Trish and Fugo were having a heated chicken or the egg dicussion in the living room when a now dressed Mista strutted in and threw himself on one of the three couches. His expression casual and extremely relaxed like he didn't just go up to talk to Giorno about some serious matter. Trish noticed this almost right away. She even paused mid-sentence to get some information out of him. Truth be told she didn't actually care about the discussion. It was just fun to frustrate Fugo. Even more fun because he wouldn't dare hit her.

"How'd it go with, Giorno?" She asked.

"Went fine." Mista shrugged. "Like I said, it was nothing bad."

"Then why not tell us what it is?"

"Boss's orders not to saying anything."

"That usually means it's serious."

"Well, it's not."

"Yeah, and Fugo over here isn't totally wrong about the chicken coming first."

"I'm sorry," Fugo butted in, "but it just doesn't make any sense. Where the hell would the egg even come from?"

"Up your ass, that's where." Trish rolled her eyes at him.

"Did you do something to her?" Mista let out a hearty laugh.

"No, she just recently decided to be a massive bitch to me." Fugo retorted, crossing his arms defensively.

"C'mon, she was already a bitch when we met her."

"Oh right, how dare I forget." Trish could practically feel the bitterness in Fugo's voice. She'd be a liar if she didn't find it amusing. She's definitely improved over the years. No longer as much of a spoiled brat but more of a sarcastic brat. She couldn't help her rich girl habits even if she wanted to. Thanks to Giorno, she could indulge on anything and everything expensive.

"I've gotten better." She argued.

"Just barely."

"So disrespectful." Mista clicked his tongue in disappointment. "That's not how you're supposed to treat such lovely specimens." He always was a charmer. He was significantly nicer ever since they switched bodies. Then again that's when their friendship really bloomed. To be fair, there's nothing as intimate as switching bodies. It was passed empathy and it was quite literally being in one another's skin. It felt ridiculous at the time but throughout the years they bonded about the latest fashion trends (mainly shitting on them) and other petty nonsense most would consider superficial. "No wonder you haven't brought a chick home in a long while."

"Go fuck yourself." Fugo simply said and slumped on couch. The irritation wasn't genuine. Trish knew Fugo long enough to figure out the nuances in his expressions. A pissed off Fugo meant someone was already on the floor with something either broken or bruised. It seemed he was in a good mood thankfully.

"Anyway," Mista ignored Fugo's insult. "the egg would come first because it's basic evolution. Something had to lay the new genetics."

Trish laughed in triumph while Fugo simply scoffed.

~

"Hey, Polnareff." Giorno said as soon as he was in Coco Jumbo. The ghostly figure appeared before him on one of the sofas in the room.

"You called?" Polnareff smiled with an energy that was almost infectious.

"I need to talk to you about my father." Giorno cut straight to the point. No real need to waste time, he had other things to attend to even if he came to enjoy talks with Polnareff. He was much like an uncle to him over time.

"I see." Polnareff's entire demeanor changed into something significantly more focused and serious. "What about him?"

"What was he, exactly?" Giorno sat down, opposite to Polnareff.

"What do you mean?"

"Was he human?" Giorno watched Polnareff look down in thought for a moment. Having no where else to look, he simply watched.

Polnareff sighed, "He wasn't human. He was a vampire, actually."

"Really?" Giorno didn't mean to sound so enthusiastic but he couldn't quite help it. Finally, there was an explanation for what happened to him. Sure, he could have figured this out earlier but fear won him out. Up until Mista found out, he had fears letting anyone know. Ghost or not.

"Yes, that man was a monster who took advantage of anyone and anything." The ghost answered. "It's not something to be excited about."

"Well, I didn't mean to sound excited, really." Giorno looked down sheepishly. "I've just come across some issues recently that I could only conclude related to my father."

"What kind of issues?" Polnareff raised a brow in interest.

"I may or may not have developed a certain taste for blood."

"When was this?"

"Two weeks ago."

"You didn't kill anyone, did you?" If he was honest with himself, he knew full well that he's killed a man in cold blood. He just didn't like to think about it. The guilt would kill him because it was an innocent man that didn't need to be killed. It was of his own animalistic desire and he couldn't control it.

"Listen," He looked up to the other, "I just need to know anything that can help me understand what's happening to me."

"I can only tell you so much." Polnareff started. "However, something I know from personal experience is what happens when you drink blood."

"Did he drink your blood?"

"Yes, he did."

"What did it feel like?"

"You feel this magnificent euphoria that I can only understand as coming from a type of hypnotism." His jaw tightened as if it was actually a rather painful memory than a good one. Something akin to a sense of heartbreak. "It's something better than the best sex someone could ever have." At that Giorno's eyes went wide. It was similar to how Mista described it. "You didn't drink anyone's blood did you?"

"I..." He sighed knowing he had to pull the band-aid off at once. "I drank Mista's blood and he described it almost like that."

"Was it on purpose?"

"No, I actually hate that I did it."

"Good, you should." How encouraging. His irritation was unwarranted and he knew it it. It was instinct that was getting to him. Polnareff was absolutely right. "Have you taken any more from him?"

"I've restrained myself by using Golden Experience to make blood."

"It was fluke, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad you have the strength to hold yourself back." Polnareff flashed a relieved smile. "Tell me, have you had any other symptoms?"

"The sun stings a little, I suppose." Giorno's paused to think harder on the differences. "I have fangs, my eyes change color, and I've gotten slightly more physical strength."

"Interesting." Polnareff went silent. His eyes scanning Giorno carefully. "You really do look so much like your father. It's terrifying."

"You always say that."

"It's just a fact that baffles me."

"My existence has always confused people." Giorno shrugged with an amused smile. Polnareff chuckled.

"I think you should talk to an old friend of mine."

"Old friend?"

"Yes, he knows more about your father than I ever will."

~

"Hello?" A deep voice answered on the other end of the line. Much deeper and cooler than Giorno expected. Still, he was relieved to get answer, it meant his math was right. Noon was evening over in Japan already.

"Hello, is this a Mr. Jotaro Kujo?" It felt strange speaking Japanese again. It had been a long while since he had. The last time was because he was drunk and he only figured that out by first hand accounts of Mista and Fugo. When they translated it, it turned out he was relaying a cold soba recipe. Despite all that time without it, it came naturally.

"Yes."

"My name is Giorno Giovanna, I was told by Polnareff to contact you."

"Polnareff, you say?" There was a sound of shuffling papers and a sigh. "How exactly can I help you Giorno Giovanna." Jotaro cleared his throat. "Or should I say Haruno Shiobana." Giorno grit his teeth upon the sound of that name.

"What do you know about my father?" He forced himself to say.

"Why do you want to know anything about him?"

"I believe I deserve to know."

"Why now?" By the sound of the way the man spoke, he was a stubborn one. He was playing it safe just as Giorno was.

"Mr. Kujo, I would like to invite you to my home. I believe a meeting in person will be easier for the both of us." Maybe the presence of Polnareff would make this easier.

"How do I know you won't kill me?"

"How would killing you be of any benefit to me if I'm asking you for information?" The line went silent for a moment. He heard a distant and quiet 'good grief'.

"When?"

"When is most convenient for you to arrive in Naples?"

"In two days."

"Alright, I'll arrange for someone to pick you up and take you here."

"Alright." The line went dead instant after. How rude. He couldn't really blame him though. Giorno was something Jotaro saw as a threat. He had no reason to trust him or be nice to him. How much Jotaro knew did make him weary. Just how much did he know? He clearly knew his given name. He knew his father. That's what really mattered. He's had to let the rest of the information slide because he had far more important things to worry about.

A familiar migraine started to grow. Instantly, he knew he needed blood. His body was starting to crave it. He felt like an alcoholic every time. The stress of the conversation probably wasn't helping.

His mind came to Mista as he went to reach for the jaw of synthetic blood he had in the bottom drawer of his desk. The taste came back to haunt his tongue. Fuck. If that dumbass hadn't gotten that paper cut, he wouldn't be having this dilemma.

The migraine pulsed. Mista was more than willing. His hand shook. He could just replenish it with Golden Experience. He was on his feet. Just one more taste and nothing more. He was out of the office. One more taste and he could get it under control. He knocked Mista's bedroom door. Mista came into view with a yawn.

"Are you okay?" He questioned. Right, Giorno needed to form words.

"I thought about your offer."

"I thought it would take longer than a few hours." Mista's eyes went wide. "Christ, Giorno, at least buy me a drink first."

"Just one more time." The migraine was becoming unbearable. "For the sake of my sanity."

Mista nodded, "Come on in." He moved to let the other in. The door shut with a click that made Giorno flinch in pain.

Mista was already in the midst of pulling off his usual cropped sweater. The exposed skin made Giorno's mouth run dry and his throat hurt. He was starting to get dizzy when Mista led him to the foot of the bed. A gentle hand pushed him toward his exposed neck. Giorno didn't hesitate to sink his teeth in. The second he broke into the layer of skin, he heard Mista gasp.

That wonderous and warm blood flooded his senses. He felt high. The migraine, dizziness, everything; it all faded. Once he had enough blood to come back into his senses, he could swear he heard the other moan. He had the slightest need to laugh at how ridiculous this actually was. He pulled back not long after. Mista's mind seemed to stay hazy long enough so that he could heal him without him being a big baby about the pain.

When he did come back to his senses, he seemed to jump as a pink hue filled his face. He shook his head it faded.

"Do you feel better?" He asked.

"I do." Giorno smiled as he stood up. "Thank you."

"Shame there won't be another time."

"Guido, I'm just trying to do the right thing."

"I know." Just as he was about to leave, the thought popped right back into his head.

"Oh," A flash of something strange overcame Mista's face when he paused to look back at him. "I have a guest coming here in two days, I need you to be his escort from the airport to here."

"Got it, boss."

"More importantly, be careful what you do when he comes. Keep quiet unless needed."

"Now you're just asking for too much."

"It's extremely important, Guido."

"Fine!" Mista groaned. "I won't say a thing!"

"Thank you." With that he went to the door.