Arancia Dolce

One

"Alright gang, could I get your attention?"

Buccellati's voice rang above the chatter of the gang, which was silenced promptly. He let out a quick sigh before straightening his posture to address the group.

"A couple of minutes from now, a vehicle is going to appear out front and we're all going to get inside. Bring nothing with you but your clothes. And I don't wanna hear any fighting about who's sitting where because I know at least one of you will have a complaint. Do you understand?"

"Buccellati, I have some questions," began Fugo, a look of concern fixated upon his face. "This is so sudden, w-where are we going and what's the purpose? Why are we bringing so little?"

"I'll answer questions once we're secure."

Giorno exhaled, a bit of uneasiness in his breath. "Secure? Are we-"

"What did he just say brat? Are you deaf?"

"Abbacchio, I'll be needing your cooperation too. If it's not Narancia or Mista caviling about wanting to sit in a certain spot, it'll be you protesting about being anywhere near Giorno." Buccellati sighed again, moving to face the window. "Trish, You'll have to lie low in the trunk, there's-"

"The trunk??" She sputtered. "I have to ride in the trunk?"

"Listen to me!" Buccellati groaned, his eyes focused outside the window, the bridge of his nose gripped between his pointer and thumb as he lightly massaged it. "There's a separate compartment in the trunk, it's big enough for a mini mattress, and there's a cooler in the back with mineral water plus various other things. I believe there's even couple magazines and a Game Boy if you're into that stuff."

"I'm into that stuff!!" Chirped Narancia, eyes wide. "Yo Trish lemme play with it! Ya know, girls don't play video games 'cept the ones that act like dudes!"

"Sounds like you Narancia." snickered Mista, getting a chuckle out of a couple of his fellow members.

"That's enough," Buccellati opened the door and hurried out, motioning the others after him. "Our ride is here, quickly and quietly get in. I don't wanna hear complaints about seating. Trish, enter the car normally but climb over the back seat, the rest of you can figure out where you'll be seated but you had better do it quickly. I'll be driving."

"I claim shotgun. Giorno can sit in the very back so I don't have to look at him as soon as I turn around." Abbacchio snorted, climbing into the front seat while the others piled into the car.

"Then enjoy looking at Dumbass and Mr. Anger Management cause I'm sitting with Giorno." Mista jumped in after Trish, plopping into the back seat and patting his hand next to him, motioning for Giorno to take a seat, to which he happily obliged. "How's that Abbacchio? Now you can sit next to your favorite gang member without Giorno interference."

"Don't fuck with me Mista, I won't hesitate to-"

"Abbacchio!" The gang went silent as Buccellati shot a glare at the other man. "Stop with the crude jokes and quiet down. You all are awaiting an explanation that you should have gotten by now. I apologize for withholding the information from you for this long, as well as springing it on you so quickly." Fugo looked out the window as the car began to move, his surroundings becoming a blur as they picked up speed. "Can everyone hear me alright? Trish? Narancia?"

"Buccellati, I'm right behind you," Narancia twirled his hair, one leg curled up in the seat. "Of course I can hear you."

"Ah, that's right. My mistake." Buccellati sighed for what seemed like the five hundredth time that day. "Is everybody listening? Only referring to Narancia this time."