[He huffs a little laugh, his gaze as proud as any parent's, and tears his gaze away from Chariot long enough to flash Bruno a grin. He's terribly pleased, both by Chariot's performance and Bruno's admiration. Incredible, and it's a good thing Chariot's so busy with his felled tree, because he'd be preening under the admiration otherwise.]
Sticky Fingers is the first I've seen keep up.
[That's not strictly true-- Star is built for speed, and Polnareff hasn't forgotten the Anubis fight, where Star's fists repelled nearly all his thrusts-- but he wants to return the sentiment. Besides, Sticky Fingers is quick-- Polnareff sneaks a glance back over at the Stand, watching as he moves.]
I thought it'd be an easy win.
Sticky Fingers is the first I've seen keep up.
[That's not strictly true-- Star is built for speed, and Polnareff hasn't forgotten the Anubis fight, where Star's fists repelled nearly all his thrusts-- but he wants to return the sentiment. Besides, Sticky Fingers is quick-- Polnareff sneaks a glance back over at the Stand, watching as he moves.]
I thought it'd be an easy win.
If I say "one of these days we'll have to spar", does that mean you'll use Sticky Fingers on me?
[Because while he loves fighting, he'll forgo a match in favor of keeping himself together.]
[Because while he loves fighting, he'll forgo a match in favor of keeping himself together.]
[No, he probably wouldn't. Still:]
Well, fuck that,, then. I wanted to spar with them, I'd've asked them.
[Meaning: the point is to spend time with Bruno, not necessarily to fight. Still! He appreciates the honesty, and so adds:]
Creative like how?
[Asked as he heads toward Chariot. Grabbing the sheets of wood already trimmed, he begins stacking them, organizing each into easily carried piles. Maybe they'll just store them in the backyard; that seems as good a place as any.]
Well, fuck that,, then. I wanted to spar with them, I'd've asked them.
[Meaning: the point is to spend time with Bruno, not necessarily to fight. Still! He appreciates the honesty, and so adds:]
Creative like how?
[Asked as he heads toward Chariot. Grabbing the sheets of wood already trimmed, he begins stacking them, organizing each into easily carried piles. Maybe they'll just store them in the backyard; that seems as good a place as any.]
[Well, he had asked. And while it's initially somewhat disturbing to hear himself so neatly analyzed, it's not as if he hasn't gone through the same thought process with Bruno. He suspects they all of them do it, he and Jotaro and Giorno and Kakyoin-- it's reflex, at this point. They've faced too many enemies-- hell, they've fought one another often enough-- not to.
So Polnareff's expression is thoughtful as he hears all that. It's an intriguing Stand, no doubt about it, and he glances up at Sticky Fingers.]
Huh. Is there any limit to how long one bit of somebody can be detached, or's there a time limit?
So Polnareff's expression is thoughtful as he hears all that. It's an intriguing Stand, no doubt about it, and he glances up at Sticky Fingers.]
Huh. Is there any limit to how long one bit of somebody can be detached, or's there a time limit?
[He whistles softly.]
That's a hell of an ability for someone in your position to have.
[He can well imagine, even outside of a fight, how useful that might be. Bruno had teased about knowing how to get information out of him, but suddenly Polnareff wonders how much of a joke that really was.]
Hey. Can you zip a space for us to carry all this back home?
[Hopefully not in him.]
That's a hell of an ability for someone in your position to have.
[He can well imagine, even outside of a fight, how useful that might be. Bruno had teased about knowing how to get information out of him, but suddenly Polnareff wonders how much of a joke that really was.]
Hey. Can you zip a space for us to carry all this back home?
[Hopefully not in him.]
[. . . oh. Oh. He actually pulls a face, because he really doesn't like that thought, but at the same time, he doesn't want to lug it all back in multiple trips . . .]
What-- what exactly happens if it goes in me? Do I feel it?
What-- what exactly happens if it goes in me? Do I feel it?
[Laziness versus a healthy fear of having several stacks of boards shoved into him. No, it's a hard debate, no doubt-- but the house is a bit too far, and he really doesn't want to get all gross and sweaty carrying shit back and forth, so--]
I trust you.
[Odd, really, how easily and honestly he says that, given how much he'd hesitated before. But it's the truth, and he doesn't linger on it.]
Just don't-- just make it quick, yeah?
I trust you.
[Odd, really, how easily and honestly he says that, given how much he'd hesitated before. But it's the truth, and he doesn't linger on it.]
Just don't-- just make it quick, yeah?
Mm.
[He hums softly, not quite committing one way or another. For now, he simply watches Sticky Fingers, half in dread and half in interest. Polnareff shifts his weight, fingers curling aimlessly at his sides.]
Where? I mean-- just in my torso, is that-- is that how it works?
[He hums softly, not quite committing one way or another. For now, he simply watches Sticky Fingers, half in dread and half in interest. Polnareff shifts his weight, fingers curling aimlessly at his sides.]
Where? I mean-- just in my torso, is that-- is that how it works?
[All right. That's-- okay. He has to just stop thinking about it, right? Don't think about the fact that several lengths of wood are about to go in your chest, near your heart and lungs, near a lot of vital organs that you absolutely need. Think of it as . . . as a pocket. A chest-pocket. Except it's not in fabric, it's in your skin, and it's in your skin, and eurgh--
But he doesn't say anything. He could, and he thinks he knows Bruno well enough to say he wouldn't be mocked for balking-- but there's a stubborn part of him that wants to see this through. There are reasons for that, beyond sheer stubbornness, but that's for later examination.]
All right.
[He cocks his head, arms at his side.]
Go on.
But he doesn't say anything. He could, and he thinks he knows Bruno well enough to say he wouldn't be mocked for balking-- but there's a stubborn part of him that wants to see this through. There are reasons for that, beyond sheer stubbornness, but that's for later examination.]
All right.
[He cocks his head, arms at his side.]
Go on.
Yep! Yeah, I'm-- yep. Totally.
[He just doesn't look down into it. That would be a mistake. Because whatever he sees-- if it's blackness or his guts or what-- he's not gonna like. So best to just keep staring at Bruno, analyzing him really hard, than to think there's a hollow space within his chest. If he thinks about it-- and he's not, focusing all his attention and energy on memorizing the kind of barrettes Bruno uses in his hair-- he can feel things shifting along his chest, skin and muscle, painless but most definitely there.
It helps, actually, that it was Bruno and not Sticky Fingers who did it. He's not stupid, he knows who it really was-- but it was a far sight easier to have Bruno's fingers pressing against him than Sticky Fingers.
God, the things he'll do for laziness. Actually-- and he finally exhales-- now that nothing is happening, it isn't so bad. He's still definitely not looking down, but-- just standing here, with that in him, isn't the worst thing in the world. It's better than it had been when they were stuck together.
He jerks his head, a go on kind of gesture.]
[He just doesn't look down into it. That would be a mistake. Because whatever he sees-- if it's blackness or his guts or what-- he's not gonna like. So best to just keep staring at Bruno, analyzing him really hard, than to think there's a hollow space within his chest. If he thinks about it-- and he's not, focusing all his attention and energy on memorizing the kind of barrettes Bruno uses in his hair-- he can feel things shifting along his chest, skin and muscle, painless but most definitely there.
It helps, actually, that it was Bruno and not Sticky Fingers who did it. He's not stupid, he knows who it really was-- but it was a far sight easier to have Bruno's fingers pressing against him than Sticky Fingers.
God, the things he'll do for laziness. Actually-- and he finally exhales-- now that nothing is happening, it isn't so bad. He's still definitely not looking down, but-- just standing here, with that in him, isn't the worst thing in the world. It's better than it had been when they were stuck together.
He jerks his head, a go on kind of gesture.]
[He brushes his fingers against his chest, but there's nothing there. His breathing is normal, his heartbeat is steady, and there's no sudden heaviness in his chest. Everything appears normal, and Polnareff isn't certain if he likes that better or worse than some kind of indication he was carrying several boards within him.]
Not even a scar, huh . . .
[Not that he really expected one. There hadn't been one the first time, after all. Polnareff finally glances down, peering at himself for a few seconds before giving Bruno a smile. It's a genuine one, despite his nervousness-- because hey, this isn't so bad!]
Least if we ever get a movie theater around here, you and I have a way to sneak in snacks.
Not even a scar, huh . . .
[Not that he really expected one. There hadn't been one the first time, after all. Polnareff finally glances down, peering at himself for a few seconds before giving Bruno a smile. It's a genuine one, despite his nervousness-- because hey, this isn't so bad!]
Least if we ever get a movie theater around here, you and I have a way to sneak in snacks.
I mean, let's not make a habit of it.
[He settles in next to Bruno, hands back in his pockets, pleased to have earned that laugh again.]
But no, not so bad. I dunno, I expected I'd feel it more-- like a weight or something, you know? I mean, it's a lot of wood. So--
[And he ducks his head, meeting his eyes.]
Do you start on the bottom or the sides, building this? I mean, after you get all the wood cleaned up and all that.
[He settles in next to Bruno, hands back in his pockets, pleased to have earned that laugh again.]
But no, not so bad. I dunno, I expected I'd feel it more-- like a weight or something, you know? I mean, it's a lot of wood. So--
[And he ducks his head, meeting his eyes.]
Do you start on the bottom or the sides, building this? I mean, after you get all the wood cleaned up and all that.
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