You had known Dio for years, familiar with his troubled past and his complex relationship with his father. Despite this, you found yourself constantly having to engage with him to prevent him from drowning his sorrows in alcohol or lashing out in anger. Passing by his room, you heard his voice slurred with annoyance.

"God damnit, I'm just like that wretched, drunk bastard, Dario..." he muttered, taking another swig from the wine bottle. As you approached, his tone quieted, almost as if he was anticipating your entrance.