Chapter Text
"Around The World is a drinking game. I've also heard it called Charleston Special, Chico High Low, Monkey Balls and Irish Poker, but Around The World is what I prefer to call it." Marsala hissed with a grin and Giorno felt himself grind his teeth. "How it's normally played is two rounds, but we'll only be doing the first round. Round two has far too much chance in it to properly play as a competition. So, four cards are drawn for each player. The player must guess some attribute about the card. If they are correct, then an opponent of their choosing takes a drink. If they are incorrect, they must drink." He grinned. "So there are eight drinks in total."
Giorno nodded. "Oddly tame." If he explained these rules to Mista, it would've exacerbated his tetraphobia. Too many fours. It seemed silly to Giorno but it was clearly something that hindered his ability to operate at full capacity and trying to overcome it now may have just gotten himself and Trish killed. "What will we be drinking?"
Marsala lifted a stack of eight shot glasses from beneath the table and set them down between himself and Giorno, as well as a large bottle of clear liquid, filling each glass half-way.
"Vodka?" He asked.
"No, of course not." Marsala hissed with a grin. "It's just water. The real fun is this." He retrieved a small bottle with an eyedropper screwed in to the top. The warning label seemed to be in Portuguese. "This is the venom of Phoneutria, the Brazillian Wandering Spider. It's a potent neurotoxin that causes extreme pain and in lethal doses, lead to an exceptionally unpleasant death by asphyxiation." He cackled and Giorno felt his own eye twitch. The man's voice was exceptionally unpleasant.
"How much is lethal?"
"With the way I'll distribute it, four drinks will be lethal within 40 minutes. 5 drinks within 30 or less. The more you drink, the faster you die, of course... and one more thing." He grinned wider and Giorno felt his stomach turn just a little at the sight. "It has an adverse reaction in men. It causes ah... priaprismo is the word in italian I believe. It's due to the nerve inflamation. It's the most painful part and can render someone impotent, even in non-lethal doses. I think your enforcer friend over there should be drinking, really. The boss shouldn't have to lower himself... but then, even if you make it out of here alive, I doubt your friend Mista will have use of his dick after today!" The unpleasant man cackled as the color drained from Mista's face. "Provided he agrees, of course. We can't have a game if he doesn't agree to take the drinks."
"I'll drink. Mista doesn't have to-"
Marsala raised a finger. "Don't think I don't know about your stand, Mr. Giovanna. Mista will be drinking or there is no game."
Giorno resisted the urge to bite his lip. He knew what Gold Experience could do, then. Alcohol or poison wasn't really a concern for Giorno, but Mista had no defenses. Even if his body was damaged in some way, Gold Experience could repair the damaged part or if he gambled on Requiem, he could roll back the damages... but something like that, in someone else's body... replacing Mista's entire circulatory system would be a herculean task that Giorno wasn't certain he was capable of, provided Mista even lived long enough for him to attempt.
"I'll do it." Mista was shaking. "We need to save Trish, right?! So I'll do it! I'll risk my dick for Trish!"
"Oh, Mista..." Trish tried to turn her head to look at him, but could not. "That... really doesn't sound sweet at all. It's actually kind of gross, to be honest. But thank you."
Giorno couldn't help but let out a small sigh. "Very well then. Fatalities aside, what conditions need be met for the child... Charisma, you said her name was. What must I do?"
"Whoever makes the most correct guesses wins. If there is a tie, we go again. And Mista drinks again." He smiled. "I'll tell you the location of the antidote for this venom and allow the release of Trish if you win. I should warn you, I've played this game many times. I'm not immune to its effects, but it will take a much greater amount phoneutria's delightful neurotoxin to kill me than Mista could ever handle. If he dies, then Trish remains put. We could go again, I suppose, if Miss Una would agree to sample the venom. I must say, I'm not quite sure it could have a similar effect on women, but the pain would likely be quite similar."
Giorno frowned and looked to Mista. "There is a game shop nearby. I passed it on my way in. Go there and buy 8 decks of playing cards. Pick them out yourself. Two automatic card sorting machines as well, if they have them."
Mista nearly stepped away from the wall, but instead cast his gaze upon the small Charisma. He shuffled along, back to the wall, never turning away from the child. He fumbled at the door, feeling for the knob, before he managed to open it and walk out backwards.
Marsala chuckled. "He's funny. He'll look funnier with a tent in his pants." Giorno grit his teeth.
Giorno remained silent until Mista returned. They prepared to start the game.