〖JJBA - EN〗- Last Judgement

Chapter 43: 1993 - Sorbet

Naples, Italy. March 2nd, 1993.

"Boys, let me introduce y-

- GO EAT SHIT, YOUR FATHER'S A SON OF A MOTHER TRUCKER AND YOUR SISTER'S A WITCH!!"

Ghiaccio had just violently thrown his Super Nintendo controller in Formaggio's face who cried out in pain as he was simply trying to keep his first place in Mario Kart. (Y/N) cleared her throat, they fell silent immediately. She didn't even have to glare at them.

"Ghiaccio, I'm really going to ban you from the console if you do this every time.

- No, don't! I'm calm now!

- Please Mamma, punish him for real", Prosciutto asked, trying somehow to read his novel.

"SHUT UP!!

- Ghiaccio.

- ... sorry.

- Good. So I was saying, let me introduce you to Sorbet. He was sent to us directly by Passione, so I would ask you to welcome him properly."

The young man greeted everyone with a polite nod. He was quickly bombarded with questions. It was almost a mandatory rite of passage for every newcomer. He ran a hand through his black hair to comb it, and answered all questions without flinching. He had experience, there was no doubt about it. So (Y/N) left him in her team's hands, pricking up her ears from time to time to listen to their conversations.

"... and him?

- Who?" Melone asked. "Oh, Risotto? He's cool, you'll see. He knows only two emotions: fatigue and stress. And it's funny but he always manages to feel both at the same time.

- Melone, I'm literally two meters away", Risotto sighed looking up from his newspaper, "I can hear you.

- I didn't lie!"

(Y/N) bit back a smile, pretending to be busy preparing a meal in the kitchen rather than paying attention to their nonsense. But in reality, she wouldn't miss a word. Prosciutto appeared beside her, immediately putting on an apron.

"Wait, I'll help you.

- Thank you, Prosci."

She handed him a knife and a basket of carrots. And she didn't have to tell him anything to get him to work. Prosciutto was certainly one of the most efficient men in la Squadra, perhaps second only to Risotto. And he knew it very well, his place was not in danger. And yet, he asked,

"Mamma, are you still going to accept a lot of new people in the group?

- Mm-mmh. As long as I find you work, that's the main thing, right?

- I guess...

- What are you worried about?

- Nothing. Nothing at all.

- Try to hide it better when you lie.

- ... do you mind if I light a cigarette for two minutes?

- Open the window.

- Thank you.

- And give me one."

He abandoned his task to go to smoke at the window, a certain worry translating into a slight frown. Accustomed to working with six, now seven men, (Y/N) knew better than anyone how to manage everyone's stressful periods. She came to smoke with him at the window, a bad habit picked up shortly after Egypt.

"I'll repeat my question, what are you worried about?

- ... I've been here for a year.

- Yes? And so what?