Chapter Text
“I’m Giorno Giovanna.”
Giorno slips his hands out of his pockets slowly, cognizant of the bullets he stashed within his long sleeves.
“It’s nice to meet you all.” He says with a bow, which was not returned.
The gangsters all sitting around the table that day seemed not all that impressed with his appearance. One look at the blonde was enough for them all to decide he was not worth their time, seeing as the previously bickering pair of messy-haired teens near Giorno’s right just continued on with their conversation like he wasn’t there. Another man took a sip from his cup, a little too long, as if avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Still another gave a sneer, then returned to listening to his music- clearly more interesting than any words Giorno could provide him.
Things were already looking quite grim. And Giorno didn’t even make it past introductions.
Whatever…
He snuck a glance towards Bucciarati at his side. The man was gritting his teeth in barely-concealed frustration. Giorno idly wondered whether he would burst at this rate, and what that would look like. Bucciarati seemed like the kind of man to keep himself composed at all costs, judging from their prior interaction. Was this enough for him to lose all pretense of politeness?
“LISTEN UP!”
Well, apparently so. This should be interesting.
“I want you all to greet Giorno, with courtesy- understand?! He is now an official member of his team, and you should all treat him like one. Introduce yourselves properly!”
“Yeah, yeah…” Groaned one of the other members of the team, who was now leaning over the table and playing with his hair.
Hmmm, not quite what Giorno had expected, if he could be honest. It’s clear this man had tight control over his team but perhaps not as much as he’d wanted. Was this a newly formed team? The members all seemed pretty young, none of them matching the image of a mafioso he had in mind.
He suppressed a frown. If these were the people he needed to trust in order to achieve his dream, then he’d rather work alone.
As Bucciarati made his way out, his presence apparently needed elsewhere, Giorno took a seat at the table and felt four sets of eyes on him. Now what? He thought, not particularly keen on making the first move in this scenario. It was four to one and Giorno knew it wouldn’t take much for him to truly feel like the loser, here. He knew from experience that people don’t appreciate his... perceptiveness as much as he’d like them to. So he elected to keep his mouth shut, only speaking when spoken to.
“Giorno, was it?” The older-looking man with the long hair spoke first, pouring him some tea as he did. He had a bit of a condescending tone, asking for Giorno’s age (as if it mattered) before pushing a cup towards him. Giorno decided he already did not like this man, and he doubted he thought any higher of him either as he said, “Here, why don’t you have some tea?”
“Thank you.” Giorno accepted the cup but looked up to give the man a scrutinizing eye before taking a sip. The man looked as condescending as his tone suggested. If Bucciarati were the embodiment of false niceties hiding a potentially bitter and self-righteous person, this man seemed like the opposite. It was in his eyes, hateful. Judging. He was arrogance personified, and any traces of kindness were likely buried deep in his charred, blackened heart, corrupted by the choices he made.
Giorno lifted the cup to his lips and his assessment was only confirmed as he took a whiff of his drink.
“Giorno, don’t drink that!” Echoed a little voice in his head. From the quivering tone, Giorno knew it was Number Four who spoke, one of the six little Eyes (as he affectionately called them) that made up his stand, Goldeneye. The six of them each displayed a unique personality which made differentiating them easy. Four was always the most emotional out of all of them, bursting into tears at the drop of a hat. Yet he was also the most cautious, and this was only made evident as the others spoke into Giorno’s consciousness.
“Gross!! It’s totally piss, Giorno!”
“Drink it! And look him in the eyes while you do!”
“Pour it in his lap!!”
“Spit in his face!”
“Just shoot him already! Rahhhhh!!!”
Giorno rolled his eyes. It was times like this that made him wonder why he was cursed with such a chatty and oftentimes utterly unhelpful stand. He guessed it was the price he paid for the life he chose; as loud and obnoxious they could be, he couldn’t doubt how useful they were in his day-to-day delinquent life. Thinking back on his haul yesterday from a particularly wealthy tourist, he supposed he could tolerate their bickering and their nagging every so often. And besides, it wasn’t like he had anyone else to keep him company. Goldeneye, at least, can be dispelled once he tired of them. He couldn’t say the same for the people he’d meet...
“N-No, Giorno! You’re not gonna drink that a-are you? It’s- that man pissed into the teapot, I SAW him...”
“I know,” Giorno replied within his mind. “And I’m not going to drink this- that’s low, even for me. I will, however, make sure this asshole regrets even attempting to pull this prank on me. Though I’ll need your cooperation, Eyes…”
“Well?” The condescending man was speaking again, a wide, toothless grin on his face now. “You thanked me, so you better drink up now. Or do you not want it ‘cus it’s not to your delicate tastes?”
“Heh! Maybe he doesn’t really want to join our team!” Laughed another gangster, elbowing his friend as they traded giggles and jeers at Giorno’s expense.
“No, actually, you’re correct, sir.” Giorno finally spoke, his tone almost lackadaisical as he set the teacup down. “It’s not to my taste.”
The table ignited into a chorus of hoots and hollers at this remark, before dying down once the long-haired man began to speak again. “Oh? It’s not? That’s a bit of a rude thing to say to your host, Giorno. I’m doing you a favor, after all.”
His tone was making every attempt to sound humoured, but it was clear to Giorno that the man was edging towards annoyance, or possibly anger. Perhaps he hadn’t expected Giorno’s reaction, or perhaps Giorno was simply better than him at keeping it together. Regardless, this was when Giorno realised he was taking the best possible route.
He pressed on, hoping he could push this man even closer to the edge of the cliff of which he was nearly dangling off.
“Nope. Not at all. I suppose I’m more of a coffee person anyway. But not espresso, more like a cappuccino or maybe caffe latte if I feel like it. With lots and lots of sugar, and cream too. So sweet, you probably wouldn’t believe it. Now, this tea here, however..” Giorno nudged the cup back slightly towards the man. “This tea has a rather.. unique flavor to it, I would say, judging from the smell. A flavor that is so far removed from that I described. A flavor so sour, and acrid and with such a pungent and strong odor to accompany it that could not possibly be to anyone’s taste… except for one.”
He looked up into the man’s eyes, watching with glee as they twitched and narrowed at him.
“This tea could only please one with such an equally noxious and repulsive personality as yourself, sir.”
The man slammed both hands onto the table, almost knocking the teacup and pot on its sides, and grabbed Giorno by the collar of his sweater as the rest of the gangsters gasped. His eyes were wild, the fire burning bright and angry within them, alight in stark contrast to his initial calm demeanor. His lips were curled in a snarl, and when he spoke he spat venom, but it didn’t matter to Giorno. He remained nonplussed, knowing that by coaxing this reaction out of the man, he’d won.
“You listen here, you cocky, slimy little shit-”
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!”
All at once, Bucciarati stepped into the room, the gangsters of the peanut gallery sat down and the long-haired man released Giorno before practically falling right back into his seat. Giorno remained standing, offering a smile and a calm gaze at Bucciarati before smoothly gliding back into his own chair.
“Nothing, sir. This man was simply offering me some tea, but it seems I ran into a problem as I was trying to drink it..” He waved his hand over the teacup in front of him where two of his stand now perched; the Eyes were lounging idly over the rim of the cup, trying their best to look as guilty as possible by patting their bellies and licking their lips.
“My stand drank it all before I could even get a sip! I truly apologise... Goldeneye often acts on its own and I do not have as much control over it as I would like to. You understand, right Bucciarati? Sometimes, personalities can clash and create friction in your team, and that friction can oftentimes spiral out of control into animosity. It takes a bit of effort to make everyone truly feel united under one common goal and willing to cooperate to reach it. But once you do, the results can be absolutely astonishing…”
There was more that Giorno wanted to say, much of it related to his dream which he’d attempt to somehow circle back to addressing the team of gangsters he was trying to appease (truthfully, he’d hadn’t planned any of this speech out at all. Bucciarati’s appearance screwed his plan completely). But Bucciarati seemed to have lost all interest. His eyes glazed over, brow furrowed deeply; he looked… frustrated, if nothing else.
He shook his head, before addressing his subordinate. “Alright, fine! Fine, I don’t care anymore- Abbacchio, serve him some tea again. And Giorno, please, err.. reign in your stand as much as you can.”
“Certainly, sir.” Giorno gave the man a placid smile, then turned his head back towards Abbacchio just as a yellow butterfly fluttered past his head. The man seemed to follow it with his eyes for a second, confusion clear in his face before it settled on annoyance when he met Giorno’s eyes once more. In his head, Giorno could hear the quiet giggles coming from his stand. If only he knew..
“Abbacchio.” Bucciarati barked in a curt tone. “I said serve him some tea. That’s an order.”
Abbacchio flinched back, floundering as he attempted to regain composure. “Y-Yeah, I know, just… give me a minute.” His eyes were boring into Giorno now, studying him. Was he scared of him? Giorno wondered. That was interesting.
He looked again towards Bucciarati. The gangster had his fists clenched now- his jaw too, Giorno started thinking he’d chip a tooth if he kept this up. Maybe it’s time he contributed.
“It’s alright, Bucciarati, I wasn’t thirsty anyway.” He didn’t miss the relief flashing through Abbacchio’s eyes when he turned to face him again. “Tea isn’t my thing either. Really, you needn’t worry about me.”
All around him, the other gangsters were stifling their laughs, making no effort to diffuse the situation and making EVERY effort to goad one another into bursting. Truly, this had to be the most interesting thing that had happened to them today, thus far.
And for Bucciarati, as well, though for the wrong reasons. The man huffed, unclenched his jaw and crossed his arms before addressing Abbacchio again. “Never mind, then! I’m thirsty, so Abbacchio- why don’t you serve me some tea instead? That can’t be difficult for you.. can it?!”
Apparently it was. Abbacchio went stiff as a board, his eyes wide, darting back and forth but focusing on nothing in particular. In response, the stifled laughs around them only grew more raucous, filled with snorts and “pffffs” alike. One of the gangsters, however, the one with the suit riddled with holes, decided the situation had grown a little less funny. He hid his face behind his textbook now, apparently thinking himself the Houdini of the group; cleverly hidden away and out of anyone’s sight. Giorno only pitied him for having the sense of humour of a pear.
“ABBACCHIO, w-what is the problem here?! What makes this task so immensely difficult for you to accomplish?! It’s just A CUP OF GODDAMN-”
Suddenly, Bucciarati paused, then took a sharp breath, inhaled and exhaled for a few seconds. He squeezed his eyes shut then pinched the bridge of his nose before mumbling under his breath, “I swear … WHY is everyone being so… annoying and difficult today…?!”
But in the next second, the moment was lost and Bucciarati straightened back into his normally composed self. Tough, this was starting to get entertaining. Giorno would have to push his buttons again some other day.
“Alright, team. We have a more… pressing matter to attend to. Let’s move out, I’ll explain once we’re out of sight and out of earshot.”