It’s 1 AM on a Sunday night and this boutique, home to every name brand fashion imaginable, has been silently and quietly broken into.
This is a quiet heist. No alarms are ringing. Only a few necessary lights are on. The doors to the changing room keep opening and closing. Dio tries on a suit jacket but frowns knowing there’s a chance he’ll rip through it despite the nice fit. It goes in his pile anyway. Giorno has a new pair of shoes, he likes staying close to a brand that uses ladybugs as their motif. Dio gives a small ‘heh’, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge it.
“Be honest, boy. Is this a current-looking outfit?”
“Everything in here is current... they don’t make the kind of money they do selling out of fashion clothes.”
Several things are taken. Dio has a deep distaste of wearing jewelry with someone else’s logo on it, but a set of upper arm bangles feel nostalgic and he piles it in. “How did you know how to get in here?”
“Do you think I could afford these brands doing luggage hustling when I was fifteen? I have practice.”