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Narancia was not nearly as good as Giorno at lifting wallets, a fact that quickly became apparent as the two teenagers floated idly through Spaccanapoli, playing a little game between themselves of who was better, slipping past tourists and locals.
Giorno was effortlessly snatching away wallets when people were careless enough to set them down for a moment or didn't put them back in their pockets properly, and he wasn't using Gold Experience either, because that was against the rules. Giorno was close to having to quit, because he was running out of places to hide his prizes; he was at 5 wallets already, while Narancia had only managed 1 so far.
Giorno turned an oh-so-innocent smile toward his friend, lagoon-eyes glittering with playful energy, his arms up and behind the back of his head as they threaded through the crowd side by side. "You give?" he asked, a little bit of smug on his lips that Narancia thought was cute enough to smooch, but also super annoying because Giorno was rubbing it in.
"Hell no," the scouter replied. Purple eyes darted here and there, looking for an opportunity to at least get one more try in before they turned off to hit Gay Odin (the loser had to pay for the victory gelato of the winner, and Giorno was eagerly anticipating his prize). He found a suitable target in a young American woman that was being pretty careless with her purse, arranged to 'bump' into her, and made a swipe for her handbag.
Oh, no, Giorno winced. You never go for the whole bag, Narancia! he thought. The situation wasn't helped when the girl cried out "Hey, no, give me back my bag!" and Narancia, like a fool, was fighting her for the straps of it.
"Drop it!" Giorno hissed, as they were already attracting too much attention in the form of two blue and grey-clad policemen that had started moving from the woman's cries. "Narancia, ditch!" he cried, and started hoofing it.
Narancia blinked, then quickly dropped the fight for the bag and tore off after Giorno, the two of them sliding and sprinting and twisting through the tourists. They ran fast, keeping their heads and bodies low, using the people around them as cover, like rabbits scurrying through high grass.
"Split!" Giorno barked. "They can't arrest both of us! Meet me at Scaturrchio in 20!"
Narancia nodded and peeled off into Christmas Alley, while Giorno turned the other way and fled to Vico Guiseppe Maffei, placing a line of coffee-hungry tourists between himself and the polizia and then crouching low behind a parked car to wait. If necessary, he could use Gold Experience to get to the rooftops, but although he was breathing hard, he didn't notice anyone turning off to follow him.
After about ten minutes his phone blipped and he pulled it out, found a text from Narancia: LOST EM
Giorno chuckled and typed back: COPY. He stood, brushed a hand along his braid, flicking it back from his shoulder. "Heh." He took a moment to empty out the cash from the wallets he'd captured before pocketing the money. He sent back the wallets to the streets in the form of several brown rats, programmed to go in different directions, get out of his range of effect and then revert. Well, that was a nice little burst of adrenaline, he thought.
10 minutes later at the pasticerra, a very contented Giorno was biting into his favorite favorite sweet, an orange-filled Ministeriale chocolate puck, while Narancia pouted at him; now he was broke.
"Sorry, not sorry," Giorno grinned, "But you come at the Don, you better not miss," he said, with an imperious toss of a hand. And then by way of apology he broke off part of the chocolate and handed it over to Narancia.
Narancia squealed with glee, eyes brightening as he eagerly gobbled down the tasty sweet, and all was well.