The Artist Formerly Known As Capo || [closed; bururururu]
Close was right. He could feel himself breaking into a cold sweat already. This was going to be incredibly difficult to maneuver, and he already felt like he was going to have to bail about partway through.
Or else just have to make excuses the plenty to get himself out of it.
“Guido Mista,” he repeated, as if he hadn’t already known the other’s name entirely too well.
“Well it’s…nice to meet you, Guido. Even if this is…entirely unorthodox?”
Yeah, he’d call it that. Some weird meeting over sweaters. He had absolutely no idea why the other was persistent on that. He didn’t know a fair amount about the traitors other than the basics really—actually he really just knew the other’s name and his stand.
Boy was this going to be some form of getting to know the enemy.
Mista noticed the other looked a little nervous, but chalked it up to his already jump demeanor. He should be more on guard, but why? He had no idea their old enemy was in the city, much less at a cafe with him at that moment. This was a pretty big mistake on Mista’s part, but you can’t spell mistake without Mista, anyways.
“Yeah, Guido Mista. Oh uh you can just call me Mista if you want, everyone else already does.”
Sitting down across from Doppio, he sipped at his coffee.
“So uh... I don’t think I actually got your name either, I just kinda dragged you in here. Sorry about that.”
