Chapter Text
You still stood in the middle of the room after all that had happened. Luckily, Formaggio was fine and your stand did little damage to him and the wall. (Surprisingly.)
Scanning the main room, you saw miscellaneous posters from movies and bands, along with a couple of holes in the wall. They really complimented the place. Or maybe the scattered chip bags did.
A very tall man came into your field of vision and snapped you out of criticising the boys' cleaning skills. He had green hair and a face that could kill, but he managed to give you a warm smile and a little wave.
Either he was very friendly, or just knew you were coming.
He crossed the room and sat on the tiny couch across from the door. You had been too curious to even notice how long you were standing there. You decided to follow the man over to the couch in front of a huge box TV.
A chair creaked from behind you, but you ignored it and sat down by the man with the green hair.
Prosciutto stood up and walked over to the couch, to make sure the man didn't make a cool of himself in front of a pretty girl. Or, just to get a second impression of said girl.
You gave the green haired man a smile from the other side of the couch and he gave a small one back.
"Hey." You began. He looked up at you intently.
"I'm y/n."
He nodded at you and looked down at his hands, then back up at you.
"Pesci."
"Nice to meet you, Pesci," you said to him. It was best to be polite, right? Not that fighting with your teammates upon first meeting was polite. But, you can at least try to be friendly now.
The couch cushions behind you was pushed down with a new weight, and drew your attention to the man behind you. It was the blond man from before. Hopefully he would be a bit nicer on the second impression.
"We haven't properly met, have we?" His voice was deep and smooth, if you listened to him longer you'd probably get goosebumps.
"I haven't really properly met anyone yet." You replied quickly, but from the way he rolled his eyes, that wasn't the answer he was looking for.
He furrowed his eyebrows as if pondering his next action. The blond then thrust his hands into his pockets and gave you a nod.
"What's your name, then?" He asked coolly. He always seemed to be professional.
"Y/n. You?"
"Prosciutto."
You nodded at him, to show you understood. You muttered out another 'nice to meet you,' but he probably didn't hear you. The man turned from you to sit on another chair angled towards the television.
Pesci fidgeted beside you, fumbling with the remote and scanning through the channels. Occasionally he would look at you, seemingly to ask for your opinion of the channel, but you didn't mind what he put on. As long as you didn't have to keep up with the introductions.
These men were assassins, but they were even intimidating off the job.
After about five minutes of Pesci messing with the TV, Prosciutto barked at him to give him the remote. Both you and Pesci winced at his tone.
Prosciutto held the remote in his hand, pressed a few buttons and eventually settled on some news channel. Standing up, you stretch your arms and legs, deciding to explore.
Both men looked up as you left, their eyes following your body, but then returning to the television.
You began to make a mental map of the house. The first room was the living room (you guessed.) It includes the couch, television and a large poker table.
Heading in the direction of the poker table, you saw Formaggio again, along with the two other men from before. Formaggio turned to look at you, giving you a cheeky smile and grasping your wrist. His grip was surprisingly gentle.
"Why don't you introduce yourself, amore?" He asked, with another of his cheesy smiles. You were beginning to believe he did this quite often.
You looked to the other two men, one of them was moving his lilac-blond hair from his eyes to get a better look at you. He had one eyebrow cocked and gave you a bit of a flirty expression.
The other man held your gaze quietly but intensely. He gave you a nod and his eyes glinted with just a hint of playfulness. He gestured for you to go on.
The man with the purple mask and light hair gave you a once over. He then spoke up.
"Go ahead, tesoro," he told you with a tilt of his head and another glance over you.
You shifted under his heavy gaze and cleared your throat.
"Hello, I'm Y/n. I'll be working with you all from now on."
Formaggio spoke up from beside you, "pretty name for a pretty girl, huh?"
He'd probably used that line on every girl he'd just met, but it still managed to charm you. Just a little.
The purple haired man stood in a dramatic fashion, and leaned over to you.
"My name's Melone, but you could call me the love o-"
He wasn't able to finish his sentence as Formaggio pushed him back into his chair. Melone glared at Formaggio then turned to smile at you, and adjusting himself back in his chair. You chuckled behind your hand at the exchange but the brunette man caught you laughing.
"The name's Illuso," he said to you. You recalled he was the one who Formaggio had fallen on top of after your stand attack. You offered a smile and he gave a playful one back.
Formaggio still held on your wrist as you swiveled out of his grip. He pouted like a little boy and joked for you to stay at the table with them. You shake your head and turn to continue your adventure through the house.
You passed the table with the three men, and stumbled into the kitchen. The counters were cluttered, and this room had even less decor than the first. You continued to scan the room, taking in as much as possible. You were going to be living here anyway.
Wait, they had three toasters?
Pondering the odd amount of toasters, you barely noticed yet another man calling to you.
"Hello?" You could tell he was annoyed and you turned to him slowly.
He sat at a small table with only one chair, his legs crossed over each other and holding an abnormally large book.
He adjusted his bright red glasses and took another breath to speak. Probably to get your attention again.
"Hi!" you blurted. You really didn't want another one of these guys yelling at you. And he definitely looked like he wanted to.
"Why are you in my house?" He asked you quizzically.
"I live here."
"No you don't" the blue haired man told you dismissively.
"Yes I do."
"No you don't!"
"Yes I do!"
"Shut up and get out of my kitchen!" He barked.
Oops.
He gave you an icy glare and gazed back at his book. Maybe you'd pushed him too much, or he just had an incredibly bad temper.
"Wait, I have a stand, I'm with you guys."
You extended your hand, revealing Puppeteer. The texture of wood began to show from your fingertips, traveling up your wrist.
Now you had his attention.
The man looked up at you this time, and his eyebrows were still turnt downward, but he managed to look curious.
Silver strands dangled from your fingers, and twisted on their own like vines, trying to attach themselves to something. The strings glittered when it hit the light, reflecting it back at you.
"Well, what can it do?"
He was definitely curious now but he acted like he wasn't. The man has a stand too, and you guessed it was a powerful one by how cocky he was towards your stand.
"I can control things," you retorted. Damn, now it sounded lame. You knew Puppeteer was powerful, but its name and explanation wasn't as cool as you'd like it to be.
He rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses again. The man sighed and tucked his hand under his chin.
"What's its name?" He asked coolly, not holding back his scowl at all.
"I call it the Puppeteer."
He chuckled at that.
"Seriously?" he practically shouted at you, but with a hint of amusement in his tone.
You stood still and nodded. Your hand came back to your side, and Puppeteer's pattern disappeared from your hand.
He readjusted himself in his chair and cleared his throat.
"What's your name, then?" He asked curtly, his eyes back to scanning his book again.
"Y/N"
"Ok." He replied. You didn't want to push him again, but you wanted to know his name. You spoke to him shyly.
"What's your name?"
"Ghiaccio. Now get out of the kitchen."
And that was your cue to leave.