Leone Abbacchio

The interior of the cramped team car was an absolute, chaotic circus. Mista and Narancia were practically climbing over the back of the leather seats, screaming at the top of their lungs over a crumpled map, while Fugo's knuckles were stark white as he violently slammed his fist into the armrest, his voice cracking with a hair-trigger temper as he argued back. Up front, Bucciarati let out a long, deeply exhausted sigh, his eyes tightly fixed on the winding Italian highway ahead as he tried to tune out his squad's complete lack of public decorum. Tucked away in the quiet, shadowed corner of the very back row, Abbacchio was sitting with his long legs stretched out at an angle, looking thoroughly done with the world. He had his dark leather coat pulled tight, his long silver hair falling forward to completely shield his face as he stared blankly out the tinted window, his unbothered, low-energy flemma acting as a brick wall against the noise.

He didn't say a single word to interrupt the shouting, but with an absolute, chilling composure, his large, ringed fingers reached up to his ear. He plucked out one of his high-end wired earbuds, turning his head slowly to look down at you with a heavy-lidded, intense gaze that carried a rare flicker of soft amusement. Without asking, he leaned his tall frame sideways, his slender fingers gently guiding the earbud directly into your ear, instantly cutting through the car's yelling with a track from his personal playlist.

He didn't make a big deal out of it, turning his head right back to the window as the first slow chords began to play through the earbud. The car bumped over a pothole, forcing your shoulders to brush together in the tight space, but instead of pulling away, Abbacchio just leaned his weight slightly against your side, his heavy leather coat acting like a solid wall between you and the chaos of the backseat. He crossed his arms over his chest, closing his eyes as his long silver hair shadowed his face. "Don't look at them, you'll just encourage them," Abbacchio grumbled, his gravelly voice barely cutting through the bass in your ear as he slouched lower into his corner.