RYSLIG INBOX

[grilletto]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, GUIDO MISTA. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 018.07.154.55 *** RICOCHET has joined 018.07.154.55 <RICOCHET> oh shit this thing works <RICOCHET> sweet <RICOCHET> uhhhh leave me a message i guess <RICOCHET> pretty sure that's what this is supposed to be for

TEXT ♜ VOICE ♜ MAILBOX

Comments

[grilletto]

you don't have to do anything in exchange
my job is to keep you safe, right?
and right now that means teaching you how to shoot

[ there's a moment, mista strangely touched that giorno would want to bring the pistols back first but even he knew that wasn't the best move for any of them ]

i'll have to see your impression of them first
if it's good enough then gold experience comes first

north sounds good to me though, maybe somewhere ne of the lake
i don't know how good your aim is gonna be so we probably need a lot of space.

[digiorno]

i know. thank you.

[It was more the principle of the thing, that he was worried about Mista's safety too, but — Mista was right. He usually was.]

yes, i want to make sure to be safe. i don't want to scare any of the kids either. actually, can you give me about an hour? that's enough time for me to get a target, if you don't mind finding a space that fits your parameters.

[grilletto]

i can wait as long as you need me to
but an hour works, give us both enough time to get ready

[digiorno]

you let me get away with too much, you know.

[It's mostly a joke. He appreciates being indulged.]

i'll see you shortly.

[And an hour later found him in roughly the location discussed, a cloth bag at his side, wafting his hands at a not-very-neat sheet of plyboard with drawn-on arms and legs poking out of a decent-but-not-great target. Just above the target is a bit of fleece shaped like a weird pink toupee with a floppy bang and a small braid.]

[Yes, he had absolutely spent the last hour doing this.]

[grilletto]

i let you get away with just enough
see you soon

[ Mista had already made sure the rest of the area was clear, safe enough for them and for anyone else that might have been around. He hadn't quite made it back when he saw Giorno setting up that target, watching curiously before he sauntered over and slung an arm casually over his shoulder. ]

When you said you needed a target I wasn't expecting something this...

[ Elaborate? Weird? There was one thing in particular that needed to be addressed, though, completely letting go of that word search in his head. ]

...so what's up with the wig?

[digiorno]

[Leaning into the warmth of Mista's body was automatic, a comfortable familiarity he took as a given now; he didn't even look up as he approached, because he recognized the sound of Mista's steps. His lips quirking up at the corners, he huffed out a quiet laugh at the question.]

Motivation. I was trying to make it look a little like Doppio. I'm not much for crafts, though.

[Frankly, elaborate and weird would both work in this case.]

[grilletto]

[ Really elaborate and weird would have been the only way to describe this, Mista huffing out a gentle breath of laughter as he leaned in to get a better look at the target. Was he going to remove himself from Giorno? No, he'll just hang there and pull him forward just a little. ]

Doppio...?

[ Somewhere in there he was sure it was a name he'd heard, even if it was in passing. Maybe...he probably should have been able to recall it but for now he focused on flicking a finger against the surface of the board. ]

Seems steady enough, at least, give yourself a little more credit.

[digiorno]

Mm. Our truce friend.

[There was absolutely no sarcasm in this statement and yet somehow it dripped with sarcasm just implicitly. Wild.]

[Still, it was almost comical the way he perked up at Mista's approval. He hadn't honestly expected it, so it was rewarding, considering he'd been blundering forward more or less blindly on this project.]

Is it? I didn't think it would be. That's . . . good. [He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't not smiling, either.] You think it'll do?

[grilletto]

[ It was endearing the way that he'd taken such a simple compliment, Mista turning his attention away from the target and back to Giorno with a gentle prod of a finger to his chest. ]

Yeah, of course it'll do! We're gonna shoot it, not take it out on a date.

[ It was a statement followed by a huff of laughter as he pulled him away from the target again. Just far enough to move him away from it, gesturing toward it loosely. ]

He's here, isn't he? That's why you got the guns so fast.

[digiorno]

[Wow, rude, with the poking. Grinning, he was on the verge of making some snappy comeback when Mista . . . did what Mista always did and saw through him completely. His smile faded slightly, and he nodded.]

I trust Bucciarati, but I can't . . . It already didn't feel right, being here without our Stands, and to know there's an enemy so close, one tied up with Diavolo at that—

[With a glance at the target, he shifted his weight, pursing his lips in a sharp frown of concentration. He wasn't hesitating because he was trying to persuade Mista of anything; most likely Mista understood his feelings better than he did himself, as was usually the case. It was about articulating himself, about putting it into words that made sense.]

I can't afford to offer someone like that the benefit of the doubt. People depend on me, even here. If there's the slightest chance that he might hurt you or Bucciarati, or anyone here who happens to get in the way, I need to be ready to deal with it. I can't stand sitting around helpless.

[Raising his eyes, he considered Mista through his lashes, not exactly smiling but also not not smiling.]

Besides, seeing you walk around without a gun seems indecent.