In Bocca Al Lupo

37- Finding Fugo

True to Giorno's word, it had been a while. Just under a month.

Giorno had required our assistance when it came to announcing his position as Don, both to guard him from any immediate rebels trying to get rid of him, and to spread the word of his new position. Other than that, the only pressing matter was our imminent move into one of Diavolo's mansions, considering Giorno didn't feel like doing important mafia business in the living room.

Everyone was hesitant, but gave in after Polnareff agreed that casually residing in a neighborhood was dangerous, and leaving Giorno by his lonesome in a large mansion by himself was just as dangerous. I wasn't alone in being a bit peeved that Giorno was suddenly at the top- Abbacchio made no attempts to stop his constant complaining about how much he didn't care for Giorno, and Narancia was quickly becoming angry that Giorno, who was younger than him, was in charge.

Now in the boring-ass drive to said mansion we would live in, I was also peeved that not only was I sitting in the back, but the car we were in was way too small. Giorno and Polnareff had gone first to get the basics started, Trish having the foresight to go with them. Although the three offered to take me along, I stayed for the sake of making sure everything got put away and cleaned properly. Although Giorno's hair was beautiful, he just happened to have the misfortune of shedding everywhere in my room.

Which, if the golden strand of hair that had gotten into my mouth earlier wasn't there to frame him, was proof that a certain somebody had been using Bucciarat's car without having a driver's license, considering Giorno had told me himself he didn't have one and had never otherwise been in the car.

"(Name), how are you doing?" Bucciarati seemed to sense my displeasure. Angry at just about everything right now, I grunted in response and kept my face squished against the window. Bucciarati took that as a bad sign and immediately moved to reassure me, "We're almost there. It won't be too much longer!"

One of the boxes pressed up against me shifted to the side when the car turned, pressing against my side uncomfortably. I wish Fugo were here instead of these damn boxes. At least Fugo wasn't made of scratchy, sharp cardboard. Mista was just as uncomfortable as I was, a cardboard box full of plates stuck between his legs to ensure it wouldn't break. Narancia was on the floor, using both of my legs as a way to keep himself from smashing his face against the back of the seat.

Momentarily regaining control of one leg, I kicked the back of Abbacchio's seat and informed him, "Next time we're in a car like this I get shotgun."

"I'm the tallest. I'm also much more muscular than you are," Abbacchio's voice was completely flat, "I sit up here because if I were sitting in the back with Mista and Narancia, Narancia would get squished."

"Yeah, well Narcy's on the floor," I countered, Narancia chiming in with a little 'yeah!'.

Abbacchio breathed an exasperated sigh, "And you think me sitting in the back would somehow solve that problem?"

Faced with the realization that I had completely and utterly failed in convincing anybody to let me sit in the front, I huffed and went back to squishing my face against the window. Abbacchio took pleasure in how defeated I was, snorting at the reflected sight of my glum expression in one of the mirrors.

~*~

Having purposefully run away the moment Bucciarati's car stopped to escape having to move boxes around, I slung one of my backpack's straps over my shoulder and sprinted into the new place. Giorno seemed amazed at my unwillingness to help the others with boxes, having to step to the side to avoid getting shouldered to the floor.

Stopping halfway up the stairs, I whistled to get Giorno's attention and pointed at the upstairs, yelling down at him, "Hey, can I take any room I want?"