Mah, di certo. S'just practice. Lots of practice. It took me a while after my dad taught me. But at least you've got lots of pants, right? Ha.

[ Those tiny tells Alberto's good for... He means to make a wry joke, but it stands to reason, even with as little as he's revealed about his childhood or upbringing, yeah, Alberto probably didn't have a lot of spare clothes to practice on, growing up. Reasons unclear, but still fair enough logic. Sea monster on land and all...

Alberto leans forward to grab a seam ripper for Katsuki from the supplies he'd gathered, only to realize he'd forgotten to grab one. So with that worrying wry joke, he finds excuse to bolt and smooth right over it, jumping up out of his seat to dash over to his workspace again. From a jar crammed with paint brushes, he produces... a steak knife. He runs back over to their spot in the cushions, totally unnecessary in such a small flat, and uh, when carrying a knife. But he plops down with it just as carelessly as one might expect of Alberto. Listless as he is, it seems he's getting his spark back bit by bit the more time he spends with Katsuki today. He hands the knife over, blade first, thinking nothing of it. ]

Here. Rip open the threads to make your hole.