“Whether I could or not doesn’t really matter if I don’t have the intention to do it in the first place.”
She leans back in her chair, arms folded over her chest as she arches a brow at the other.
“No, I’m here to ask a favor.”
———HE LIFTED A BROW BUT SAID NOTHING. fingers pausing over their initial ministrations, the man tapped his finger once on the grain and then placed his palm face down.
“Rude…. But understandable. I’m not here to kill you though, if that’s what you think.”
———HE SCOFFED AT THE ASSURANCE. the assassin’s words came with a tone that brought a smile to his face. fingers unfolded, he traced over the grain of the wooden table.
It’s a quiet night. A peaceful one. One that’s a welcome break from the horrible buzzing around of… well. Business as usual, it seemed. It’s tiring. So, so fucking tiring. Giorno Giovanna stands on his balcony with a drink in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other, staring out into the starry expanse of the dark sky above. A soft sigh accompanies smoke as it travels upwards. This was nice.
A door opens, and he glances towards the sound, pupils slits until he realizes just who it is, and his expression softens. A small smile.
“Good evening, Buccellati. Are you doing well?” He asks, gesturing for the other to approach. “I can put out the cigarette, if you’d prefer.”
———❝ SINCE IT SEEMS THAT NO ONE HAS THE AUTHORITY TO SAY IT ANYMORE — smoking will kill you, giorno giovanna. ❞ the man smiled through the cracks in his fingers, pushing a lock of raven hair behind his ear as he gazed on from the balcony. it was a chilly night, the sea picking up a front and bringing it to the exposed portions of his skin. he made little effort to cover up, a certain numbness to his body keeping him from really caring.
he’d been numb for some time now.
turning to the don, the man reached over to press his thumb into the lit end of the cigarette. allow me, he almost seemed to say, the burn of flesh not even slightly bothering him or his autonomic reactions.
❝ just because a drug is legal does not mean it is safe. ❞
No answer came for the longest of moments. A lot of different sharp replies rang in her head, though. Don’t patronize me. What would you know? How do you know what it’s like?
None of them managed to make it down the path from her brain to her tongue. They stayed stagnant, bouncing around until they mixed together in her head to unintelligible noise. “I’m fine,” she finally told him in a voice that left nothing to be questioned. “I picked my own path this time. No matter what happens, I’ll follow it.”
———DESPITE HER QUICK ASSURANCE, the man knew better than to return the stone he lifted when there was something living beneath. like a festering wound, he tried not to pick at the skin. it was a hard day they’d had, most resigning to taking care of themselves before looking after each other. still, trish was young ; she hadn’t asked for this life.
❝ you forget that we all walk this path together. ❞
——— RESPITE AND REPRIEVE WERE NOT A LUXURY THEY HAD ANYMORE. maybe before all of this had started, when they were both younger, leone abbacchio being in the career that he had dreamed of being in since he was a child, and bruno buccellati… well. there were times before this. ones that were less stressful. ones that were more idyllic. now, it’s just saddening to think about. a thought he presses back. a thought he’s broken out of as buccellati taps the table and mentions the taste of the food they were having.
❝ i can have them send it back. bring back food that isn’t shit.
❞
———A SMILE THAT RARELY OVERTAKES HIM, subtle in its curve but entirely fitting for the comment. he wondered for a moment how they’d both been cornered here, the flow of customers in and out of the restaurant beginning to slow in an almost unnoticeable manner. he lowered his fork, beginning to twist the pasta around the teeth until he formed a proper bite. they were in danger.
❝ i’m not picky, but if you could flag down our waiter… ❞
“Open it, Bruno,” Giorno said. Cold and sinister in tone – leveled at a place of respect for Bruno Buccellati; however despite such a little amount of time left on their hands, they were to act quick. The turtle that sat on the table nearby, feasting on a salad next to Giorno, who mirrored the eating manners of the turtle – each CRUNCH! and bite in perfect sync. Coco Jumbo’s bites of his salad–and Giorno’s to his favorite dish: An Octopus Salad.
Giorno chewed it slowly, swallowed with a gentle gulp. “Go on, …” he gestured with his fork, covered in ink. Glittering in the sun, his lady bug covered outfit made this boy into a human disco ball. “We’ll move on with business after we see what’s in that parcel. Use your Sticky Fingers to reveal its contents without ripping the paper– that way it can be sealed as if nobody touched it.”
———HE’D DELIBERATED OVER IT FOR SOME TIME. though it was clear the package had come with ill intent, buccellati lingered on the thought of what they’d put inside. was this some kind of trick? stash a bit of rotten meat inside a box set to explode at the slightest of movements? had that been the case, the delivery would have hardly been so clean. it had to be a mechanism that depended on the opening of such a package; that, or it wasn’t anything but a harmless prank.
❝ on my signal. ❞ the young man’s abilities certainly come in handy when the possibility of an explosion was at their doorsteps. what would ignite if transformed into living matter? in an instant, the man parted the side of the box, zipper allowing a wide enough opening to see the contents within. there, in the center of a magnetized trigger, the festering remains of a dead hare.
She made sure that her silence was noticed as she stared at the man before her. Her mini vacation partially ruined, Yukako’s mood was somewhat soured because of the events going on around her. And here she was, seated in a cafe with some stranger. ❝ No, I can’t say I do… ❞ Short, sweet, and straight to the point. There were a myriad of reasons why he and Yukako could’ve been there, but of those her mind only pointed to one possibility- gravity. The fate that led all Stand users to each other eventually. It was a leap to even assume he was a user in the first place, but with everything happening on this trip she wouldn’t be surprised anymore.
❝ Would you be so kind as to tell me why? I’m a busy woman, you know. ❞
———❝ I ADMIRE A WOMAN WHO CAN ASSERT HER TIME. this won’t be long, i promise you. ❞ he took a slight sip of the frothy cup, setting his cappuccinodown as he settled deeper into his chair. the girl was young, younger than most lone travelers tended to be. still, her italian was impeccable, as if she’d spoken it her entire life. something about that didn’t sit right. he moved a hand into his coat pocket, and paused.
❝ tell me why you think you’re here? maybe not at this table, but rather, in this city. ❞
❛ Buccellati, can you get me a knife? ❜ It would have taken a second to decode what had been asked. And a mere glance at the man who just spoke would certainly be enough to understand why the man’s voice came out so slurred and gruff.
There sat Abbacchio: face supported by a fist against his cheek, sporting bags under violet, narrowed eyes and makeup shy of a bit less meticulously put than usually. On the table in front of him were an empty plate, cheese and a bottle of alcohol… hard to tell which kind, but by the telltale black spot at the top, it was safe to say Leone had been nursing on it for some time.
———HE HADN’T EXACTLY SLEPT WELL. of course, it was not that he hadn’t tried to. the work to be done seemed to only accumulate, preparation and time utilization only a meager solution to a larger problem. he hadn’t slept well at all.
entering the common area, buccellati intended only to sate his sleepless wanderlust. early morning still looked like night. bare feet on cold tile stopped just shy of the doorway, eyes coming upon the other. it had been some time since he’d seen the man in such a state. plucking a dull blade from the rack, he approached from across the table.
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