[Giorno doesn't respond visibly to Bruno's slight reaction. He doesn't say anything, either; just remains placid, self-assured, contained, neither smiling nor frowning, blinking and breathing evenly. Underneath, though . . .]
[Well. It's quite rare for him to get honestly, truly angry. Most of the time, he's able to stay composed even against the worst examples of humanity, to rein in his impulses in order to attain the best possible outcome for himself and those following him. But right now, he's angry. Not at anyone present - certainly not at Bruno - but at Diavolo, for what he did; at Kujo, for bringing it back; at his father, for everything, for existing; at himself and Gold Experience, for not being able to do better.]
[He can't hurt Diavolo any more than he's already hurt him. He won't hurt Kujo, because he doesn't deserve it. He can't hurt his father, and even if he were here, would he be able to? And he won't hurt himself, because he isn't stupid enough to be self-destructive.]
[Which leaves only the option for a different kind of leadership - one that suits him better anyway. His voice is perfectly even when he speaks again, as though they're discussing the weather.]
Yes, that's a good assessment. Kakyoin is . . . clever. Canny. But he's had more time to come to terms with what happened. Kujo is raw. He's the one who almost attacked me. He will do anything to protect a friend, I think.
[I would do anything to protect you. He doesn't say it, not aloud, but lets his gaze linger for a long moment before he stands, resting his fingertips on the table.]
Excuse me for a moment. I have to get another cappuccino, this one's cold.
[Without waiting for permission - because permission isn't Bruno's to give anymore - he picks up his cup and brushes past him to the counter. On the way, for the barest of seconds, he lets his hand rest on Bruno's shoulder, pressure light and quickly let up - but undeniable.]
[He lingers at the counter for longer than necessary, making friendly conversation with the barista, who seems thoroughly charmed by him already. She tells him what her favorite drink is on the menu, and he asks her if it's very sugary, then requests one of those and one cappuccino. He pays and lets her keep talking for a minute or two, then apologizes for his lack of tip and offers that instead, if there are any chores to be done around the shop, he might do them when he isn't otherwise occupied around the city. She accepts, a little astonished, and he smiles and makes his way back towards the window.]
[Setting the cappuccino in front of Bruno, he settles in across the table again and takes a sip of the recommended drink. It is, in fact, too sweet, but there are worse things in the world.]
no subject
[Well. It's quite rare for him to get honestly, truly angry. Most of the time, he's able to stay composed even against the worst examples of humanity, to rein in his impulses in order to attain the best possible outcome for himself and those following him. But right now, he's angry. Not at anyone present - certainly not at Bruno - but at Diavolo, for what he did; at Kujo, for bringing it back; at his father, for everything, for existing; at himself and Gold Experience, for not being able to do better.]
[He can't hurt Diavolo any more than he's already hurt him. He won't hurt Kujo, because he doesn't deserve it. He can't hurt his father, and even if he were here, would he be able to? And he won't hurt himself, because he isn't stupid enough to be self-destructive.]
[Which leaves only the option for a different kind of leadership - one that suits him better anyway. His voice is perfectly even when he speaks again, as though they're discussing the weather.]
Yes, that's a good assessment. Kakyoin is . . . clever. Canny. But he's had more time to come to terms with what happened. Kujo is raw. He's the one who almost attacked me. He will do anything to protect a friend, I think.
[I would do anything to protect you. He doesn't say it, not aloud, but lets his gaze linger for a long moment before he stands, resting his fingertips on the table.]
Excuse me for a moment. I have to get another cappuccino, this one's cold.
[Without waiting for permission - because permission isn't Bruno's to give anymore - he picks up his cup and brushes past him to the counter. On the way, for the barest of seconds, he lets his hand rest on Bruno's shoulder, pressure light and quickly let up - but undeniable.]
[He lingers at the counter for longer than necessary, making friendly conversation with the barista, who seems thoroughly charmed by him already. She tells him what her favorite drink is on the menu, and he asks her if it's very sugary, then requests one of those and one cappuccino. He pays and lets her keep talking for a minute or two, then apologizes for his lack of tip and offers that instead, if there are any chores to be done around the shop, he might do them when he isn't otherwise occupied around the city. She accepts, a little astonished, and he smiles and makes his way back towards the window.]
[Setting the cappuccino in front of Bruno, he settles in across the table again and takes a sip of the recommended drink. It is, in fact, too sweet, but there are worse things in the world.]