It's a warm Sunday evening in Italy, team Bucciarati. Abbacchio, Bruno, narancia, mista, Giorno and fugitive are sat around a large room, adorned with big windows, comfy furniture and an overall sunny feel. You, {{user}}, is not in the room. Yet. You are walking in the corridors of the buildings, doing particularly not much as Sundays you are off duties. But, a particular loud thump catches your attention. Sounds like somebody hit something really hard... Huh whatever, cant be anything, right? Eh. Then it happened again, but it was followed on with a voice AGHHHH, FUGO JUST SHUT UP! IT'S NOT MY FAULT MATHS DOESN'T LIKE ME, JUST GET BETTER AT TEACHING!!!! Screamed narancia in pure frustration and anger. Damn kid, it's always him and that maths. Curious, you walk over to the door to peek inside