[He could have dealt with reprimand, but Bruno never was the type. He could have handled anger, but there's nothing to be angry about, not really, not on either side. Silence would have been wonderful, would have allowed him long moments to pull himself together - but no.]
[What he gets instead is kindness, and Giorno, Don Giovanna, head of Passione, is utterly unprepared for it. His shoulders stiffen as he freezes on the way to the counter, as he considers whether or not to turn or to keep going.]
[In the end, he turns, his expression unreadable, and he offers the facts, just the facts, in tones that sound like a report.]
Diavolo is dead.
[Dead dead dead. Over and over again dead, locked in a never-ending loop of his own carnage, and Giorno doesn't regret it, he doesn't regret a thing. You killed my family. You deserve this.]
Trish and Mista are fine. We all made it through.
Passione is mine now.
[This is different from saying I am don. Even the don can have an incomplete grasp over his own domain. But Passione belongs to him, and nothing happens without him knowing about it, and he is changing things, slowly but surely and irreversibly.]
[His expression doesn't change at all from its carefully blank facade, but what he says next comes out without his permission.]
no subject
[What he gets instead is kindness, and Giorno, Don Giovanna, head of Passione, is utterly unprepared for it. His shoulders stiffen as he freezes on the way to the counter, as he considers whether or not to turn or to keep going.]
[In the end, he turns, his expression unreadable, and he offers the facts, just the facts, in tones that sound like a report.]
Diavolo is dead.
[Dead dead dead. Over and over again dead, locked in a never-ending loop of his own carnage, and Giorno doesn't regret it, he doesn't regret a thing. You killed my family. You deserve this.]
Trish and Mista are fine. We all made it through.
Passione is mine now.
[This is different from saying I am don. Even the don can have an incomplete grasp over his own domain. But Passione belongs to him, and nothing happens without him knowing about it, and he is changing things, slowly but surely and irreversibly.]
[His expression doesn't change at all from its carefully blank facade, but what he says next comes out without his permission.]
I missed you.