#also I watched the great british bake off and basically imagined alice from season 10 for brit

[kiruuuuu]

Thanks to these two wonderful anons, I finally wrote more recruitverse! Thank you both :) 💗 In this one, they meet Shay’s girlfriend... and as usual, chaos is involved. (Rating T, humour + a whole lot of pining, ~5.1k words)

Meet my recruits! Find the other #recruitverse pieces under the tag or here on my masterpost 💙

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Jojo has never seen Ivan Ivanovic this delighted. There are a few things which spark a grim smile, like being complimented on an exercise well done, or offering him food he adores, but nothing so far has managed to plaster a grin this wide and persistent on his stoic Russian face. His joy is contagious, and both Gian and Jojo himself mirror his expression with glee in between silent pointing and suppressed giggles. Even the blasted snake curled up in its tank seems to smile.

On top of Valenti’s forehead, Jojo’s phone comes alive with an alarmingly loud buzz, nearly toppling the group of chess pieces gathered on the display. The other three freeze comically, Ivan mid-step and his foot left hovering uselessly, Gian about to balance a ruler on the Frenchman’s toes and Jojo with his hands in his pockets, looking for his wallet. A few seconds pass. Nothing happens.

Valenti continues to sleep peacefully.

It’s Ivan who breaks out into quiet laughter, slight hysteria colouring his relief, and then they all have to hold on to something to not burst out into Frenchman-waking guffawing. They’re not even sure why Valenti is sleeping like the dead, but they sure as hell are taking advantage. He’s showcasing several stacks of various paraphernalia on all his body parts, the highlight being a literal chair precariously resting on his limbs. Jojo went where the other two didn’t dare and placed one of Shay’s ubiquitous containers of glitter on his friend’s crotch – closed, of course – and at this point they’re struggling to even procure more items to add to the impressive piles.

As Jojo gingerly places his opened wallet on top of one of Gian’s boots, Ivan Ivanovic, the madman himself, begins building a house of cards on the chair’s seat. Now and then, they whisper ideas back and forth and struggle to keep quiet in between the hare-brained suggestions – we could get Ying, was Jojo’s contribution, and Gian: I would like to try to put as many socks on him as possible. Eventually, it became absurd, with ‘an online coupon’, ‘a pottery course’ and ‘a trip to Italy’ marking the point where they had to stop or risk getting too loud.

A bag of water, Shay might’ve suggested, or if we distribute the weight equally, I bet we could put Dante’s tank on him.

But he’s not here, and Jojo isn’t even too sad about this fact. He’s been spending quality time with the other three, learning chess from Valenti, exercising with Ivan, discussing books from their childhood with Gian – they’re a friend group, after all, so he enjoys time alone with any of the four. Besides, when they get going, Shay’s absence is hardly noticeable anyway; Valenti’s and Jojo’s ideas are ridiculous enough and their motivation to set them in motion stronger than Ivan’s silence and Gian’s gentle disapproval. They don’t need him.

Which isn’t at all to say that he’s glad Shay has been frequently meeting up with his girlfriend. Of course not, Shay is wonderful – as wonderful as a good friend can be, in any case. Yet he’s not necessary for their group dynamic. Jojo can wait until the end of the day to share gossip and random events with him, sure. Shay isn’t the only thing that keeps him going each day. He’s not the first person he thinks about after waking up, though he’s usually the first to hear about Jojo’s convoluted dreams, and they usually text a little before drifting off to sleep as to not disturb the others. Even so, he’s not all Jojo can think about. He’s a big oaf, likeable yet with decidedly more stupid moments than any of them, gullible to a fault, easily entertained by pretty much anything – and now he remembers how Shay realised that the yellow flower called dandelion and the fuzzy one he called blowball are one and the same plant, and how amazed he continued to be by this fact for days and then Jojo told him that ‘dandy’ was derived from it as they, like the flower, tended to change their outfits drastically, and Shay actually believed him and excitedly told his sister who was merciful enough -

Gian is looking at him. Maybe because he’s been motionlessly staring at nothing again and Jesus fuck this is a recently acquired habit he could do without.

I don’t even want that much, he thinks and knows it’s untrue, he’s asking for a whole lot without finding the words and should move on. He should. He really, really should.

With a bang, the door to their room flies open, causing their heads to snap towards the two people in the doorway: Shay is unmistakeable, beaming like he won the lottery, and judging by his companion, he did. Brittany is by his side, close enough to touch and displaying a friendly, inviting smile which – to Jojo – looks fake. He recognises her from the endless photos Shay showed him, though she’s shorter in person, less attractive, even plain. If she didn’t use photoshop outright, she must’ve applied a beauty filter of sorts to maybe move her eyes closer together or reduce the size of her nose. Like this, Jojo just can’t see the appeal.

“Howya lads”, Shay addresses them, evidently not having noticed the snoozing Valenti, “this is Brit. What are we doing?”

We. Jojo suppresses a scoff.

Before any of them get a chance to react, there’s movement on top of the bunk bed they’re surrounding, sparking instant panic: Valenti is waking up.

As soon as the Frenchman notices the raccoon socks dangling right in front of his face, he jerks in surprise and sets a domino effect in motion: the chair topples, dragging Jojo’s and Gian’s phones as well as the old-fashioned wall clock they stole from outside with it, and while Ivan skilfully snatches the chair in mid-air before it can crash into Dante’s tank, the clock shatters on the floor (but at least breaking the phones’ fall), prompting another twitch from Valenti and before they can actively think about it, Jojo and Gian are suddenly scrambling to catch the cascade of assorted objects toppling down.

Ivan Ivanovic manages to prevent another catastrophe by grabbing the container of glitter with his free hand, making all of them breathe a sigh of relief.

There’s a small silence once everything has either gone splat on the ground or been cradled safely in their arms. Confusedly, Valenti eyes the mess either still in his bed, in Ivan’s, Gian’s and Jojo’s hands, or littered on the floor. “Are you serious?”, he mutters and yawns heartily. Then, after spotting something in particular: “You used your phones? Please tell me you at least took pictures beforehand.”

“We are no amateurs”, Ivan shoots back and nods to where his smartphone is sticking out of his pocket. “Of course we take pictures.”

“Can I see?”, Brittany bursts out excitedly. She looks way too entertained anyway, as if they’d orchestrated this chaos purely for her sake. “In college, stacking things on sleeping people was my favourite thing. Oh, and writing on them.”

“A classic”, the Russian agrees and readily pulls up his gallery after having set down the chair to show her, “I have photo of writing too somewhere.”

“Don’t show her that”, Valenti protests immediately. “You drew all over my chest, that’s not appropriate!”

“If my memory serves correctly, there was an instance of Shay exhibiting various pro-England slogans”, Gian joins the conversation now too, “proclaiming his undying admiration of the Queen, for example.”

“I told you they’re ruthless”, Shay dejectedly addresses the only woman among them, making her chuckle and quietly urge Ivan to show her said photos as well.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you lot!”, she erupts once more, apparently remembering where she is. “I’ve heard so much about all of you. Please call me Brit.”

And thus commences the general Fawning Over A Female. It’s a ritual Jojo has witnessed countless times in his life and as time progressed, it only became more sickening. Beginning with a funny introduction – nothing major, either a self-deprecating detail (I’m generally responsible for the trouble we end up in) or an allusion to an anecdote (I threw him over fence, don’t know if you have heard story) –, then followed up by desperately trying to include her into the group (Shay briefly mentioned a potential interest in video games, would you be willing to dare an attempt at playing some time soon?). Her laughter is suddenly more contagious than the plague, and there’s no doubt she’s drinking in all this attention lavished onto her like an alcoholic.

The lack of girls among the Rainbow recruits must’ve gotten to them. Even Ivan Ivanovic is being courteous, there’s no other word for it. Boot-licking maybe. If you can even call knock-off Uggs boots. Valenti is going cross-eyed with how much he’s trying not to ogle her and even Gian of all people seems dead set on winning her over.

Pitiful.

“Yeah, hi, I’m Jojo”, he interrupts her before she can get the words out (and it took her long enough to turn to him, the only guy in the room not beaming at her like a lunatic), “and I got a mess to clean up.” With that, he turns away to pick up the shit off the floor which Valenti kicked everywhere. He’s not known for tidying up, especially not voluntarily, but no one bats an eye.

After all, he’s not known for flirting with girls, either.

Brit hardly counts as a woman; with her freakishly large eyes, overdone expressions and exuberant behaviour, she’s infantile. Pretty? Maybe. Perhaps under all that make-up not so much. But pretty enough to melt his friends’ brains. She’s delighted over that stupid snake and pretends like nothing’s more interesting than hearing all about Valenti’s piano lessons, and they’re eating it up as if she was a date they snagged despite never expecting to.

Then, all of a sudden, something dawns on him. Something which has him freeze instantly and turn back to the giggling posse.

“How did you get in?”, he asks loudly, not bothering to apologise to an irritated-looking Valenti for talking over him.

Abruptly, the noise dies down. They get what he’s asking – except for Shay, whose grey cells might’ve been sucked out of him by this doll and dear fucking God, that’s a mental image for which Jojo only has himself to blame. “She parked outside and we walked in”, Shay clarifies, pointing in a seemingly random direction. “By the skip, you know. Why?”

Gian looks positively horrified. “They – they merely allowed you entry?”

The happy couple exchanges a glance, nonplussed. “Yeah? I mean, they know me.”

“What did you say you worked as? A waitress?”, Jojo can’t help but ask with a sickly sweet smile. “Shay, you fucking moron, you brought a waitress into an SAS base. She’s a civ!”

“Oh, is that what this is?”, Brittany clarifies cheerfully. “I was wondering about all the security.”

Jojo’s no longer wondering why these two airheads ended up together. By now, he’s only clueless as to how they found each other at all with how much they’re bumbling through life. “Yeah, you gotta go. Your man’s getting eviscerated if they find you.”

Despite the shocked faces around her, she’s still perky. “Ah, it’s not going to be that bad.”

Valenti pulls a face which Jojo feels in his guts. “If you think that, you can’t be very aware of our reputation.”

And this is when they suddenly notice boots stomping down the hall. Familiar boots. On the way to their room.

“Goodbye cruel yet magnificent world”, Gian mutters, already accepted his fate, whereas Shay and Jojo exchange a single glance – enough to ensure they’re on the same page. Which hurts. Despite all the mayhem and impending doom, Jojo has the brain capacity left to realise he’s never been this in tune with anyone else he’s ever met.

They grab the nearest blanket – Valenti’s, causing even more items to topple to the floor – and hold it up in front of Brit and Ivan, trapping them between two bunk beds yet shielding them from the door. Well, to be exact, it’s only Brittany who can’t be spotted anymore. Ivan’s eyes are still peeking over the edge.

Sledge barges in without so much as a knock (which is fair enough as it’d only give them more time to hide any evidence), and finding himself in front of five recruits staring at him, unmoving, doesn’t seem to quell his suspicions. Oddly enough. “Which one of you clogged the showers?”, he barks as a greeting and Jojo doesn’t even get that usual pang of I wonder if he orders Maestro around like this at home. He doesn’t know when the Scot’s broad frame became less attractive than gangly limbs and a crooked grin.

“First of all, I find it very disrespectful to assume it was one of us”, Valenti starts with as much indignation as he can muster while nearly shaking in his boots, “you can’t just default to us every time something goes wrong, it’s unfair and -”

“Shut up, Jean.” The Frenchman’s mouth snaps shut. “Who was it?” Sheepishly, Gian, Jojo and Valenti raise their hands. “Bloody knew it. If it’s not in mint condition by supper, you won’t be getting any. Now drop the blanket and let me see what else you broke.”

“Ivan’s indecent”, Shay quickly butts in, earning himself a withering glare. There’s movement now, and instead of standing stock still, Brit is sliding under one of the beds while trying to make as little noise as possible.

“Come on. Let me see, lads.” They manage to dodge Sledge’s hands until he eventually rips the duvet out of theirs to face the explosion caused by Valenti’s awakening earlier. The Scot eyes the mess suspiciously. “That’s it?”

“I really was indecent”, Ivan replies, deadpan. “We were comparing. Would you like to -”

Sledge’s face contorts in vague horror. “God no. I’ve heard enough. I better not catch any of you causing more trouble for a week, there’s only so much nonsense I’m willing to take.”

With that, he storms off, leaving them to gather around an extremely dusty-looking Brit with cobwebs in her glossy brown hair. Her muted expression soothes something in Jojo.

“Now we just have to get you out of here and we’re good”, Shay announces, sounding hopeful and pointedly ignoring the disbelieving looks of his friends. “Got any ideas, lads?”

The Frenchman is the only one looking contemplative instead of bleak. “I might have one.”

.

“Do we, uh”, Valenti begins hesitantly, fidgeting when attentive eyes shift over to him, “do we have blueprints of Hereford? Somewhere? Just out of curiosity? Maybe you’ve heard of a secret passageway to the Outside? A path theoretically possible but no one dares to use it?”

Jäger examines them, visibly fighting a smile. They approached the German engineer for no other reason than his involvement in their highly successful weapon of Christ-mass destruction and the fact that he didn’t rat them out, quite the opposite. They’ve discussed alternatives, a conversation Brittany followed with increasing entertainment, and decided against Smoke and Mute despite their love for mischief and support for anything threatening Sledge’s and Thatcher’s composure: the two are simply too unreliable and would indubitably sell them out for a Curly Wurly. There’s no love lost between any recruit and most of Rainbow, and the operators who do actually care about them are the ones who’d chastise them for causing any kind of trouble.

So they’ve snuck into the workshop, hoping their usual invisibility works in their favour.

“Gustave told me not to interact with you five anymore”, Jäger replies, though his lowered voice implies the opposite. “But you seem very polite. And reasonably desperate. Why do you ask?”

“We might be wanting to smuggle something out”, Jojo explains. It’s odd to talk to his fellow countryman in English and not his mother tongue, but he vividly remembers the previous time he tried to converse with Bandit in German. If he’d thought the man’s swearing and threats couldn’t get any worse than what he produces in English, he was sorely mistaken.

“Like what?”

Girlfriends, Jojo thinks. “Live cargo?”, he offers. Shay pulls a face.

“Oh. Did you adopt a stray animal?”

When he makes a pensive expression, he earns an elbow between his ribs. “Listen. We can’t talk about it. Can you help us?”

“Not without seriously upsetting my boyfriend, no. I’m already on thin ice after I accidentally helped Dom spike the afternoon coffee.”

That’s fair enough, thinks Jojo. So maybe they need something more… straightforward. He suddenly has an idea.

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“Is it theoretically possible to use a trebuchet to catapult someone?”, Jojo wants to know interestedly and almost regrets asking the moment Mira’s face lights up.

“Of course! Do you have one at the ready or would you need to construct one first?”

The five of them exchange uncertain glances, so the Spaniard enthusiastically begins sketching out all the materials needed, complete with dimensions and tools. In fact, it’s a tad concerning how easily she outlines all the necessary steps and has Jojo wonder about her past – this sort of thing seems to come naturally to her. Engrossed, they follow her instructions with nods and mental notes and eventually accept the several sheets of construction paper with elaborate thanks. Consulting her was Jojo’s idea and he based it on Mira’s helpfulness and general spirit when it came to building… anything, really.

“Now have fun and don’t be afraid to use your hands. Making things is incredibly rewarding. Good luck!” It doesn’t seem to bother her that she can’t even remember their names as she’s too focused on a task well done. Before they can turn around, however, she stops them with a last afterthought: “Wait – you didn’t need the person to survive being launched, did you?”

Before Shay even has the opportunity to get more upset than he already is, Ivan speaks up: “Never mind. I have idea.”

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Kapkan is sharpening a knife, with Fuze next to him cleaning a gun. The two Russians raised their gazes the moment they stepped outside and haven’t lowered them since, favouring a cold hard stare to intimidate over inspecting their own handiwork, which admittedly ends up being flawless despite the lack of attention. Otherwise, the two of them are unmoving.

Four of their expressions basically scream this is the worst fucking idea and only Ivan Ivanovic seems at ease. He nods curtly as a greeting and receives likewise, but when the rest of them attempt an equally cool gesture, they’re scrutinised even more closely as a result. Jojo is genuinely anxious; being in the same room as any other Spetsnaz always causes an uncomfortable itching just below his skin. Except for Ivan, of course.

“Why are we here again?”, Valenti whispers while trying to hide behind Shay, and winces when Kapkan’s eyes flick over to him.

“Guard on entry”, Ivan says, clearly not beating around the bush, “who is it today?”

The two operatives glance at each other. “Perkins”, Fuze replies, and Kapkan adds: “Pain in the ass. Why?”

“He could have accident. Two minutes.”

Holy fucking shit. Jojo feels all colour drain from his cheeks.

“Yes, he could have”, Kapkan concurs. “But it would cause a lot of attention. Potentially. Sounds like it’s not worth it.”

“It is”, Ivan emphasises and that’s the moment Valenti finally snaps out of his disbelieving stupor and drags the Russian away while muttering what could be either French swearwords or a bread recipe, Jojo isn’t sure.

“Thanks anyway!”, he yells over his shoulder as he quickly follows the others, their ranks breaking down more with every passing second. “No hard feelings! We won’t tell!”

“I cannot shake the feeling that this has ensured our demise”, Gian mumbles and Shay, just as pale as Jojo feels, simply nods.

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“To be honest, I don’t mind spending some more time with this cutie”, Brittany waves off Shay’s concern the moment they’re back in their room. “I’ve never even touched a snake and Dante is a real gentleman, so don’t worry about me.”

“Are you out of your mind?”, Valenti hisses in the background, audibly furious. “No matter whether Perkins is a piece of shit, he’s SAS and we’d be dead meat!”

“They would have tied together shoelaces”, Ivan unsuccessfully tries to appease him. “Or something like it. Better idea than hoping Hereford is Hogwarts, with secret tunnel.”

The Frenchman turns a lovely shade of dark red which almost matches his scarf. “Really? You call involving the Russian mob a better idea? At least I didn’t try to turn her into ammunition!”

“Hey, no need to lash out just because you didn’t get your letter when you turned ten”, Jojo chimes in, feeling his own annoyance spike.

“My suggestion was reasonable at least and wouldn’t have ended with her splattering into giblets.”

Thankfully, Gian steps in before the two of them can get into yet another shouting match: “May I propose the simple yet effective art of social engineering?”

Oh. This sounds like it could actually go somewhere.

“But we already talked to Jäger”, Shay speaks up, confused, and Jojo doesn’t know whether to hug or laugh at him.

“A tried and tested example of this involves carrying a ladder into various establishments”, Gian explains. “The key is to seem so average, everyone else’s eyes glide right past.”

Shay is still frowning. “Don’t call her average.”

“Darling -”, Jojo begins to set him straight, but is interrupted by Brit: “No, he just wants me to carry a ladder.”

It’s immensely satisfying to have Ivan raise an eyebrow and then, very quietly, murmur into Jojo’s general direction: “Match made in a very chaotic heaven.”

“Fairly sure we can find a recruit’s uniform that fits her”, Valenti picks up Gian’s idea and has the happy couple react with an intrigued ohh.

.

“Doesn’t look too bad”, Jojo decides as he inspects the sixth recruit in their group. Brit is noticeably too thin and the make-up peeking out through the holes in the balaclava aren’t reassuring, but she might just pass. “Are you a decent liar?”

“About as good as I am”, Shay replies in her stead, prompting the others to exchange glances clearly spelling out we’re doomed.

“In that case, just don’t talk. Leave it to us. If you’d be forced to answer, maybe pretend you don’t understand English.”

“Why can’t I be mute?”, she asks, making Shay shake his head.

“He’s much taller than you are, Brit, that would never work.”

Bless him. To hell and back. This is the same guy Jojo trusts with his life, and he knows Shay would never let him down in a mission. Yet he’s so child-like in the most charming way, wide-eyed and curious, gullible and excitable. And, at times, really really dim. Not that it matters as their continued survival rests in his girlfriend’s hands right now, and she still doesn’t seem to have grasped the severity of the situation. While Jojo isn’t sure of the repercussions to inviting a civ unannounced, they can’t be great, especially with their history of either demolishing or disrespecting anything that’s not nailed down (and even some of what actually is).

Trying to appear nonchalant, they saunter through the corridor like they belong, naturally crowding around Brittany so it’s less obvious she has no idea where she’s going and hoping they don’t meet too many eagle-eyed operators. Female recruits are few and far between, so it’s indeed possible someone like Montagne or Doc, who interact with them often enough, would raise an eyebrow.

Fortunately, the first person they run into is Rook. Not only is he well-known for being sociable and friendly, he’s also comfortable with English and French only. Brit can easily claim being Russian and avoid any questioning with a thick accent.

“Hey, guys”, Rook greets them cheerfully. “Who’s your extra? A new recruit?”

“Yes, but unfortunately her English skills aren’t -”, Gian begins just as the masked woman blurts out: “Ah oui, pardonnez-moi, je suis française.”

Oh.

Well.

The panic in her eyes is visible as Rook, delighted, starts babbling to her in rapid French before Valenti replies with a few curt sentences and then drags her with him accompanied by excuses as loud as they are insincere.

So far, the plan is working beautifully.

“I’ve never met an American who could speak French!”, Brittany whispers in her own defence as they leave the building. “I thought it was a safe bet.”

“You have something more exotic?”, Ivan wants to know. They’re not far from the gate now, with a bit of luck they’ll make it.

And then they’re greeted by another familiar voice, a voice at which Gian’s ears perk up almost visibly. If there was ever the equivalent of a friendship crush, this would be it – Gian would give his right arm to be able to bask in this man’s presence, which says a lot as the ginger makes sure not to play favourites. But Castle? Castle is his celebrity. Castle is to him what Sledge is to the rest of them.

Unfortunately, Castle is also well-armed when it comes to languages.

Jojo already sees himself ejected straight out of Rainbow as soon as Castle realises the new recruit in their midst is a fraud, which will be incoming in a second or two, as soon as Brit chooses Spanish or maybe German or even Latin -

What comes out of her mouth, however, is nothing Jojo has ever heard. It sounds so unfamiliar that his heart soars, even if there’s a shred of doubt still – it’s so foreign she might as well have made it up despite how confident she seems. It’s perfect. Whatever it is, maybe Arabic or Nigerian, who knows, will definitely throw Castle for a loop.

His confidence lasts for all of a heartbeat. Because the operator, momentarily baffled, responds in the same odd vernacular.

To everyone’s bewilderment, Brit doesn’t seem to mind as she continues, exchanging a few phrases with an increasingly jolly Castle and then waving goodbye before strutting off towards freedom, leaving the boys at her heels.

“That wasn’t Korean”, Valenti mutters. “What did you -”

“I can’t believe it”, Shay pants, and for once, he’s breathless, “you speak Klingon?!”

“You do too?! buy’qu’ ngop!”

Holy shit. Jojo isn’t sure whether his eyes can roll any further into his skull. This is so fucking in character for everyone involved he should’ve seen it coming a mile away.

While the two nerds continue gushing, to Valenti and Gian’s amusement and Jojo’s frustration, Ivan Ivanovic breaks off from the group, in the direction of the small office by the gate.

“I will tie shoelaces together”, he announces quietly.

.

That evening, when they’re all huddled together for warmth in one of their secret hideouts – the attic of one of Hereford’s practise houses –, the atmosphere feels different. Where just a week ago, Shay would’ve spent several hours typing on his phone, wholly engrossed in whichever inane conversation he was having with his paramour, today he’s much more involved. Not that he’s participating in the impromptu Smash Bros. tournament Valenti put together on the spot as soon as Ivan mentioned being able to beat him (though neither of them have ever touched the game prior to this), but at least he’s looking up whenever one of them hoots. Now and then, he relays Brit’s opinions about the evening, making most of them laugh: once they’d successfully jailbroken her, they all went to a nearby café to allow for some time to pass (and the poor barista thought she was getting robbed for a moment). Brittany must’ve really enjoyed herself nonetheless, inquired some more about Dante and those ‘weird polyglot Americans’.

Yes, Shay’s attention is slowly shifting back to them now that both bubbles have come into contact, and he’s probably hoping they’ll merge with time. Valenti and Gian seem relieved by this change, they must’ve missed him too, whereas Ivan Ivanovic is his usual inscrutable self. He gave nothing away, though he must’ve noticed Jojo has bummed quite a lot of cigarettes off him recently.

Jojo hates it.

He hates the way Shay’s entire face lights up when Gian comments on one of Brit’s remarks, hates how the others have just… accepted her. Because it doesn’t involve him. He didn’t fall for her womanly charm and he seems to be the only one who’s not picking up what she’s putting down. The others laugh and it almost feels like an attack. If he wants to keep being a part of this group, he has to like her, it implies. He better make an effort.

Even if he really doesn’t want to.

“Shay”, he addresses his former best friend during a brief lull, “how come you didn’t contribute any ideas earlier?”

The idiot either hasn’t noticed Jojo’s gloomy mood or has chosen to ignore it graciously. His smile is genuine, like someone whose faith in his so-called best friend is unshaken, and Jojo’s heart throbs. “Honestly, I was so happy about her being here that I didn’t even think. At all.”

“That is utterly endearing”, Gian replies, and Valenti goes awww and Jojo thinks: I’m gonna throw up in my mouth.

After Valenti has K.O.’d Ivan using Jigglypuff (something about which he’ll brag for at least a year), Jojo requests another cigarette break and only narrowly resists asking for a hug first thing when cold air hits them. The Russian is watching him closely, probably expecting an outburst of some kind and normally wouldn’t be far off. But Jojo’s feeling too pathetic to conjure up his trademark anger, and so they stand in silence for a while. “Is it just me or is she a bit of a slag?”, Jojo eventually bursts out when he can’t take it anymore.

Ivan isn’t smiling now. He takes his time answering. “Just you”, he says calmly.

“So you want to get into her undies as well, Ivanko?” The silence stretches on long enough so Jojo can berate himself mentally for voicing his thoughts out loud.

“No. She is nice. I like her.” The simplicity of his statements drives home just how true they are. With a pointed look, he adds: “We all do.”

And this we, again, doesn’t include Jojo.