The Living Purgatory [ VARIOUS JJBA x reader]

24- Airplane Time

(You all chose: convince Risotto!)

Risottos impression of you: neutral -- neutral roll!

Numbers in your favor: 2,3,6

Rolling!

Outcome is 2, Risotto will let you leave to Morioh!

How does this keep happening.

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"Hey there, mister, buddy, breastie- bestie." You advert your eyes from the rather... large chest forced into your face. "You got it all wrong, I assure you!"

"Do I now? It sound to me like you're going to leave to another country, what was it they called you, overtaker? We had an agreement."

The other ghosts watched from their respective corners in the wall, trying to make themselves seem strong with puffed chests and sweaty hands in their pockets, others not hiding their fear with their inane shaking and anticipation raddled minds.

The choking mass of tar, spread and polluting the air like gas surrounding him, seemed to try and swallow you, pull you down with him to those eternal flames. The devil saved a spot for you after all.

Perhaps you underestimated just how big Risottos hand was, for of course it was big, but you didn't think big enough to pull the fabric in such a way the air was snapped from your lungs.

It was only when the shifting in your pocket was made apparent to you by the curious eyes of a nearby Caesar, who'd rather watch whatever was about to spring forth from its fabric cave than pay attention to Risotto. 

Finally, appearing within the beat of crackling thunder, N'Doul leapt out like his canteen was spring-loaded and knocked you away from the vengeful capo, ripping once again the cheap fabric of your shirt and turning it into a poor mans vest.

Mista almost fell backward from the sight, gravity pulling at him like damning chains and begging him down, down. He'd nearly hit his head against the doorknob hadn't he caught himself.

You couldn't spare the second to think about how long it was going to take to explain to Mista what N'Doul was, as that was a whole other headache. 

With your attention stuck on the dick measuring contest in front of you, and the very intense stare Caesar was giving at your lack of a top, Mista's inevitable questions could wait. 

N'Doul's clear, ever shifting blue stream of an arm stretched out in front of you, a barrier sure to break with the slightest strike; though you remember very vividly the hole he tore into your stomach in Egypt.

"Risotto, pinky swear, I'm not leaving anyone behind. In fact, this is for the good of your squad!" You get on the ends of your toes just to talk over N'Doul's shoulder. Your eyes barely break the edge. "You see, there's a guy there, pretty cool, he can restore things to what they once were, kinda like me, but with objects. A thing-omancer, maybe."

Risotto doesn't break his eye contact with N'Doul, but the slight lower of his brow shows you he's listening, because he's become skeptical. 

"Yeah, so like, you know pasta? You guys love pasta. He can make the pasta back into, uh, dough I guess. Or the eggs and flour?" You continue despite his obvious hesitance. "And what if your team needs something like that! Like, their remnant, it's all in pieces and stuff, and needs fixed?"

"Remnant." He repeats, as if to ask you to explain. You happily do so. 

"Yeah, like, the reason you're here still is 'cause you're tied to something-- probably that thing in the little sack you have. Your team is going to have similar stuff tying them here if they're still around."