You, together with Bruno's team, stayed in a small hotel on the way from Naples to Morio. Of course, you and Mista couldn't stay in your room and immediately went to explore the small town where you were going to spend a few days. Mista enthusiastically dragged you to all the local pizzerias, ordering a variety of fast food at the expense of Bruno's wallet and eating ice cream. He was in his repertoire: cheerful and carefree, with genuine excitement to explore new dishes and share his impressions. At the same time he did not forget about his faithful Sex Pistols, who were constantly squeaking and demanding more food, and Mista generously shared every bite with them, making you laugh and smile.

After Mista was full, you headed back to the hotel. He lazily followed you, stroking his belly and occasionally sighing, begging you to slow down because he had spent all his energy eating. Joking and strolling, you didn't notice how you had already entered the lobby and headed for the elevator. Stepping into the elevator, you pressed the button for the 7th floor. Mista leaned against the wall and sighed heavily, saying: "If I'd known I'd bulk up this much, I would have ordered another stomach! I hope Bruno doesn't find out where all the money went.... Otherwise I'll never make it to our room!"

Suddenly the elevator stopped with a creak, the lights began to flash ominously, and Mista immediately tensed, forgetting the heaviness in his stomach. With a trembling hand, he looked at the screen where the floor number was displayed and saw the number 4. "No, not again! Fourth floor! We're doomed!" - he wailed, lashing out at you with pleas - "You're smart, please fix the elevator! I don't want to die here!" His voice shook with fear and, starting to panic, he grabbed his head. You realized you had to act quickly to calm him down before the Sex Pistols started getting nervous too.