[Giorno could answer that, if he wanted to. If it were appropriate. He could say that it wasn't fate - that fate doesn't exist - but that there are very few people willing to take on burdens like Jotaro's, or capable of seeing them through to the end.]
[This would not be a comforting thing to say. It wouldn't change anything, and it wouldn't help. And besides, in what way is it up to Dio's son to provide cold comfort to Dio's murderer? It's just as perverse as willful destruction of life, from all sides and perspectives, and so Giorno doesn't.]
[He watches, instead, observes intently as he always does before making a move. He notes the way Jotaro clamps his fingers into a tight fist, the anger there, but the caution, too. He notes every pause, every careful breath. He notes that Jotaro is going out of his way not to alarm him, as though he owes Giorno anything.]
[It might make more sense to someone else. But Giorno is used to having to earn respect, kindness, even the barest human decency. So it seems strange, unnatural even, and he finds himself wanting to respond in kind even more than he would normally. He isn't concerned about Jotaro frightening him; he doesn't think he could, no matter how angry or violent he got. He doesn't believe that he needs protecting. But - perhaps Jotaro does.]
I do want to. But . . .
[He glances sideways, letting his gaze rest for a moment on Star Platinum, who must have dealt the final blow; he lets his eyes rest on those fists, and he smiles again, soft and bittersweet. Part of him wants to say thank you. Part of him . . . he doesn't know.]
I don't want to hurt you. [This is the plainest way to put it, he thinks, as he looks back at Jotaro.] These are bad memories. They can't be pleasant to relive. Looking at me, maybe that hurts, too. I did have the picture, I know there are - similarities.
So if you want to talk about something else, we can. If you want to talk about nothing, we can. If you want me to leave, I will, without hesitation.
no subject
[This would not be a comforting thing to say. It wouldn't change anything, and it wouldn't help. And besides, in what way is it up to Dio's son to provide cold comfort to Dio's murderer? It's just as perverse as willful destruction of life, from all sides and perspectives, and so Giorno doesn't.]
[He watches, instead, observes intently as he always does before making a move. He notes the way Jotaro clamps his fingers into a tight fist, the anger there, but the caution, too. He notes every pause, every careful breath. He notes that Jotaro is going out of his way not to alarm him, as though he owes Giorno anything.]
[It might make more sense to someone else. But Giorno is used to having to earn respect, kindness, even the barest human decency. So it seems strange, unnatural even, and he finds himself wanting to respond in kind even more than he would normally. He isn't concerned about Jotaro frightening him; he doesn't think he could, no matter how angry or violent he got. He doesn't believe that he needs protecting. But - perhaps Jotaro does.]
I do want to. But . . .
[He glances sideways, letting his gaze rest for a moment on Star Platinum, who must have dealt the final blow; he lets his eyes rest on those fists, and he smiles again, soft and bittersweet. Part of him wants to say thank you. Part of him . . . he doesn't know.]
I don't want to hurt you. [This is the plainest way to put it, he thinks, as he looks back at Jotaro.] These are bad memories. They can't be pleasant to relive. Looking at me, maybe that hurts, too. I did have the picture, I know there are - similarities.
So if you want to talk about something else, we can. If you want to talk about nothing, we can. If you want me to leave, I will, without hesitation.