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

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[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.