Work Text:
“Triple P; get it in 23, or-”
“Yes, I know the little jingle. ‘Get it in 23 or the next one’s free.’ I think I should get this one for free seeing as how I’ve been trying to place an order for the last 23 minutes.”
Bruno furrowed his eyebrows. Although the amount of time was probably an exaggeration on the customer’s part, he didn’t like the idea that the phone had been ringing for an extended period of time without anyone bothering to answer. He couldn’t help but wonder how long it would have taken for someone to have answered this call if he hadn’t just walked in through the back door to the kitchen.
“I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, sir,” he said solemnly. “But thank you for trying until you were able to reach someone. What can I get started for you?”
Bruno wedged the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he wrote the order down. He might have been the store’s owner now, but one of his core beliefs was that he would never ask one of his employees to do something that he wouldn’t do himself. If that meant answering the phone and taking an order, fine. If that meant taking out the trash or mopping the floors, so be it. No task was beneath him just because he held a position of authority.
But he would have preferred to have walked in and seen the usual hustle and bustle of his kitchen instead of having to answer the call of an unhappy customer.
He repeated the order back to the man on the phone to make sure that he had everything correct, and he assured him that he would be given a considerable discount for his troubles.
Once he hung up, Bruno heard something coming from the dining room. Now that the phone wasn’t ringing and he wasn’t busy focusing on the conversation at hand, it was much more noticeable. It almost sounded like something electronic. They often played the radio in the dining room for customers to enjoy while they ate, but this sound most certainly wasn’t music.
Something was off.
He quietly made his way to the kitchen door, and his heart sank when he saw the empty dining room. He paused to take a deep breath. It was nothing to worry over. It was 3 pm on a Tuesday, after all. There would be more customers this evening, both dining in and placing delivery orders.
“You suck, dude!”
Bruno’s attention turned to the side of the dining room, where Narancia and Mista were huddled around a large, bright blue fixture.
“Shut up!” Mista growled as Narancia laughed.
“What’s going on here?”
Both Mista and Narancia flinched and spun around at the sound of Bruno’s stern voice.
“Bruno! We were, uh…”
“We were testing out the new arcade game,” Mista explained.
Bruno narrowed his eyes as he examined the machine. It was a relic that had been discovered in one of Polpo’s many storage units after his tragic passing several months ago. And, naturally, since Bruno had been named Polpo’s sole beneficiary, all of his ‘treasures’ had been bequeathed to him.
The machine itself was in pretty poor shape when it was first wheeled out of storage, much like nearly all of the strange items Bruno had inherited. However, after a few calls and eventually a visit from a technician who specialized in restoring arcade cabinets, it was finally functional.
“Testing it out? Haven’t you seen customers using it?”
“Well, uh…”
Narancia chimed in this time, “We gotta make sure it works when you get to higher levels! None of the customers are as good as us! Well, as good as me. Mista sucks at this game. He spends all his change on the claw machine.”
“I’m trying to get that frog plushie for Giorno!” Mista fired back.
Narancia huffed. “Dude, you are so fu-”
Bruno shot Narancia a look of warning. He’d made it clear on more than one occasion that profanity was not allowed in the dining room, even when it seemed as though there weren’t any customers around. Someone could easily walk in without being noticed.
“-fuh-reakin’ whipped,” Narancia finished his thought, as if that was how he was going to word it in the first place. “You and Giorno are already dating! You don’t have to do crap like that anymore!”
“Poor, stupid Narancia,” Mista tutted, shaking his head. “It’s because we’re dating that I do have to do special stuff every now and then.”
“I can’t tell the two of you how you should spend your money,” Bruno said, “but, as your employer, I can tell you how you should be spending your time while you’re on the clock, and it isn’t playing video games.”
Narancia looked around the empty dining room. “I mean, it’s kinda dead right now.”
“Oh really?” Bruno crossed his arms. “So you’ve been listening for incoming calls?”
The way they both grimaced told him everything he needed to know, even if he already knew it.
“Where’s Risotto? Isn’t he supposed to be the manager on duty right now?”
“He had to leave a little early,” Narancia whispered.
Mista nodded. “He sliced his finger pretty good with a kitchen knife. It looked like it was gonna need stitches.”
Great, Bruno thought. Just what he needed. Workers’ comp paperwork to fill out.
“We told him we’d be ok on our own,” Mista continued.
“Because we knew you were gonna be here soon!”
Bruno took another deep, calming breath. “Mista, I need you in the kitchen. There’s an order on the counter for you to fill.”
“You got it, boss!” Mista said with a smile.
“Narancia, you mind the dining room until the order is ready. Then, you’ll need to deliver it.”
Narancia nodded. “Can do.”
“And don’t make me have to send someone to come find you again. You can’t keep getting lost out on deliveries.”
“Fugo’s not here to help me look at the map,” he said with a pout.
“Mista will help you before you go. Won’t you, Mista?”
Clearly realizing that it was more of an order than a question, Mista shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”
With that, the three of them dispersed and went about their tasks, Mista heading to the kitchen, Narancia standing behind the cash register at the counter, and Bruno making his way to the manager’s office. It wasn’t as tidy as Bruno would have preferred it to be with its stacks of papers and rainbow of adhesive notes stuck to every surface, but it was definitely better than it had been when Polpo was still around. That man had kept so many random knick knacks, from an antique viola to a baseball and even a teddy bear.
Bruno sometimes wondered how many of those objects were related to the drugs.
He’d only been 15 when his career at Passione Pizza Parlor began. It was a job he took to help bring some additional money into the Bucciarati household after his father had been involved in an unfortunate boating accident. Bruno had no way of knowing that the restaurant wasn’t the only business Polpo was in charge of, and the only reason that he found out was because he walked into a deal on the way to take out the trash one night.
But Polpo made impressionable young Bruno a deal. In exchange for his silence, he’d be paid double and fast-tracked to a management position. After all, Bruno was the best employee Polpo had in the restaurant, and Polpo never let hard work go unrecognized.
It was ten years later when Polpo was finally caught and taken to jail, and it was only a few weeks after that he died. In the following months, Bruno worked tirelessly to get the old restaurant cleaned up, which included a fresh coat of paint on the walls, a thorough deep cleaning of the floor and entire kitchen, and a total rebrand. If Passione Pizza Parlor was to survive, it would have to overcome its reputation as a seedy place where people were more likely to go for cocaine than breadsticks.
Thus far, his efforts seemed to have been rewarded. They now had a pretty solid foundation of regular customers and a steady flow of new faces coming in. Bruno just hoped that word would spread and that this place would continue to support him and all of his closest friends-slash-employees.
He glanced up at the one item he’d moved into Polpo’s office after taking all of the other things out: a framed photograph of him as a little boy alongside his father holding a huge sea bass together.
It was enough to make him smile.
He pulled the keyboard closer with renewed resolve and booted up the old desktop that had been in that office since God knows when. While the boys served customers and cooked pizza, Bruno would busy himself with placing orders for ingredients and attending to payroll. It was a task he absolutely loathed, but it was a necessary evil.
It took a little longer than he’d expected to fill out the order for their supplier. Between the computer freezing and him having to get up and check the kitchen’s stock of mozzarella and canned tomatoes, it was oddly relieving when he was able to click the “submit” button on the page.
Which meant it was time to fire up the payroll program. Even as the software was loading, the computer sounded like it was going into overdrive. Seriously, how was this thing still running?
Bruno began clicking through all of the spreadsheets and even pulled up the computer’s calculator to check his work as he went. But the longer his task went on, the more boring it became, and the more he felt his eyes trying to slip shut. The soft sound of the CPU’s fan whirring was oddly relaxing, and he could feel his head bobbing as he tried his very best to stay awake.
He wasn’t quite sure when he lost the battle to sleep, but he was brought back to the waking world with a single word.
“Hey.”
Bruno flinched as his head jerked upright.
He turned to look at the office doorway and saw Abbacchio frowning at him. “Were you asleep?”
“No,” Bruno lied with a little stretch. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m closing tonight, remember?”
“Yes, but I meant why are you here in the office?”
“Just coming to see where you needed me.”
Bruno rubbed the bridge of his nose as he thought. “Is Narancia still here?”
“Yeah.”
“Take over for him at the counter. With his mathematical skills, I’d prefer it if he wasn’t running the register.”
He thought that would be the end of the conversation, but Abbacchio didn’t look like he was moving anytime soon.
“Is there something else you need?”
Abbacchio crossed his arms over his chest. “You ok?”
“Yes.” Bruno’s response was nearly instant. “Everything is fine.”
The frown on Abbacchio’s face deepened. “Is that why you have dark circles under your eyes and why your nails have been bitten down?”
Bruno glanced down at his fingers as they rested on the keyboard and curled them beneath his palms. “Everything is fine,” he repeated, a bit sterner this time.
Without another word, Abbacchio took his leave.
Whatever it was that Bruno was up to, he must have finished it. Abbacchio finally saw him leave that cramped office a bit later, when the sun was just starting to set. He watched as he made the rounds through the dining room, stopping to talk to a few customers here and there, being a personable store owner.
It was fake as hell, and Abbacchio knew it.
Bruno did like taking care of people, so that part wasn’t completely disingenuous. But the forced smiles and polite laughter? Abbacchio saw right through all of that.
Something had changed about Bruno Bucciarati in the time since he’d taken over as the owner of Passione Pizza Parlor. Abbacchio had known Bruno for a little while prior to his big promotion. It was Bruno who’d helped him get this job, after all. They’d met at a bar shortly after Abbacchio had been kicked out of the police academy, where Abbacchio had been desperately trying to drink away his woes. He had no idea what had made Bruno want to talk to him that night, but the next thing he knew, he was sleeping on the couch at the Bucciarati house with a job interview at some pizza joint the next day.
It hadn’t felt like much at the time, but Abbacchio knew now that he could never completely repay Bruno for saving his life that night.
The Bruno from back then was a bit reserved but generally amiable. He brought in several new employees, watched out for them and helped them develop their skills, and he himself was a hard worker to boot.
Too hard of a worker, perhaps, Abbacchio mused.
Now? Well, most of the time Bruno was a walking zombie at best. He was friendly to customers, but it was obvious that he was just going through the motions. And he’d basically closed himself off from his friends who worked at Triple P. At first, Abbacchio thought that he wanted to distance himself since he was their new boss. Maintain a strictly professional relationship with everyone, something stupid like that. But after what he saw in the manager’s office today, he felt like he was starting to piece together the truth.
As the clock struck 9, Bruno calmly walked to the front window and tugged on the tiny chain to turn off the “OPEN” sign.
“I’m going to go put the bank deposit together,” Bruno announced to the dining room. “If you two would finish straightening things out here, we can all go home in a timely manner.”
“Sure thing,” Mista said as he was already in the process of wiping down tables.
Abbacchio kept quiet, choosing only to watch Bruno as he crossed the room and headed back into the kitchen.
“Mista.”
“Huh?”
“After you get those tables cleaned up, go ahead and leave. I can handle the rest.”
Mista gave his coworker a thoroughly confused look. “Wh-?”
“I’ve got it,” Abbacchio assured him. “There’s not much left to do anyway.”
Mista stared at him blankly for another few seconds until his lips turned up into a sly grin. “Oh, I get it.”
Abbacchio, on the other hand, scowled. “Grow up.”
“No no, it’s cool. Whatever you and Bossman get up to in your offtime is your business.”
Abbacchio rolled his eyes but said nothing. There was no point in arguing with this punk, especially over something that didn’t concern him in the slightest. This was about Bruno. And even though there was no way that Abbacchio would ever feel that he’d completely repaid him for saving him that fateful night, he could sure as hell try.
An odd smell caught Bruno’s attention as he licked the envelope for the bank deposit. It almost smelled like pizza dough, but that couldn’t be right. The restaurant was closed, and the last order had been placed long before then.
He rubbed his tired eyes as he rose from the desk and peered out into the kitchen. To his surprise, Abbacchio was standing by the oven, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.
“What are you doing?”
Abbacchio glanced over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the oven. “Making a pizza. What does it look like?”
“But the restaurant is closed.”
About that time, the pizza in question began to emerge from the other end of the oven. Bruno walked over to get a better look at it and felt a flutter in his stomach when it fully came into view.
“I-Is this..?”
“Mushroom and garlic pizza with alfredo sauce instead of marinara, yep,” Abbacchio answered with a nod. “Just like the kind you used to bring home when I was crashing on your couch.”
Bruno couldn’t believe that Abbacchio remembered something like that. Not only had it been such a long time ago, it was a specific and unusual combination of ingredients. But then again, Abbacchio was attentive to a fault. It must have been the result of his days at the police academy.
Abbacchio slid the pizza onto a serving tray, used the cutter to slice it up, and nodded toward the dining room door. “C’mon.”
Bruno stood dumbfounded for a moment before finally replying with an intelligent, “What?”
“We’re having dinner. Let’s go.”
“Hold on-”
Abbacchio turned around to glare at him. “You haven’t eaten since you got here, have you?”
Bruno narrowed his eyes. Damn Abbacchio’s observational skills. “No.”
Almost defiantly, Abbacchio bumped the dining room door open with his elbow. “We’re having dinner.” Despite repeating himself, he sounded much firmer this time.
Well, it seemed there was no arguing with him. With a wary glance, Bruno walked past the now-untidy kitchen counter and followed his employee.
Nearly as soon as Bruno set foot in the dining room, he quietly gasped. He didn’t think he’d ever seen it look like this before. The overhead lights were all turned off, but the decorative neon signs on the walls were still on. Those combined with the light of the still-running arcade cabinet gave the room a soft blue and purple glow.
It was beautiful. Dream-like, even.
And there was Abbacchio at the center of it all, easing himself up onto the checkout counter to sit.
Before Bruno could protest, he muttered, “Relax, I’ll wipe everything down before we leave.”
As if by the power suggestion, Bruno could feel the tension leaving his shoulders.
He took a seat on the counter as well, but rather than leaving his legs dangling like Abbacchio, he pulled them up to sit cross-legged and spun in place to face his friend. Bruno leaned forward and took a slice of pizza. The scent of the garlic alone was enough to make him salivate. He slowly brought it to his lips and took a bite, and, in that moment, Bruno was transported to another place in time.
It was nearing 10 pm, and Bruno was just coming home from another busy night at Passione Pizza Parlor, keeping the place afloat while Polpo peddled his “special” products on the side. His father had long since gone to bed, but there was a grouchy police academy dropout lying awake on his couch, watching old school detective show reruns. Bruno didn’t understand why he tortured himself like that, seeing what could have been. Neither of the Bucciaratis minded his company, though. Bruno found Leone Abbacchio both fascinating and mysterious.
Paolo, on the other hand, was quietly amused by his son’s fascination with the young man—a fact that he would reveal long after Abbacchio had enough money saved to strike out on his own.
On these particularly late nights, Bruno often brought home a pizza of his own. Things would have been too busy at the restaurant for him to have taken a meal break, and Polpo didn’t mind sending a free pizza home with his most valued employee.
Bruno announced his arrival, and Abbacchio peeled himself off of the couch just long enough to slump into a chair in the dining room. And then, they quietly ate. It was a simple ritual, but one Bruno looked forward to. There was something entrancing about Abbacchio’s presence, even when they said nothing at all to one another. But when Abbacchio did speak, his low, rumbling voice was strangely comforting. And his eyes… Bruno had no idea how many times he’d gotten lost in those gold-and-lilac eyes.
In the present, Bruno was brought out of his daydream by that same rumbling voice. Except, it wasn’t speaking this time. It was chuckling.
Bruno glanced up from his pizza and arched an eyebrow.
“You made the same face just then that you used to.”
Bruno felt his cheeks heat up ever so slightly. “A face?”
Abbacchio nodded. “Yeah. It’s, like, this look of pure bliss. Like that’s the best damn thing you’ve ever bitten into in your life. You used to make it every time we had one of these pizzas together at your place.”
Bruno lowered his gaze to the slice of pizza in his hands. ‘Best damn thing’ might have been a stretch, but it was pretty tasty.
“Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Abbacchio said, reaching down to pick up a slice of his own. “It’s cute.”
That made Bruno’s face feel even hotter.
“How’s your dad?” Abbacchio asked nonchalantly.
Bruno took another bite of food. “He’s doing well. He asks about you sometimes.”
“Me? Why? What do you tell him?”
“I tell him that I assume you’re well. You show up to your shifts and seem to be in good spirits.”
“‘Seem to be,’” Abbacchio repeated with a scoff. “This is the most we’ve spoken since Polpo kicked the bucket, you know.”
Bruno furrowed his eyebrows. “That isn’t true. We speak every time we work together.”
“Yeah, we talk about work stuff. This is the first time we’ve talked in a while.”
Bruno felt a pang of guilt at that.
Abbacchio sighed. “Bruno, I’m asking you as a friend—and I think that’s what I am to you—what’s going on with you lately?”
After tossing the crust from his pizza back onto the tray, Bruno brought his legs up so that he could hold his knees to his chest. “I’ve just been busy is all. I apologize if you feel as though I’ve slighted you in some way.”
“Slighted? Bruno, are you serious?”
“What?”
“This isn’t about me. This is about what I saw earlier in that office. This is about you.”
Bruno rested his chin on his knees with a little sigh.
“You can tell me anything,” Abbacchio noted. “You know that.”
“I started taking classes,” Bruno quietly admitted. “I’ve been taking business management classes at the community college. I thought it might help with things here, but…”
“It’s a lot,” Abbacchio finished his sentence for him.
“I never technically finished high school,” Bruno added. “I dropped out to take care of Dad. And, not only am I playing catch-up with school work, I’m trying to run a business as well.”
“No wonder you’re so fucking tired. And stressed.” He gestured to his fingernails to emphasize his point. “You ever think about asking Fugo for help? That kid’s a whiz at just about everything. You’d piss him off way less than Narancia.”
Bruno shook his head. “No. I don’t want to bring it up to the others. I don’t want them to worry.”
“Why? You saving all the worry for yourself?”
“This isn’t just about me anymore, Leone!” Abbacchio looked a bit shocked to hear Bruno use his first name, and so sternly, but Bruno didn’t care. “This place was where I came to provide for my family. Now I’m responsible for everyone else who works here. If this business fails, I’ve failed all of my closest friends as well. That’s what keeps me up at night.”
Bruno grabbed another slice of pizza and brought it to his mouth with a huff. The only sounds in the room for a moment were that of Bruno frustratedly chewing and the soft music coming from the arcade game.
Abbacchio pushed himself off of the counter and strode back into the kitchen. For a moment, Bruno assumed that that meant he didn’t appreciate being scolded and that he was ready to finish cleaning up and leave.
But then a familiar song began to play through the dining room speakers.
Although they usually put on the radio during business hours, the restaurant’s sound system also had a cassette player built into it, and Bruno immediately knew that the music playing now was from a tape. One of his tapes, to be precise. The soft jazzy horns mixed with the psychedelic guitar and other instruments were unmistakable.
When Abbacchio walked back out of the kitchen door, all Bruno could do was stare wordlessly.
Eventually, Abbacchio was the one to break eye contact, averting his gaze shyly to the floor. “No more work talk. Just… Just chill out for a little bit. Chill out with all of your favorite things.”
Bruno’s eyes wandered down Abbacchio’s body and back up again. Yes, it did seem that all of his favorite things were here at the moment.
“Thank you, Leone.”
Abbacchio didn’t acknowledge his words. Instead, he brushed by, bottle of cleaner in hand, and made his way to the front window.
Once Bruno finished his second slice of pizza, he also rose from his seat on the checkout counter and walked over to the glowing arcade cabinet at the side of the room. He’d never taken much time to look at the thing up close, and, seeing as how it was finally in a usable state, now seemed to be as good a time as ever. Atop the blue panels that made up the machine were graphics of cartoonish palm trees and other various objects befitting a beach motif. At the center of it all, however, was a bright green turtle wearing a pair of sunglasses.
Bruno tilted his head inquisitively. “This is wrong.”
“What’s that?” Abbacchio asked from across the room.
“This art. It’s wrong.” He turned just in time to see Abbacchio heading his way. “The art on the side panel depicts a freshwater turtle. Look at the feet. Sea turtles have flippers, not feet.”
“That’s because he’s not a sea turtle. He’s on vacation.”
The utter confusion must have been apparent on his face.
“It’s called Coco Jumbo’s Beach Bash,” Abbacchio explained. “You play as a turtle named Coco Jumbo. He’s on vacation at the beach. The object of the game is to walk across the beach and avoid different obstacles.”
There was something truly hilarious about hearing the ever serious Leone Abbacchio utter such whimsical words. Bruno had to cover his mouth to chuckle. “Is that so?”
“You’ve never played it?”
“Of course not. I’ve seen Narancia and Mista playing it, but-”
“Here.” Abbacchio dug around in his pocket and produced a coin. “It’s pretty fun. You might like it.”
“No, I can’t take your money.”
“Fine,” Abbacchio said, taking his coin back. “You can watch me play it instead.” He slid the coin into the appropriate slot, and the screen lit up with a bright beach scene. “The game is broken into three levels: daytime, sunset, and nighttime. If you beat all three, it starts you over, but it gets harder the longer you go.”
Bruno nodded. “That makes sense.”
As soon as the bright “START” appeared on the screen, an upbeat electronic song immediately drowned out the jazz playing over the speakers. The small pixelated turtle began walking across the beach, which, as Abbacchio had suggested, was laden with objects like sandcastles, beach balls, and even bright red crabs scuttling back and forth to block the path.
It was one of those crabs that cost Abbacchio his first life.
“So that’s basically it,” he muttered. “I’m not very good at it.” He stepped out of the way so that Bruno could take his place. “You take it from here.”
Bruno could practically feel his palm starting to sweat as he took the joystick in his hand. He didn’t know anything about video games. This wasn’t his element at all! But once he got past the first few beach umbrellas and falling coconuts, he realized that it was pretty fun. The farther he moved Coco Jumbo down the beach, the more focused he became.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Abbacchio came back.
“Ok, I think everything is officially clean now, so we can head out whenever you’re-” He paused as he looked over at the screen. “You’re still playing?”
Bruno nodded as he dodged a hungry pelican.
He could see Abbacchio studying the game in his peripheral vision. “Wait, you’re still playing off of my coin?”
Bruno nodded again.
“You’re on level nine!?”
“Is that good?”
“Your score right now is almost triple what the high score was when I walked away.”
Bruno glanced at Abbacchio for a split-second before returning his attention to the game. “Oh.”
The sound of Abbacchio’s laughter made Bruno smile.
It took a little while before Bruno finally got a “GAME OVER,” but when he did, he suddenly realized just how sleepy he was. He looked up at the clock on the wall and saw that it was well after midnight. He went back to his office long enough to make sure everything was in its place and locked up before exiting out the front door with Abbacchio.
His employee looked him over and gave him a resigned little nod. “Well, good night.”
As he started toward his car, Bruno hurriedly called out, “Leone?”
Abbacchio paused and turned around, and Bruno was quick to close the distance between them.
“Thank you,” Bruno whispered. “This is the most fun I’ve had in… well, a very long time.”
Abbacchio gave him a crooked smirk. “Good to hear.”
“Perhaps we could make this a regular thing.”
Bruno wanted to kick himself for how desperate he must have sounded, but Abbacchio didn’t seem to mind. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Maybe it was his exhaustion getting the better of him, but Bruno didn’t want to leave the conversation at that. “I’ve missed your company. You’ve always been easy to talk to.”
Abbacchio averted his eyes like he had before. He’d never been one to accept compliments so easily. “Yeah, well, I’m here to listen. You have a lot of burdens to carry, and I’ve got a good pair of shoulders.”
God, yes he did, Bruno thought. Broad, muscular shoulders that made Bruno have to use every bit of restraint he had to not reach out and touch.
“So you don’t have to carry everything alone,” Abbacchio finished his thought.
He turned to leave again, but Bruno suddenly had his hand wrapped around Abbacchio’s wrist. Bruno bit his lip as he gazed up at his friend’s confused face. “My father. Earlier, you asked why he asks about you.”
The perplexed look on Abbacchio’s face didn’t change.
Bruno rose to his tiptoes and pressed his lips to Abbacchio’s cheek. “That’s why,” he whispered.
He finally let go and began to walk toward his own car, but not without taking one last look at Abbacchio over his shoulder. He wasn’t quite sure what he expected to see, but the bright red face of utter shock on his closest friend’s face was enough to make him laugh one more time.
Giorno smirked as he looked through the glass of the claw machine and saw that the little frog beanbag animal was still tucked into its impossible-to-reach corner. Mista had pointed it out several times and promised to win it for Giorno someday, but Giorno wasn’t holding his breath over it. It was the thought that counted in this situation, and he’d certainly give his boyfriend points for thoughtfulness.
“Look, I know I said I’d get it for you, but these things take time.”
Giorno suddenly felt the arm of said boyfriend wrapping around his shoulders.
“Why don’t you just buy a stuffed frog for me?” Giorno asked. “You’ve probably spent enough money on this game to have bought fo-” he paused and reconsidered his choice of words. “-five frogs from a toy store.”
“Because I want to win that one for you! There’s no challenge in going to the store to buy a frog!”
Giorno chuckled as he slid out of Mista’s hold and stepped closer to the other machine nearby. “So this is the new game you’ve been telling me about.”
“Yep, that’s Coco Jumbo’s Beach Bash. Narancia has the number one high score right now, but I can’t get higher than third place.”
The screens flashed, showing a brief demonstration of the gameplay and a cute animated sequence of Coco Jumbo the turtle waiting for the train to take him to the beach. Then the list of high scores appeared, and Giorno furrowed his eyebrows. “You said Narancia has the highest score?”
“Yeah, why?”
“The initials NAR are listed as number two. BRU is number one.”
“What?”
As Mista looked over Giorno’s shoulder, Giorno’s eyes scanned ahead and saw where the initials MIS stood on the list.
“Oh, come on! I can’t be number four!”