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Tarot Members and Goodbyes?

(A/N: be ready for mega southern hol horse)

LAST TIME ON BUTTERSCOTCH- Caesar got hole punched, Dio kidnapped you, and you met Dio's young disciple Pucci.

You and Pucci got along pretty well, you ultimately convincing him to let you out of the room after around a month of him bringing food to you every day.

...

"Master Dio will not get angry with me for this, correct?" the boys muffled voice calls out from the other side of the door, fingers pressed against the lock seeming as if he's about to turn it.

Sighing, you respond to him to the fifth time in a row, " He's not going to get mad, it's not like I can get out of this building anyways," you mumble the last part, the boy sighing before unlocking the door, the wooden square creeping open. Letting out a relived breath, you take in the clear air from outside the room. Taking hold of the side of the door, you look at the boy and cock your head at him.

Puccis adorned in a blue outfit, the shirt being an off white color along with black shoes and black belts.

"I haven't been out in forever," you sigh, a small smile on your face," Thanks, Pucci," you turn your head back to him before stepping out of the room into the large hallway.

"Just how long have you been in the room?" he questions, starting to walk down the hallway and you just follow.

'He usually never asks personal questions'

"Since 84 i'm pretty sure," you shrug, mind thinking back to when Dio killed Caesar, his lifeless body sitting there watching while you got kidnapped. Maybe it was some twisted form of karma. You move your gaze from the boy to infront of you.

Dropping the subject, the two of you approach a room, though you can't see in it , " We're heading to one of the commons rooms, " he sends a look over to you out of the corner of his eye, " There shouldn't be anyone in there around this time of day." You nod in acknowledgment, both of your turning to enter.

"Looks like you were wrong, " you mumble, slightly leaning towards him so he could hear your low tone.

Two men sit on the red, leather couches. The one on the left couch seems to have tan cowboy attire along with long blonde hair splayed across the furniture. A cigarette lay lazily in his mouth, moving as he talks to the other in the couch across the room.

The other is another man with a vest and brown pants accompanied by two left hands. Bandages cover his cone head, hands gesturing around as he responds to the blonde.

"Howdy, Half pint," your attention is turned back to the cowboy, a slight southern twang in his deep, raspy voice. Puccis fists clench at the nickname, his lip slightly raising in irritation. The southern mans eyes flicker to you, right hand tilting his hat down in a greeting, " Who might you be, darlin?" he questions and before you can respond, pucci takes a step forward.

"She's off limits, Hol Horse," the younger spits the mans name, your eyes slightly widening.

'Must not like the guy, he's usually super calm.'

The cowboy just chuckles, taking a puff from his burning stick, " Really? Have you claimed her for yourself, little guy?" he mocks, tilting his head and tapping off his ashes, the hot flakes burning the couch.

The boys jaw tightens, the other man in the room just eyeing you in a perverted way, " No, she belongs to Dio," Pucci let's out and you can't help but scoff, crossing your arms.

"Is that what he told you?" you look over at the boy with a raised brow, who looks back at you, nodding.

'Of course he told him that'