2/2

"Thanks kid, but I think you're supposed to tell me that after I get dolled up for this party thing." She informed him with a bit of bemusement, patting him on the back with the arm holding him up. "You're a little early with that."

"But you are pretty."

Blinking, the thief shot the hitman a sideways look. "That sounds like a line."

"I would never tell him to say that." He insisted with fake wounded dignity, pressing a hand to his chest. "That was entirely too tawdry to come from me."

Nurse who Sonya barely recalled a name for gave a gasp and fainted dead away.

Entirely baffled, she stared down at her insensible form then shot a look at the Mafioso that invited her here. "What's wrong with her now?"

"...I have no idea." Renato drawled dryly, giving her a moderately exasperated one in return. "It might be the fact she just had a close encounter with a Cloud that didn't really care for her much, and almost ticked said Cloud off enough to have her arms removed and beaten with them?"

With a huff, Sonya snatched her luggage from the man with her free arm. "I am not that bad."

"You can be, it's just that you're not usually." He countered calmly, entirely unbothered by her actions. "It makes you a little... unpredictable, you know. Your eyes were also purple, when she tried to take Shamal from you."

"Yes, well... she's not all that bright, is she?" She bit back her annoyance over the news the girl did manage to provoke such a response from her. "Where are you sticking me for the next few days, anyways?"

"This way... on second thought, just follow me."

CXCVI (Saturday the 23rd of December, 1967. Iron Fort, Italian Republic.)

She had managed to guess the right region of Italy for Vongola's headquarters, if not the right landmass.

The massive Italian Famiglia was based out of the southern end of the country, just at the very tip of the 'boot' shaped landmass and not on the island of Sicily. The Consulenza Esterna Della Famiglia was based on the island, and the thief assumed that when it came time for it the Varia would probably end up near or around where Renato's inherited syndicate was currently.

In short, basically the entire southern half of the country was practically Vongola territory, counting various alliances and lesser famiglia that looked to them for protection.

The 'Iron Fort' itself was still in the process from being converted from a fully functioning World War Two bunker/war headquarters into a stately if grandiose mansion. Even if there was going to be a ball in as little as three days, there was still scores of what seemed like personally maintained construction crews reshaping the fortified walls into less bland eyesores.

It would still be an 'iron' fortress, just a prettier one.

Sonya didn't see a whole lot of it, because the staff had a nasty habit of staring at her.

That unnerved her, especially for a foreign criminal in a native's home base, making her both twitchy and a little nervous. She couldn't figure out why they kept sneaking little peeks her way or blatantly gawking at her passing, other than the fact she was a Russian in Italy.

Unfortunately, 'twitchy' and 'nervous' weren't good states for any Cloud. To distract herself, the thief practically abducted Shamal for long walks around the local town while Renato had 'Don' duties to attend to.

Also... to not get herself in trouble with the massive libraries and her little book hoarding issues.

The hitman was still trying to fob his newly acquired famiglia off on Nono Vongola, if he could only solve whatever little problem that popped up. He got highly busy in the few days they were waiting for the Ball to kick off, making connections for his inherited syndicate and trying to search out a decent candidate to replace him from Vongola's pool of Mafiosi.

Much too busy to spend any time showing her around or just presenting her as his Soviet 'contact', which irked him something fierce.

Since she did recognize he had values and some kind of honor thing tied into his 'ladies' man' persona, she only asked he show up for breakfast with her and insisted she would be fine with the brat.

He was the reason she agreed to any of this after all.

Renato hadn't been exactly happy with that, shooting her a look to say he knew perfectly well what she was doing and that she wasn't really alright, but at least he didn't imitate her Flame type while in those meetings.

Baby Mist was not at all opposed to spending time with the Russian thief instead of whatever school things his Vongola caretakers were trying to cram into the kids' heads before the winter-New Year's break. He took ruthless advantage of her upset state with the Iron Fort's staff and got her to buy his guardian a Christmas gift, guilt-tripping her into it by claiming she had missed the hitman's birthday.

Sonya's sour mutter of 'he was going to forget hers' didn't buy her any leniency.

It was on the return of that specific trip the day of the ball she was there for, with the tiny Mist holding his prize aloft like a victorious soldier returning from war, that she finally met Nono Vongola in the flesh.

The Don of the Famiglia she was staying with was returning from some appointment at the same time the Russian Storm-Cloud and her bratty Mist tagalong were from their walk.

"Miss Nikishina!" Timoteo Vongola called out before the two of them reached the front doors, causing the thief to start and look around for who was calling her by her maiden name. "A moment, if you would?"

Since the man was hosting her in his... fortress, and she was genuinely curious if a Sky had a 'feel', she collared Shamal before the brat could get more than a couple steps further and gently pulled him to a stop by the back of his light jacket. "Of course."

The Boss nodded in acceptance of her acceptance and turned to speak rapidly with one of his Guardians, which one she was too far away to tell but she was pretty sure that was Ganauche either the First or Second.

When the man finally reached her and the Mist brat, Sonya dipped into a curtsy and poked the brat in the back of the head to get him to bow at the right time. "Did you need something from me, Don Vongola?"

"I've been meaning to have a word with you for a few days now, but you seem to be a very active type of woman. Never in the same spot twice, as it were." Timoteo informed her with a small smile, which curiously reminded her of her Pakhan's. Like a shark's grin, a bit too much teeth showing to be genuinely well-meaning. "Is there a reason for that?"

"Your staff will not stop staring at me." The thief admitted bluntly, keeping half her attention on the baby Mist so he wouldn't get up to something while 'adult things' were going on. "While a typical Cloud of my Polarization would not care... I am not typical."

The man, who was arguably one of the more powerful figures in the mafia at the moment, gave her a look over and a slow nod. "I... see. I shall be blunt then, for I know Clouds prefer it. They cannot decide if you are a Cloud or not for you are, as you said, not typical for one."

"...I could knock someone through a couple walls, if you believe that would aid them?"

"You know, my dear, I cannot decide if you are being serious or joking."

"Entirely serious, Don Vongola." Sonya reassured the man blandly, poking Shamal in the forehead before he did whatever it was that required such concentration on the nearby rose bush. "They have irritated me more than enough for me to enjoy it, even if none but that one nurse has actually made a bad impression."

Timoteo's eyebrows flew upward, and the man she was sure was no more than a decade or so older than her rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully. "I heard about that incident. Was it necessary to scare poor Miss Daphne so?"

"Forgive me, Don Vongola, but all I did was glare." The thief was at least somewhat sure he was talking about that fainting nurse. "She was also the one who called me Shamal's 'imaginary friend' when I was standing in front of her."

"Ah... well, I understand then." Nono Vongola's shark-toothed grin was exchanged for a slightly more humor inspired one, which also looked a tiny bit more real on his face. "I would be most upset to be called imaginary to my own face as well."

"Sir, I hate to interrupt... but you do have a meeting in only a few minutes." The man wearing the ring of the Vongola Rain Guardian interjected, sounding completely bland and unruffled at the sudden attention aimed his way.

Well... Rain. He probably had to be one of the best to become a Vongola Guardian out of every Rain that called the Famiglia home.

"Ah, thank you Schnitten." Sonya blinked, but apparently that was the man's name... or title. "Save me a dance, Miss Nikishina? I've been meaning to ask you about how your Soviet Union sees Dying Will Flame users."

"Of course, Don Vongola. Although, I am not sure how much help I will be."

"From what Sinclair had to say, a little more than you will admit to in polite conversation." Timoteo hinted at with a sly seeming smirk, then gave her a nod and the still silent if somewhat sulky Shamal one as well as he finally entered the door the footman had been holding open since the blonde Russian got in range of it.

Huh... the thief couldn't decide if a Sky did have a 'feel' or not. She forgot to check.

CXCVII (Sunday the 24th of December, 1967. Iron Fort, Italian Republic.)

Renato irritably straightened his tie again in the mirror, not remotely looking forward to the evening's 'festivities'.

At least he had managed to get himself out of next year's Valentine's Day Ball, and hopefully he wouldn't have to attend very many more of these in future years.

While Sonya would improve the quality of the company he was going to be forced to accept, it wasn't like he held much confidence in getting her to agree to come along again. Unless the Russian really enjoyed the night, which wasn't likely for even she didn't particularly like dealing with a crowd of people.

The hitman spun on his heel, giving the watching Shamal an expectant look. "Well?"

"You look the same as you always do, Mister Renato." The annoying brat commented, idly playing with the box that had held the fedora he had somehow convinced a Storm-Cloud to buy for him. "Can we go see Miss Sonya now?"

Well... if that wasn't a sign of where he fell in the kid's esteem the hitman would give up drinking. Really, Sonya was only that highly thought of because she had more free-time to spend on him than he had lately.

"Yes, fine. Let's go collect a thief." He muttered mulishly, snatching up the rather fetching hat he had been gifted with.

At least Shamal had some taste, even if it was only for what Renato would accept. Maybe the thief had chipped in a little on that end?

It was a rather fine piece of work.

Black felt and with a band of bright canary yellow positioned just above the brim. His favorite colors.

Tetchy Mist brat scrambled to grabbed the bouquet of flowers the Russian had asked for, and practically bounced to the door of the hitman's guest suite. Rolling his eyes, the man himself followed him more sedately.

Shamal had been back and forth from Sonya's suite to everywhere else in the mansion so frequently over the last few days he would have traveled the distance blindfolded, so the Sun user was not remotely surprised the kid reached her door long before him.

He was surprised that she promptly answered the door instead of calling out for a 'minute'.

...so, he wasn't going to have to be fashionably late this evening. Pity.

"Shamal? Oh... perfect. I've been waiting for those."

Baby Mist rather dumbly stumbled into the thief's suite, which made Renato curious enough to pick up his pace.

Sonya was in the middle of picking out a couple red lilies from the flowers he had supplied, turning back to the floor-length mirror in the sitting room to thread the stems into her messy bun. "One moment, I'm almost done."

'When the hell did Sonya grow up' was the hitman's first thought, followed closely by 'damn...'

She really did have very nice legs, and with them clad in black leather to offset her bright red dress they drew the eye almost automatically. Not conforming to current fashions by showcasing she had curves in her fitted dress, she was also obviously female and proud to show it.

Her bicep full of tattoos would be a little out of place, but he didn't really see a reason for her not to show them off since he knew full well they were marks of her accomplishments in her native part of the world.

While she might not be in fashion, she was still shockingly different in a way that was very familiar.

He wondered if she was wearing stockings or garters for the strip of skin between knee and the hem of her dress.

"You look really pretty, Miss Sonya." Shamal informed her seriously, still holding onto the bundle of flowers until the thief took the rest of them and placed them in a nearby empty vase. "Really."

"You know, you use that line too much and it starts to get a tiny bit stale." She informed him a touch dryly, bending down and planting a wet kiss on his cheek. "But thank you."

Her action left a bright red lip mark on the Mist's rapidly reddening face and answered the hitman's internal question. Garters.

Sonya's grin was entirely roguish. "I dare you to leave that in place all night."

"Y-yeah? Well... I double dog dare you to do it to Mister Renato."

She glanced up at the hitman then back down to the kid. "We unfortunately have a party to attend... so maybe later."

Shamal sniffed at her.

"He'll have one by night's end."

"Do I get a say in this?" Renato managed to find his tongue in time to prevent this little counter-dare from going farther, huffing when the Russian shot him a bland smile and pulled her lipstick out of a bag on her couch to reapply the coat she lost to Shamal's still red cheeks.

Recapping the tube of makeup, Sonya cocked her head at him. "Are you dressed up? You look like you usually do."

The hitman glowered at her, which turned into a glare when she tossed her pack of cigarettes and her damn lipstick at him.

"What? This dress doesn't have pockets."

...no, no it didn't. At least, not one that wouldn't crush whatever was kept in it. "Why didn't you buy a clutch?"

"I don't do this kind of thing that often to recall every bit that goes into it." She waved that critique away with a shrug of barred shoulders, pulling a sheer red shawl out of her suitcase to loop around herself. "Also? I find it a tiny bit suspicious you know what that word means."

Renato glared at her harder, but the damn thief merely blinked back at him innocently as she attached a gold charm bracelet to her left wrist.

...were those axes?

Odd choice for jewelry.

Shamal, the brat, snickered.

CXCVIII (Sunday the 24th of December, 1967 continued. Iron Fort, Italian Republic.)

Sonya took a sip of her entirely too sweet champagne and then winced again as her eyes protested the sight of yet another party-goer. "Nine o'clock, the girl in the box-dress of neon pink and green."

The Iron Fort's ballroom, or one of them anyways, was a very beautiful room. High walls with mirrors inlaid on the wall that didn't have expanses of windows, three crystal chandeliers spaced evenly apart overhead, a theme of gold and orange in the decor offsetting the massive evergreen dressed up as a Christmas tree behind the orchestra pit.

It was a glittering high society showcase for a room full of major criminal puppet masters and their better socialized enforcers.

There were a good hundred or two people already within the ballroom before the hitman led her in, and it seemed as if there was yet another hundred or so more to go before the Ball really kicked off.

"...almost too easy." Renato informed her almost lazily. "Candy Cane reject that auditioned for Easter. The gentleman three groups away to the back-right."

Humming, she considered the man in houndstooth tweed for a moment. "A Sherlock Holmes wanna-be with too much pork. Same group, the man in blue."

"Someone who desperately needs Sherlock's pork instead of him. A group one closer to us from them, the girl with the hat."

"Which one? The girl with too much love for birds on her head, or the one that looks like a mourner in her Sunday-best?"

He huffed a light laugh, tilting his brand-new fedora up with one long finger to get a better look at the both of them. "Well... I suppose that counts as two."

"Why thank you, kind sir." She snarked back, slitting a sideways glance to him and taking in the smirk he was wearing. She was rather happy she could amuse him so, considering the last couple days he had been elbow deep in syndicate business he apparently didn't like much, and this was fun. "The bitch holding up the line."

Glancing over to Don Vongola and his current issue, the hitman snorted in disgust. "Croc-zilla. I actually know that woman, she's been trying to set me up with her eldest daughter."

"Not your type?"

"She looks like a horse," Renato muttered darkly, "and has all the personality of a dead mouse."

Sonya hummed noncommittally, ensuring her staring in that direction wouldn't attract attention by scanning the entire greeting line either waiting to say their few words to Timoteo Vongola and his Guardians or working past them to other famiglia Dons and their sons and daughters or seconds who had an alliance with Nono.

"I believe that will count as an extra, given you gave me both ladies a round before." The younger girl behind 'Croc-zilla' really did look like a horse.

"Much too kind, little lady Sonya."

"Probably." She agreed a touch dryly.

"Twelve o'clock, the lady in green." A new voice interjected, causing both hitman and thief to turn to see Tyr the Sword Emperor standing slightly behind them fully.

Sonya glanced that way, frowned, then took a slower look across the area the master assassin pointed out. "I actually can't get an impression of her, although I do see her."

With a puzzled sniff, Renato had to admit the same thing. "Odd... Mist?"

"Why hide it, then?"

He gave her red dress a pointed look. "You are."

"I am, only for this rumored snowball fight." She shook a red painted nail under his nose, ignoring the disgruntled look that passed over his face. "I didn't want to get multiple requests to help whatever team or group."

"You know, you weren't supposed to know that before attending." The hitman drawled, batting her hand away irritably. "Takes some of the fun out of it."

"Please, you're the one taking a Cloud to a snowball fight."

Renato sniffed in mock-disapproval that time. "My cheating isn't what's on the table, little lady Sonya."

"Right." She muttered in his direction, then looked back over to the master assassin still lingering on her other side. "Did you want to join our little game, Sword Emperor, or was there something else?"

Tyr slanted a sideways look at her of his own. "...do you have any ranged skills, Miss Sonya?"

"What, for the lady Mist in green? Range isn't really my thing." The thief admitted honestly but looked around anyways. The ballroom was large, but she wasn't really that far away. "One second."

Raw cranberries bounced, right?

Snagging one of the little berries off the table decoration behind the three of them, the Storm-Cloud placed it just so in her fingers, so she could flick the fruit with one hand, and took careful aim.

"A cranberry?" The hitman scoffed at her, sounding rather dismissive over her choice of weapon. "What kind of damage do you expect-"

He cut himself off when she flicked the berry, her Propagated force easily driving it the needed distance. It impacted the Mist woman's forehead a little high and bounced off with only a red mark left behind, she slumped to the ground in what appeared to be a faint in response.

"Oh dear, the lady in green seems to have been a little overwhelmed." Sonya commented idly, fighting hard to keep a smirk off her lips. "Master Tyr, does Vongola have anyone that can take her out for a bit of air?"

He gave her a deadpan stare in return, because one of the waiters was already moving to help the lady.

"What is with you and throwing things?" Renato asked tartly, taking his hat off to run a hand through his spiky hair once. "That rock when we met, now berries that you flick?"

"If I need range, I throw things." Sonya dismissed that with a shrug of bare shoulders. "With my strength, I don't need a gun to kill from more than ten paces away."

Huffing at that crack against his favored weaponry, the hitman all but sulked for a moment.

"Save me a dance, Miss Sonya." Tyr requested from her in his even but silky voice, giving them a short nod before striding away.

"Well... that's Nono Vongola and Master Tyr I owe a dance to." With a sigh, the thief regarded the low level in the champagne flute she had set down to fuss with a piece of fruit. Probably not safe to take another drink from, she had ignored it for a small bit and she was in a ballroom full of criminals. "There is not enough alcohol in this glass."

"When did Timoteo ask for a dance?"

"This afternoon. We, Shamal and I, met him coming back." She set her flute down again and looked around for the waiters circling with bottles of various liquors. "Do you think there's any vodka in the room?"

In the most unfair thing Sonya had seen yet, Tyr didn't really look at that dressed up either.

Why did she put so much effort into dressing up if the men weren't going to do it too?

CXCIX (Sunday the 24th of December, 1967 continued. Iron Fort, Italian Republic.)

While Renato managed to use dancing a turn with her to dodge the previously nicknamed 'Croc-zilla' and her daughter, Tyr cut in for the next number.

"You are not easily anticipated, Miss Sonya." The master assassin informed her in perfect London-accented English, demonstrating both knowledge for her preference in languages and very smooth movements on the dancefloor. "I have worked with Hard Cloud Flame users before, but you are nothing like them."

"I wonder about that sometimes." Sonya easily admitted, keeping up with little difficulty in the waltz. "I used to be worse, or more Cloud-like, in my childhood."

Lisa had ensured they all knew how to dance, even Cherep. Admittedly, Tyr was a bit taller than her brother and a bit smoother in motion. It was an interesting change.

Her fellow Cloud was a touch more durable, which did make dancing with the Italian fair a touch nerve-wracking.

"Any reason for the change?"

"I have some theories, a few I puzzled out myself and a couple suggestions."

The Sword Emperor's lips twitched, in either a still-born frown or smile it was hard to guess. "Do I need to ask?"

She huffed through her nose, wondering why he was so interested to be as direct as this. "A few of them are slightly obvious. A Cloud can raise another Cloud, their children who follow their parent's Flame type are example of this. With varying degrees of success, but still. I also moved, around my fifth birthday. If that disrupted whatever 'territory claiming' a young Cloud does or not is questionable, and so is the results for a Cloud that does not establish a territory of their own. A few others are more personal, so I will refrain from speaking of them unless they prove true."

"The problem would be finding a Cloud early enough to test that." Commented the master assassin neutrally, spinning them around to avoid a less graceful pair. "Your type is... not easily found."

"Are they? Or do only the 'strongest' Clouds within each region become the only active users of it and their 'patrolling' suppress any others so it merely appears that way? I know another active Cloud, my foster father would be if he chose to, and another vor I know of has the same type and isn't actively a user either. Is that 'rareness' really because Clouds are rare or because we are less eye catching or eccentric when young and rarely get the chance to grow into it?"

"Those are good questions," Tyr admitted after a few beats of musing over her queries, then pulled them to a smooth halt when the orchestra finished the piece with a flourish, "ones I look forward to hearing how they are answered. Thank you for the dance, Miss Sonya."

The Russian curtsied as he gave a half-bow to her before walking away, wondering if that last comment meant he wanted to be kept informed or would be watching her to see when she could answer them.

It wasn't really clear, and it could be that both were correct.

Looking around at where the master assassin left her Sonya couldn't see Renato in the nearby crowd, but she could see Don Vongola and his Guardians.

Timoteo spotted her practically at the same time.

"Miss Nikishina, I believe you owe me a turn on the floor." He informed her a touch loudly, smoothly disengaging from a knot of other men his Cloud Guardian apparently named Visconti moved to block from following him.

"Nono Vongola, I believe I do." The thief greeted and admitted in return, wryly musing that this was probably why Tyr left her there instead of in range of the hitman she was attending the ball with.

"Imagine that, the next number is about to begin." Taking her offered hand, he whirled them out onto the dance floor just as smoothly as the head of the Varia could. "Forgive me for using you like a shield, but I really could do with a break."

"According to Renato, that's pretty much my main function for this party." Sonya informed him with a dry smirk, noting that in closer quarters Timoteo did have a 'pull'.

One that made her spine snap straight and gave her an... odd feeling.

A Sky like Nono Vongola apparently made her want to do something probably foolish. She squashed the urge with some difficulty, because not only was now a bad time for anything like that but the man already had a Cloud Guardian.

"You two aren't dating?"

"What? Oh... no, I've known Renato for a while now, he's... well, we're trying to be friends." With an only slightly awkward smile for that comment, the thief shrugged her bared shoulders. "We started out as casual drinking partners, even if the choice of poison back then was tea and coffee. Or espresso, for him anyways."

The Sky apparently hadn't known that tidbit, as he hummed as he considered the news.

"Um... Don Vongola? May I ask a question?"

"As long as you do not mind I will ask one in return later."

Fair enough... even if he already got a question in. "Aren't you married?"

If he was, his wife had been missing all night. Sonya hadn't caught a glimpse of anyone that could've been Mrs. Timoteo Vongola all night, and that bugged her slightly.

"My Fiorella is currently pregnant with our third child, my dear." The man informed her willingly enough.

She blinked in surprise. "Oh, I see. My foster mother is also pregnant, so you have my sympathies. As well as my hopes she has a safe birth."

"Thank you." Timoteo graciously accepted with a nod, spinning them to a halt right next to a very vexed looking hitman. "Renato, your lovely date."

"Thank you, Nono. Especially since Tyr didn't quite have the manners to bring her back promptly." The man kept the snark to a minimum, but the tacked-on sentence sounded a little bitchy.

Probably because there were two middle-aged women standing near him currently eyeing Sonya as if their disapproval would matter to her. They had probably been trying to get his attention, either on their person or to try to get the man interested in their daughters.

The Russian gave them a sharp, toothy grin and the two biddies promptly found something else to do.

Probably because she purposely allowed her eyes to glow with Cloud Flames. She had the time recently to at least figure out how to specifically cause that, which might help her prevent it happening unconsciously.

Timoteo turned what was probably a laugh into a very convincing cough and handed the thief back over to the hitman with a nod of his head. "You are very talented, Miss Sonya."

"Thank you, Don Vongola. You aren't half bad of a dancer yourself."

CC (Monday the 25th of December, 1967. Iron Fort, Italian Republic.)

Given the hitman decided unilaterally that she had been remiss in her 'shield' duties, Renato didn't let Sonya go very far from his person for the rest of the night.

Which, although the two dances she owed to Tyr and Timoteo were the cause, the thief didn't really mind all that much.

She didn't know even a percentage of the native Italians crammed into the ballroom, meaning any conversation she would be getting for the night was either with the hitman or with people she didn't know and probably wouldn't care for the opinions of.

The Russian blessed her Cloud Flames more than once before the Ball finally closed for the evening, because not only could she keep up with a Sun hiding out on the dancefloor but Clouds were 'discouraged' from actively participating in the snowball fight afterwards.

Mid-winter at a tropical climate or not, Vongola imported snow for their 'traditional' snowball fight. Cloud Flame users were generally in charge of making snowballs, and greatly abused their ability for Propagation to do so.

Cloud Flame snowballs were a little slushy, but if it had been a touch or two colder there might have been a way to slightly refreeze them using the coolers... probably hence why Clouds were discouraged from actually pitching their snowballs about.

Including Sonya and Visconti, there were six Cloud Flame users at the Ball. One man she was fairly certain was one of Tyr's people, a man who she was sure had been hanging around Don Bovineo, and two others she didn't recognize at all.

The Russian did figure out that Cloud and Storm Flames mixed into a snowball made them explode. Into warm water, but they did splash everyone nearby when they went off. Renato gleefully monopolized her recent findings in 'snow-warfare' for the fight, even nailing 'Croc-zilla' in the back of the head with one.

Clouds weren't very social people, so the continued silence for most of the snowball fight suited Sonya just fine even with her slight Storm natured influence.

It wasn't until the fight was over, read 'everyone that hated someone else was done trying to soak them to the bone' so it took until the early hours of dawn, that she overheard a comment that made her start.

"Wait... we weren't supposed to be armed during this?"

Ganauche, the First apparently, gaped at her. "You are armed? Where the hell are you hiding it?"

He even gestured to her tight red dress, probably alluding to the fact she had zero pockets where something bigger than a card could be hidden.

Sonya scoffed at him and his crude gesturing. "You need imagination."

"Sonya... really?" Renato asked with a smirk, apparently still close enough to overhear her conversation with Nono's Lightning Guardian. "...what is it?"

She gave him an equally disgruntled glare, plucking at her bracelet of mini axes. "You can't guess for yourself?"

"Those things? They're tiny."

The thief twitched at the dismissal, shooting the Lightning a dark look of his own again. "How much do you want to bet on that?"

"They are tiny. What were you going to do, papercut someone to death?" Ganauche insisted, actually having the gall to look insulted.

His yelp when Sonya ripped one of her ax charms off and re-sized it with a flair of Cloud Flames before burying it in the ground a hair's breadth away from his toes was satisfyingly high-pitched. "Repeat that, I dare you."

"...you brought a battle ax, to a ball." Renato clarified for everyone suddenly looking in their direction, sounding as if he was repressing his laughter by sheer will.

"I prefer polearms, but those are a little too long to wear like charms." Admitted the Russian blandly, touching her bun to ensure they were still there. "So those are in my hair instead."

The hitman grinned darkly, taking her broken charm bracelet from her to inspect the other six gold axes still hanging off it. "Anything else?"

"My pendant, although that would be a rather awkward hammer to try and wield. I was planning on throwing it if I had to."

"So... you weaponized your jewelry." He summarized gleefully, letting her bracelet dangle in the air so Nono Vongola could get a good look of his own in. "Really Sonya? I didn't even bring my gun."

She shot him a dry look. "The gun you 'didn't bring' is strapped to the left side of your chest. Right this very moment."

Renato coughed sheepishly under Timoteo's level gaze, and the Russian shrugged when the man turned it on her.

The Ninth head and current Sky of Vongola sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I wonder if I should bother feeling surprised... or be more irritated my security missed the both of you sneaking weapons in."

The hitman jerked a thumb at the thief. "She's the one that snuck in her own armory."

She flipped him off. "You're the one packing heat."

Schnitten chipped in with his own two cents. "The armory is a little more impressive, actually."

"I would think a gun is of more concern." Bouche Croquant, the dark-skinned and redheaded Mist Guardian Sonya only met an hour before this, countered in his deep voice.

When Timoteo started to laugh as his Guardians started to bicker which one was 'better', Sonya actually has some hope they weren't going to get into trouble for this.