TOO MUCH BUT NEVER ENOUGH.

Truly it was a sad sight to see this poor bastard continuously fuck up each and every marshmallow he got. Honestly the Boss felt for the man, he too has been a victim of this. But frustration never solved anything (though it could definitely be a great motivator), so the Boss promptly hands over the marshmallow he just cooked over to Abbacchio and starts on a brand new one. “ Abba, ya can’t have it too close to the flame. Makes the thing heat up a helluva lot quicker. Think of this thing like a rotisserie chicken. ” And before you know it another perfectly roasted marshmallow is ready.

“ Gotta find a good balance, dude. Takes a bit of practice but I’m sure you’ll get it. ”

BOLD OF HIM to talk at Abbacchio like he was a child, though he may not have meant to come off that way. Nevertheless, the younger man grudgingly accepted the cooked marshmallow, promptly squishing it between two graham crackers along with a chunk of chocolate (as he had seen someone else do just a few minutes prior).

❝ Yeah, yeah. Don’t call me that. ❞ Abbacchio bit off half of the snack, frowning at both the nickname and the easy manner in which the other had roasted his treat. How had he messed up something so simple?

Somewhere within the confines of Little Tokyo in the Cotes Ward was a wall that recently been graced with a rather large graffiti mural. This mural was situated in a location that had just enough foot traffic to gain the attention of anyone who came across it, though inconspicuous enough as to not draw the attention of certain individuals. For anyone who would encounter this mural two things would immediately stand out; the various shades of purple that seemed to dominate its color palette, and the image of what appeared to be ward’s resident Bamboo Grove right smack dab in the center. It was very much similar to another certain graffiti mural done in a different city.

Below the image of the bamboo grove was the word SAINTS, and even lower than that was a rather vague message that simply read as follows;

WANTED: People seeking more action and excitement in life. 6:30 PM.

If someone were to put two and two together they’d realize that whoever set this mural up was expecting people to head over to the Bamboo Grove at 6:30 tonight. Who’s to say what they would find there or what even would occur. All that’s certain was that whatever it may be it had to be something worthwhile. No one would spend this much time on a rather large mural with a message and not deliver at least something remotely interesting.

THE GIANT PURPLE mural was difficult to miss, though cleverly placed in relation to potential viewers. Abbacchio stood in front of it for a few moments, reading the message inscribed below before pulling out his phone in order to find this supposed “bamboo grove” on the map. 

Action and excitement. Well, he couldn’t turn that down, could he? Not when he still suffered for lack of purpose in Spirale. He didn’t know much about what had happened after he’d died back home, but it wasn’t a place he could go back to, that much was for certain. He’d have to keep moving forward even if it meant returning to the life of a mafioso.

“And here I thought I was bad at cooking.”

As he says this, he sits down next to the other, bag of marshmallows in his hands. Not even bothering to even attempt cooking the things, he simply digs a hand into the bag and tosses one of them into his mouth, offering the bag to the other.

“Which is why I’ve opted to eat them as is. Besides there’s no reason to add chocolate and graham crackers if they taste fine like this.”

“But hey you can keep trying and failing until there’s no more marshmallows left. It’s fun to watch either way. I think the trick is maybe don’t shove it into the flame setting it on fire. Just a thought.”

THOUGH HE LEVELED Fugo with a withering stare, Abbacchio knew that the younger boy was right.There was a technique, apparently, and one that was simple enough that Abbacchio mentally chided himself for not realizing sooner. It couldn’t be helped that he’d never made smores before, though wasn’t about to admit that aloud-- at least not yet.

❝ Fine. Give me another one, then. ❞ Abbacchio extended his palm towards him, obviously intending to try again. One more time, and perhaps the damnable treat wouldn’t burn. Even if Fugo’s way was easier, it was just a marshmallow. He wasn’t going to give up that easily.

❝Uhm well.. It’s - Not too important. I worked along side some pretty important people in Italy, let’s just say. I moved away fro my home after an incident. What’s your name?❞

He really hoped that this person.. This person he remembers , wouldn’t catch on with who he was, or who he worked with.

❝ ... Leone. Seems like being brought here’s really shaken you up, huh? ❞  

     CLEARLY the guy was acting dodgy. Abbacchio still couldn’t put his finger on just where he recognized him from, and it bothered him more than he’d admit... Especially at the mention of working with important people. Did this mousy kid have something to hide?

     A feeling in his gut told him yes, but that same feeling also said to wait and see. He fixed the other with a pointed stare.

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He hadn’t been careful enough, apparently. Let your guard down once on this island, and though it was ruined, it seemed that it still had teeth to bite you with. The teeth in this case being NPC’s, one of which had picked Abbacchio as its target for god-knows-what reason.

❝ I’m fine. I’ve had worse, just– Stop– ❞

ASK MY CHARACTER HOW THEY FEEL ABOUT SOMETHING.

     ❝ This place? ❞

     FALLING quiet, Abbacchio thought on the question. He hadn’t formed much of an opinion on it yet, though he did think it was pretty much a shithole. And now that the floating girl above the pit he’d arrived next to was telling them they had to help her or die… His opinion skewed towards negative, all things considered.