Fanculo alla Polizia

leave me alone I'm not emo

I blinked at his words, trying to process what he had just said. "I what?"

"Of all people in the police department, you were the absolute best. Not once have you failed a mission. You did your job, and you did it good. You are so smart, too. If you ever got bored of the police stuff, you could've easily gotten into a university. Yet you're in this hellhole with me." he looked disappointed and seeing that on his face was quite the usual, but not towards me.

"There's some things we just can't control sometimes." I said, holding back the urge to tell him everything. I didn't usually open up to people, feeling like my problems would become theirs if they were to ever find out about them.

"Are there really? Or were you just too scared to control them. I know for a fact I was." He paused for a second, looking at my hurt leg. "I just don't want to believe that you got yourself in this just to make yourself look cool."

"I don't think any of us did. Just like you said, we're here because we didn't have a choice..."

"Just promise me you won't die." he almost whispered, looking straight into my wet eyes, that still hadn't gotten used to the alcohol.

"Awh, you care about me!" I said with a childish grin.

"I always have." he mumbled and ,damn, I felt that.

"Alright, enough with the sadness. Let's eat spaghetti to forgetti our regretti." Is said as I stood up and started walking to the kitchen. Of course, that didn't work, so Abbacchio grabbed my arm and helped me get there. "See what I did there?"

"Don't say that again."

When we entered the room, Narancia was digging into the fridge, worksheets on the table, which he didn't even bother to touch. He turned around and his eyes widened. "Since when do you guys get along?"

"Like half a minute ago." I said as I walked past him and pulled some pasta out of the fridge. "Cold pasta it is!"

As I started eating, Fugo also joined us in the kitchen, making Narancia jump on top of his sheets and act like he's been stuck on it for the past 10 minutes. Fugo side eyed him, not falling for his trick. But something else seemed to concern him. "I'm going to act like I didn't just see that." he said, pointing at Narancia. "Bucciarati is dealing with the airport punk right now, but Polpo just gave him another mission. Thing is, he wants us to take care of it. It's a two man job."

"I wanna go!" I said as I shoved the pasta in my mouth. "I have nothing better to do."

"You've got to be kidding me. I just treated your leg." Abbacchio sighed as he leaned against the counter.

"She should be fine. It's just a pick up and delivery job. This rich asshole had too many drinks at one of his clubs and won't just call a taxi. He pays well, though." Fugo said, looking at his phone.

"So we're personal drivers now?" the tall man scoffed. "I remember when they used to give us real jobs."

"Well, Polpo said that casualties are allowed... Although Bucciarati doesn't want any. I'm guessing he has some enemies, or assassins on his ass."

"Then she can't go. I've seen her handle casualties and she's really bad at it."

"It's called trauma, you bitch! I'm going, Fugo. Out of all of us, I'm the only one that can handle a gun while Mista is upstairs, trying to get over jumping from the 8th floor and somehow surviving." I said and they all looked at me, kind of offended. "Look, I don't know what is it that you guys do with all those weird things that appear out of nowhere, but I've never seen you bitches shoot a straight bullet. If this job is basically driving around and hoping we survive some illegal race, then I'm clearly the best candidate."