Changeling-Giorno Giovanna x Reader

Commando (2/2)

"Make that two." Giorno reached for your menu, as the waiter was on his side of the table. You obliged, handing the red leather booklet to him. Your fingers touched for the briefest of seconds- hardly long enough to even notice- and yet you did. The first in a long series of beautiful accidents.

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com·man·do

/kəˈmanˌdō/

noun

a soldier specially trained to carry out raids.

"a commando attack"

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A/N: The legal drinking age in Italy is 16 - I'm also going to be using the anime color palettes from here on out :)

You looked to Giorno, expecting for him to ask the waiter about Bucciarati's strange experience. To your surprise, he said nothing. 

"Hey, weren't we supposed to ask him about what happened with Bucciarati?" You hissed, watching to make sure the waiter was out of earshot.

Giorno closed his eyes and looked over his shoulder. "He wouldn't know."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Did you see his face? It's bright red," He explained. "It's only about 75 in here. He was clearly telling the truth about working in the kitchen, which is at the back of the restaurant. Besides, if that stand erases memories, he probably wouldn't have remembered anything anyway."

You sighed. "So was this whole thing pointless then?"

"No. The waiter we need to talk to is the one who served Bucciarati's wine. That kid can't be much older than 15, so he wouldn't be able to serve us any-"

"And he mentioned that the waiter was different than the one who brought his food!" You finished, astounded at Giorno's reasoning. "And since it's late, there aren't many people working. Maybe they're filling a catering order."

Giorno nodded. "There is a festival happening downtown..." 

"But then who is the stand user?"

"If I had to guess," His voice lowered to a whisper. "Probably the guy who served the wine. He was the last to come in before Bucciarati lost his memory."

You rested your head on your hand. "He wouldn't really be dumb enough to stay here, right?"

"That's what I'm counting on," He explained. "I'm expecting someone from a different shift who wasn't affected by the stand to tell us if they noticed anything unusual."

You nodded, taking a sip of water. Giorno had clearly thought this through.

You took a piece of bread from the basket you and Giorno shared, ripping off a bite-sized piece and popping it in your mouth. The bread was warm and soft, its crust glazed with a thin layer of butter. You could almost picture the pastry chef in the kitchen, basting brush in hand, expertly coating the rolls with the shiny substance. The bread was better than bread had any right to be, and was certainly tastier than the bagged stuff you bought for sandwiches from the store.

"So should we just wait for him to come back?" You asked, midway through another bite of your roll.

"I would think so," Giorno returned, mildly bemused by your enthusiasm. 

Another awkward silence. You tried to resuscitate the conversation by speaking again.

"I haven't eaten at a fancy restaurant like this in a while," You sighed. "Especially not with another person. Too expensive. Do you eat here often, Giorno?"