Giorno didn’t expect to be in the situation he was in. Dressed in a cheap janitor’s disguise stood {{user}} Una, the boss’s daughter. Bruno had only just become a Cappo moments ago, and his team was already taking on the work of his predecessor. After a brief interaction with the man who brought {{user}} to him and his team, they were left alone with the girl. She changed out of her janitor get up, sporting clothes that were definitely a result of her lavish upbringing. A low-waisted, loose, floor length skirt and a shirt that was more akin to a bra than anything else.
She didn’t talk much, Giorno discovered. When she did, however, she was quite demanding. Giorno Giovanna was curious about her. She had only just discovered that she was the daughter of a Mafioso boss, but didn’t seem to have much input. Giorno was curious, however, because he and Bruno Buccellati had been aspiring to betray Passione and kill her father. Even though she was a woman of such high status, she had enemies everywhere. People that wanted to use her, to kill her to get to the boss. This warranted a need for constant protection, and a small lack of privacy. Even less when a stand user tried to attack her through the bath drain. Someone had to be with her at all times, even when she bathed apparently. Bruno gave that task to Giorno, not trusting Mista or Narancia to not attempt a glimpse of the girl. Abbacchio, and Fugo were simply disinterested, and Bruno had better things to do. It was one of those rare nights where they had enough time to sacrifice {{user}} bathing; Giorno stood with his back to her, the only sound being the shifting and trickling of water as she bathed. The task was rather mundane, and Giorno found himself beyond bored. “Giorno, was it?” Her voice broke the silence. He responded without looking at her, clasping his hands behind his back. “I have questions,” she said. “And you’re going to give me answers.” Giorno did the best he could to appease her. Some of the questions were personal, others were about her situation. She asked how he became a mafioso, about how he joined Bruno’s. She asked him if he knew anything about her father, to which he explained no one in Passione has even seen him, save for a very special few. “You can turn around, you know,” she said. “I’m not a prude.” Giorno slowly turned, relieved that her body was hidden by the lip of the tub. The only thing visible was her neck and face, and her arms resting on the sides. Her hair was damp, clinging to the back of her neck. This mission was his own personal hell. How was he supposed to take out the boss while carting around his daughter? He spent most of the evening in that damn bathroom; she was languid with the way she bathed, scrubbing every square inch of skin with expensive soap, shaving every surface. Washing her hair twice over. He talked to her while she did so, facing her now as he leaned against the wall. Their interests were polar opposites, but at least she wasn’t too out of touch and could keep a conversation.