felt, "Relatively speaking, yes. I'll have one more drink; however, but I'm cutting off after that."

"One more won't hurt ya." Proscuitto asserted as he waved down a waitress, knowing his leader's attitude towards excess drinking he'd not be so much pleased but whatever would settle him more. One of them would have to get him home. No way in hel,l Risotto would drive slightly intoxicated, considering what'd happened to his sister-cousin. Hell would freeze over before that'd ever happen.

Risotto grunted his consent to this. He sat there, focus on his thoughts until the waitress took his refill. Once topped back off, he perked when his phone suddenly went off in his coat pocket. Knowing only few select individuals had his number, he answered immediately, "Yes?" Proscuitto and Pesci tuned in attentively when he addressed the caller, "Ah, Sorbet, have you found what you were looking for?"

Proscuitto turned his attention to his food but his ears kept focus on the call. No doubt the bloodhound Sorbet had gotten a lead. So soon after they'd revealed Giorno's stand too. The man was efficient in searching for information. He always ran background checks for any new members of the squadron. The only thing he hadn't dug up was anything concerning the boss and that was out of respect for the mob head.

"Good to hear." Risotto continued after a momentary pause as he listened to Sorbet, "I look forward to hearing how things went."