⏮ moodyblvcs ⏭

⏮ ｢ about. ｣ ⏯ ｢ mobile vers. ｣ ⏭

⏮ ｢ verses. ｣ ⏯ ｢ mobile vers. ｣ ⏭

⏮ ｢ rules. ｣ ⏯ ｢ mobile vers. ｣ ⏭

"Here, drink this."

"Go away."

Abbacchio pulled the blanket that was covering him and turned on the bed so his back was facing Giovanna, a clear sign that, for him, that brief conversation was over.

*the bottle is gone*

(@storiedocs)

Stake-outs used to be boring when Abbacchio was an officer and nothing had changed now that he was a gangster. Different sides of the law, same old thing.

It was why, to kill the time, he had bought himself a little treat: a bottle of wine. Nothing fancy, just something to fill his stomach and give him something to do as he waited and watched.

Abbacchio blindly reached to his side to grab said bottle, but his hand could not find it. So he turned to look at where he had placed it ... and it was gone. It was as if it had never been there.

He wasn't nearly drunk enough to have forgotten about having drunk it all and threw it away. No, it was still half-full. Someone must have stolen it, there was no other explanation.

Luckily, Abbacchio had an ace up his sleeve.

"Moody Blues!"

He watched as the numbers on his Stand's forehead quickly ran backwards to find a relevant event to show him. But when Moody began to morph into what was likely the culprit, Abbacchio could hardly believe his eyes.

Abbacchio does not take kindly to his personal space being invaded or, in this case, straight-up violated. He forcefully grabs the stranger's wrists and frees himself from their hold, shoving them away with little care.

He then took a few steps towards the clown, index finger pointing right at their chest.

The young woman didn’t understand why he had such a reaction. She assumed that he would be worried, but instead he started laughing. Was it because he found humor in it or was it something else? It made her wonder what type of feelings he had towards his boss.

“Fine, whatever.” She responded, still trying to process what she just saw.

Abbacchio nodded and then pointed at his vintage car parked not too far from where the pair was. Without waiting for any sort of answer or confirmation from the young woman, he bagan making his way towards it.

As he walked, however he began thinking about the conversation he’d just had. He knew nothing about Don Giorno’s father. He had just seen the picture the Don had shown him and that was it. He wondered why the hell a girl fucking murdered him.

The boy giggled, letting Abbacchio petting his hair, content of having stole his attentions

He then glanced at the book. Of course Abbacchio was reading a big ass boring book.

“Really? Arent you more a type to read stuff like Dracula or Frankenstein?” He teased again. “What even its about? It looks more like a concrete block than a book”

“You mean gloomy?” he said, unable to keep himself from chuckling lightly. Yeah, that was him all right, Narancia was not wrong. “I read those books ages ago ... I think I was even younger than you when I did.”

When the boy asked about the book’s plot, Abbacchio knew he had to keep it brief and simple: not because Narancia was stupid – the former cop had never believed such a thing to be true – but because his interest could not be bound to a single thing for too long.

“I am sorry for them! T-They are just like little kids! But more obedient… I-I swear they mean no harm, the only heal! And sometimes help me do some coffee… Vagalumes, behave and apologize to him right now!”

But none of the buttermoths listened. They only looked at Leone with heart eyes and wanted to hug the man. Luckily, the shortie could get all of them before they flyed right in his direction “Heh, self-conscious little creatures… Heh…” and she glared at the insects like she said ‘we talk when we get at home’

A stand that could heal. The thing probably detected just how fucked up his poor body was so it came to no surprise that it approached him at all. For a moment, Abbacchio allows himself to fantasize just how nice it would be to be fully healed: no more cane to support him when he walks, no fits of cough that often led to him finding blood in his hands, no more oxygen tanks around the house or breathing difficulties ...

Abbacchio looked up, eyes unfocused and tired. In his hands, a bottle of cheap wine, the first thing he had found in an earlier desperate search for something that would quiet his mind. He had already downed half of it. His conscience had yet to shut up.

"It'd suck ... real bad ..." he slurred. "'Cause ... I n-need it ... y'know ..."

One arm wrapped protectively around the bottle, almost as if Abbacchio feared Bucciarati would take it away from him.

Narancia pouted, sitting next to him and laying his head on his lap, replacing the book .

“You are sooo mean to me!” He whined, but then smiled back, pointing that he was joking too.

“What were you reading anyway?” He asked then, eyeing the book. Probabily it was something that Nara would found boring, but he needed something to chat about with the other.

“Lemme guess, some cheeeeesy romantic stuff?” He teased

“I’m mean to you, ‘cause you’re always bothering me,” he said. “I’m not your goddamn babysitter.”

Abbacchio sighed, deprived of his beloved book, now replaced by a needy teenager’s head. Still, the man began to gently comb his fingers through his dark hair. In spite of his though attitude, Leone Abbacchio had quite a big heart.

“You could say that.” Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to bring that up. If it wasn’t for his reaction, she would have admitted that she killed the bastard. Did she felt bad for it? Absolutely not, but knowing that his boss wanted to see him; made her feel quite uncomfortable. She could already picture possible outcome that would occur once that was revealed.

This was something that was going to be a hassle to deal with, especially since she currently had no ideas on how to get herself out of it. 

Abbacchio barked out a laugh. It was odd, considering he had just been told that his boss’s father was dead and he was the one who would have to deliver the news. And yet he laughed until a violent fit of cough stopped him.

The man almost bent in half, bringing a hand to cover his mouth. Once the fit was over, he straightened his back, acting as if nothing happened, although he seemed to be a bit breathless. A hand rested on his side, gripping it a little. He looked a bit paler than usual and his forehead glistened with a bit of sweat.

She wasn't that tall, only 1,52 metres tall. Her warm blonde hair was tied in a braid (which stayed in her back) that took her some minutes to learn how to do one. The man could also see the freckles on her face and shoulders. Her cheeks heated up a little bit, just like her ears.

"S-Sorry!" Said, avoiding eye contact and adjusting her glasses.

A thing could be seen flying next to the man. Actually, a small butterfly landed on his forehead. It had a certain glow but not too strong, and it was warm. It was a heart-warming warm like if someone was a kitten and was being taken care by their mama. Other more 9 were watching their 'sibling' landed on the man's forehead.

Abbacchio simply grunted in response, adjusting his coat and taking a small step back from the stranger so that he could once again have his personal space to himself. He had never been particularly sociable, but ever since his encounter with the Boss, being too close to people he did not trust caused him to feel uneasy.

He thought the casual meeting was over and he was getting ready to turn on his heels and walk away, when something approached him. He tensed, immediately sensing the presence of a Stand. And yet, when it touched him, there was no pain. Still, Abbacchio was weary.

“Abbaaa, Abbaaa! Abbacchio!!”

Like a cat meowing for attention, the dark haired boy started to call the young man’s name

“Im boooored!” He chirped “I aready finished my job, Mista its out and Fugo its doing some dumb paper work” Narancia whined “Im so bored im gonna perish and die like uh, a plant or some shit like that!”

Ah yes, boredom, the worst fate for his hyperactive brain, Narancia may not be the sharpest tool in the shelf, but just like a little beast he could be really dangerous if left without enrichment. Enough to let him bug the taller goth man

@moodyblvcs

“I’m right here, you don’t need to be so loud.”

Abbacchio closes the book on his lap, realizing — and not without regret — that he wouldn’t be able to do any more reading. He sighed, looking up at Narancia not too far from him: the boy must have been really bored to come to him of all people for entertainment.

The man’s icy pierce was so intense that Fugo could feel his heart skip a beat. But he laughed at the comment after it, a clear ringing sound of laughter. “It was meant as a compliment, really...

But it’s not just some lipservice, if that’s what’s on your mind. Without someone like you to kick our asses back in line, we would have died a few times over by now. I personally prefer that approach over any attempted soft oven mittens. It makes me feel more at ease.”

“Yeah, I can recognize a compliment, Fugo,” Abbacchio joked with a small smile on his lips, after taking a sip of his coffee. “Just caught me by surprise.”

The boy’s words seem to cause the former officer some embarrassment: Abbacchio fumbles a bit with the newspaper, then stirs a coffee that definitely does not need any more stirring. He never thought he was very useful to the team so hearing it said out loud it’s weird.

"I-I'm sorry!"

Daily walks: those were the doctor's orders. Didn't matter where he went as long as he walked a little bit every day. Apparently it was important so that he would not lose the mobility he had so strenously worked for after waking up from his coma.

He was currently taking a small break to check his phone, leaning on his cane for support. It was why he did not see the woman walk towards him and bump into him.

Leone Abbacchio wasn't exactly a gentleman and so he looked up with an annoyed frown on his face, glaring at the poor stranger.