Changeling-Giorno Giovanna x Reader

Cash

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cash1

/kaSH/

noun

noun: cash

money in coins or notes, as distinct from checks, money orders, or credit."the staff were paid in cash"

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You awoke to the sun in your eyes and the beeping of cars below, in the same position you had fallen asleep in. The sheets were haphazardly draped across your body, shoes on the floor. Very much in character.

You felt bad and decided to make the bed and tidy everything up, hoping to leave without being noticed. You finished quickly and draped your shoes around your neck and tried to open the door, which was, to your dismay, locked.

From the outside.

Your mind immediately went to the man from last night. Was he associated with your "hosts" in some way? Was this whole thing just an elaborate ploy to kidnap you and-

A single shiny tentacle wormed around the junction where the hinges met the wall. It moved cautiously towards the doorknob and twisted it, revealing Physical Graffiti standing stoicly in the doorway. With great shame, you realized the lunacy of a bedroom door which locked from the outside.

You didn't have time to be embarrassed, however. How Fizz had known how to open the door when you didn't was a conundrum- a worry eclipsed by the fact that you couldn't recall when or even if you had called her out. You barely had time to digest these revelations when a nameless voice called through a mouthful of food.

"It's been there since last night," a smaller black-haired boy came from the sofa. "Don't you remember?"

You faltered. "Uhh... no."

"You said something about having vertigo, which was kind of weird considering you can't actually see the ground from where we are right now," He paused to swallow a mouthful of Reese's Puffs before continuing. "So I think that you hit your head or something while you were fighting that guy last night, but Fugo thinks that you had some sort of 'episode' or something. I dunno really. Either way, your stand carried you to bed and closed the door and stood there all night. Pretty cool."

You looked at him incredulously. Was everyone here on crack?

"Oh, uh," He apologized, grabbing the cereal box. "Do you want some?"

Your brain lagged behind, still trying to process everything he had just said. "Who's Fugo?"

"The short, blonde one," Confusion was apparent on your face, and he continued. "Strawberry tie? Holes in the suit?"

"Oh." You paused, unsure of how else to respond.

"I'm Narancia."

"I'm, uh, Y/N," You cursed yourself internally for using your real name. This was readily becoming a tricky situation. "Nice to meet you." You reached for your necklace, a newly acquired habit, and slid the medallion along the chain as you stepped out of the doorway. Your surroundings were obscured by a thick fog of unfamiliarity with just a hint of danger that comes with all strange environments, exacerbated by the fact that you had no logical reason to feel this way. No one had laid a finger on you, and they all seemed to be nice, to the extent that they let an enemy into their home. Either they were incredibly stupid or had something planned; regardless, you wanted out as soon as possible.

"Do you want to eat something?" Narancia enquired, vibrant purple eyes entranced by the mysterious novelty in front of him.

You would go on record saying that there was something undeniably intimate about eating at someone else's home. Everything was different- not exactly uncomfortable, but strange all the same. You hadn't had many sleepovers as a kid, but you remembered waking up in a strange bed to eat strange food in a house that should have been familiar, now cast in a new shade of yellow that comes with morning. As you dug into a bowl of cereal, you made small talk with Narancia, who already seemed comfortable with you.