[When Giorno rises from his seat, Bruno doesn't watch him get up or move around the table. Instead, he looks at the spot where Giorno was seated for just a second longer before turning his attention back out the window. Giorno might as well have not said anything and simply left his seat. It would have had about the same reaction.]
[The hand at his shoulder surprises him. He knows what Giorno is doing by creating this temporary space. The touch fits in with his intentions, but not his methods. Before it's gone, Bruno's hand lifts from his arm to wrap his fingers around Giorno's. It's only a light squeeze before they fall away again to rest back where they were before. A silent word of thanks, but also you don't need to worry about me. He knows the second part will likely go ignored and there's very little he can do to control that. But he makes a point of it all the same.]
[He lets Giorno go without saying a word, rubbing a finger on his sleeve in trying to keep hold of the warmth of Giorno's hand on his own for a little while longer. He listens for a few moments to the conversation Giorno is having with the girl behind the counter. Giorno really was the only one of the younger boys that knew how to talk to girls. It's not surprising to hear the girl's voice raise itself just a little higher in pitch, sounding a little more feminine and breathy when she's talking to Giorno. As the conversation goes on though, Bruno starts tuning it out. He's not even all that particularly focused on the world beyond the window either.]
[As he sits there on his own, he shifts his arms to fold them loosely across his middle. His pulse is slowing again. The air he draws in is warmer when it leaves him again. Until Giorno comes back and sets the cappuccino in front of him, he's content with focusing on only this and remaining perfectly still. He reaches with one hand, pulling it closer and picking it up. Bruno wraps both hands around it, the heat making his skin feel tight and pinched. It only makes him hold it tighter though. He hasn't touched many things and he finds with every familiar sensation he can find again, he's starved for more even when it's uncomfortable. He doesn't bother with blowing on it to cool it. He just takes a sip, his eyes closed to focus on the way it burns his lips, the inside of his mouth, and down along his throat. He's quiet for a few more moments, letting the silence settle comfortably between them.]
How are Mista and Trish? [Giorno said they're fine but that can mean any number of things. He wants to know more of them, of Giorno, of their lives that he will never otherwise know. He hesitates before asking,] Have you heard anything from Fugo?
no subject
[The hand at his shoulder surprises him. He knows what Giorno is doing by creating this temporary space. The touch fits in with his intentions, but not his methods. Before it's gone, Bruno's hand lifts from his arm to wrap his fingers around Giorno's. It's only a light squeeze before they fall away again to rest back where they were before. A silent word of thanks, but also you don't need to worry about me. He knows the second part will likely go ignored and there's very little he can do to control that. But he makes a point of it all the same.]
[He lets Giorno go without saying a word, rubbing a finger on his sleeve in trying to keep hold of the warmth of Giorno's hand on his own for a little while longer. He listens for a few moments to the conversation Giorno is having with the girl behind the counter. Giorno really was the only one of the younger boys that knew how to talk to girls. It's not surprising to hear the girl's voice raise itself just a little higher in pitch, sounding a little more feminine and breathy when she's talking to Giorno. As the conversation goes on though, Bruno starts tuning it out. He's not even all that particularly focused on the world beyond the window either.]
[As he sits there on his own, he shifts his arms to fold them loosely across his middle. His pulse is slowing again. The air he draws in is warmer when it leaves him again. Until Giorno comes back and sets the cappuccino in front of him, he's content with focusing on only this and remaining perfectly still. He reaches with one hand, pulling it closer and picking it up. Bruno wraps both hands around it, the heat making his skin feel tight and pinched. It only makes him hold it tighter though. He hasn't touched many things and he finds with every familiar sensation he can find again, he's starved for more even when it's uncomfortable. He doesn't bother with blowing on it to cool it. He just takes a sip, his eyes closed to focus on the way it burns his lips, the inside of his mouth, and down along his throat. He's quiet for a few more moments, letting the silence settle comfortably between them.]
How are Mista and Trish? [Giorno said they're fine but that can mean any number of things. He wants to know more of them, of Giorno, of their lives that he will never otherwise know. He hesitates before asking,] Have you heard anything from Fugo?