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[Bruno shakes his head a little and there's another short, emphatic touch to Polnareff's knee again.]
No, no. I want to know what you try to learn first.
[With significantly less wine, it's not very likely that Bruno would have said that — because he can guess, even like this, and he knows that Polnareff's right — but wine has been had and Polnareff seems so excited. It seems almost a surprise that he's not just rambling in whole sentences in French without thinking. So, whatever Bruno can do to keep that enthusiasm up, he's going to do it. Even if it means learning French phrases that he will never use.]
No, no. I want to know what you try to learn first.
[With significantly less wine, it's not very likely that Bruno would have said that — because he can guess, even like this, and he knows that Polnareff's right — but wine has been had and Polnareff seems so excited. It seems almost a surprise that he's not just rambling in whole sentences in French without thinking. So, whatever Bruno can do to keep that enthusiasm up, he's going to do it. Even if it means learning French phrases that he will never use.]
[He gives him a little look, like: all right. He'd warned him; what happens next is entirely on him. Slowly, enunciated clearly:]
On va chez toi ou chez moi?
[No translation, not yet-- but it's really not all that bad. It could be so much worse.]
On va chez toi ou chez moi?
[No translation, not yet-- but it's really not all that bad. It could be so much worse.]
Edited (jfc) 2016-07-09 06:41 (UTC)
[There's a vague enough similarity that he can tell there is something involving a "you" and "me" of some kind. Sadly, this doesn't tell Bruno much about what it means since knowing Polnareff, there's a wide variety of potential things he's saying. He stalls for a brief moment, taking another sip of wine, waiting for maybe a translation. But even when it doesn't come Bruno dutifully repeats the words back anyway because who knows? Maybe it will make Polnareff grin again.]
On va chez toi ou chez moi?
On va chez toi ou chez moi?
[It's a little less funny and a little more . . . something, hearing that from Bruno. Polnareff's smile doesn't falter, but it's not quite the same kick he'd thought he'd get out of it.]
Perfect.
[It was, actually, and pronounced with very little accent at all, so well done Bruno. It's the most French he's heard spoken aloud in ages, too, and isn't he aware of that.]
Now you know how to ask somebody if you wanna go back to your room or theirs. Uh--
[All right. He has a few other things he likes to learn-- and does know, actually, in Japanese and English and Greek, but he won't subject them to Bruno entirely without permission.]
Romantic or sexy? You get your pick.
Perfect.
[It was, actually, and pronounced with very little accent at all, so well done Bruno. It's the most French he's heard spoken aloud in ages, too, and isn't he aware of that.]
Now you know how to ask somebody if you wanna go back to your room or theirs. Uh--
[All right. He has a few other things he likes to learn-- and does know, actually, in Japanese and English and Greek, but he won't subject them to Bruno entirely without permission.]
Romantic or sexy? You get your pick.
[Bruno's had enough wine that he can't help it. He snorts at the translation, hiding his quiet laughter behind his hand because he really should have guessed it was as much. Still, he collects himself enough to answer Polnareff's question, lowering his hand down onto the bed and leaning back onto it a little with his head tipping to one side again.]
What do you consider sexy?
What do you consider sexy?
[At least he earned that laugh again-- at his own expense, really, but that was kind of the point. Polnareff grins, pleased to hear it-- but oh, that question, and he drains his glass as he tries to think of a good one. He knows crude phrases, silly ones and sexy ones both, but there's only so filthy he can talk with Bruno-- he doesn't know him so great, you can't tell somebody how to say I'd like to blow you when you barely know them.
(And this isn't any different, he tells himself, than he and Jotaro going back and forth. It's just like how they do late at night, trading dirty phrases and come-ons, it's precisely the same, he can say shit in Japanese and Italian and English, so why not teach Bruno the same in French?)]
Well, there's always just going simple and direct: J'ai envie de toi.
(And this isn't any different, he tells himself, than he and Jotaro going back and forth. It's just like how they do late at night, trading dirty phrases and come-ons, it's precisely the same, he can say shit in Japanese and Italian and English, so why not teach Bruno the same in French?)]
Well, there's always just going simple and direct: J'ai envie de toi.
[Bruno tries again to come up with the equivalent in Italian as he has the last of his wine, though he makes no motion this time to refill his glass. One and a half is enough for him. But oh, right. French. Well, Bruno's got nothing for what it means, but just as before, he repeats it anyway.]
J'ai envie de toi. [Bruno hums thoughtfully.] I like the way that one sounds.
J'ai envie de toi. [Bruno hums thoughtfully.] I like the way that one sounds.
[It certainly sounds good in Bruno's quiet voice.]
It's a good one. I want you, that's about the translation-- just as direct, too, and if you can say it right, all low and smooth . . . [He grins.] Works like a charm.
It's a good one. I want you, that's about the translation-- just as direct, too, and if you can say it right, all low and smooth . . . [He grins.] Works like a charm.
Does it? [Bruno sits back up.] I'll have to be sure to keep that one in mind then. Though ti voglio is easier to remember.
[He waves a hand a little.]
Fewer words.
[And also his native language, but he's had enough to drink so that doesn't particularly leap to his mind as a good reason for why that is.]
Ti voglio... J'ai envie de toi... [Bruno murmurs to himself before,] Mm... It does sound better in French.
[He levels a finger at Polnareff.]
Though if you breathe a word to anybody that I said that, they'll never find you.
[A comment like that from Bruno could potentially be terrifying because it's not as though it's a secret that Bruno could make it happen. But he's smiling far too much for it to be serious. At least too serious. He does still have his pride as an Italian to protect here.]
[He waves a hand a little.]
Fewer words.
[And also his native language, but he's had enough to drink so that doesn't particularly leap to his mind as a good reason for why that is.]
Ti voglio... J'ai envie de toi... [Bruno murmurs to himself before,] Mm... It does sound better in French.
[He levels a finger at Polnareff.]
Though if you breathe a word to anybody that I said that, they'll never find you.
[A comment like that from Bruno could potentially be terrifying because it's not as though it's a secret that Bruno could make it happen. But he's smiling far too much for it to be serious. At least too serious. He does still have his pride as an Italian to protect here.]
[Would he have earned that teasing a month ago? He doubts it. He doubts he'd have even gotten to see such a smile, because Bruno isn't the type to simply give them out like that. You have to earn them, and so it's all the more thrilling each time Polnareff manages to get one.
He abandons his empty wine glass on the bed in favor of pressing a hand to his chest, innocent as anything.]
French is the language of love, mon ami-- no one would blame you for preferring it. But! Your secret is safe with me.
[A few seconds-- and then, okay, he has to finish the lesson, so:]
Right. So now you've gotten them back to your place, you've told them what you want-- so, afterwards, you say: C'etait formidable-- a la meme heure demain?
He abandons his empty wine glass on the bed in favor of pressing a hand to his chest, innocent as anything.]
French is the language of love, mon ami-- no one would blame you for preferring it. But! Your secret is safe with me.
[A few seconds-- and then, okay, he has to finish the lesson, so:]
Right. So now you've gotten them back to your place, you've told them what you want-- so, afterwards, you say: C'etait formidable-- a la meme heure demain?
[Bruno gives Polnareff a teasingly suspicious look at the promise to keep the secret, but he says nothing to the contrary, focusing instead on this little lesson. This one is one Bruno can guess at the meaning better than with the others, provided he's right and "tomorrow" occupies the end of that sentence. Bruno's smile grows a little momentarily.]
C'etait formidable — a la meme heure demain?
C'etait formidable — a la meme heure demain?
Perfect.
[It is, actually-- yeah, some of the pronunciation is a little off, there's that Italian accent coloring everything, but Bruno had echoed the words quite well. And no matter the accent, the words are French, and god, but he's missed hearing that.]
You're a nice guy, so of course you gotta tell her that it was amazing-- and then you asked if she wanted to do it at the same time tomorrow?
[And his stupid mouth keeps running, as it always does, so he cheerfully adds:]
So there you go-- you wanna pick somebody up in French, now you've got pretty much all you need.
[It is, actually-- yeah, some of the pronunciation is a little off, there's that Italian accent coloring everything, but Bruno had echoed the words quite well. And no matter the accent, the words are French, and god, but he's missed hearing that.]
You're a nice guy, so of course you gotta tell her that it was amazing-- and then you asked if she wanted to do it at the same time tomorrow?
[And his stupid mouth keeps running, as it always does, so he cheerfully adds:]
So there you go-- you wanna pick somebody up in French, now you've got pretty much all you need.
Edited (wait i had more to say ) 2016-07-10 19:57 (UTC)
And you're not even doing that good a job of it-- you're the one in my room, you know.
[But quickly, he adds:]
Besides, who knows what's happen tomorrow? Maybe whoever runs this place'll bring some pretty French girl-- and then you'll be able to impress her in two languages.
[But quickly, he adds:]
Besides, who knows what's happen tomorrow? Maybe whoever runs this place'll bring some pretty French girl-- and then you'll be able to impress her in two languages.
[They're sitting awfully close.
He realizes that at a distance, as if he's looking out at himself from a vantage. They're sitting very close, legs pressed together. He usually sits close to people, but not like this, not unless he's good friends with them -- but here they are, sitting together, and god, he thinks, but they're close enough that he could lean in without any real effort and--
Things don't get better when Bruno leans back-- no, if anything, that makes things worse, because leaning back like that, Polnareff can really take in Bruno. Skinny, he'd teased earlier, but that's not quite the right word for what he is. Slender, maybe, or lean-- because he's smaller than Polnareff, yeah, but it's not as if he doesn't have muscles there. There's a gracefulness to both his demeanor and figure, something softer but no less powerful than Polnareff's own physique. You'd think he'd have noticed it before, working on that stupid boat, but somehow it's only hitting him just now.
He notices all that very distantly, taking in each reaction without much thought beyond it, and absolutely does not think about why Bruno's words have triggered such thoughts. It's a conscious effort, a very firm not right now to whatever conclusions his brain wants to come to. Not right now, I can't deal with this, later, I'll think about it later.]
He realizes that at a distance, as if he's looking out at himself from a vantage. They're sitting very close, legs pressed together. He usually sits close to people, but not like this, not unless he's good friends with them -- but here they are, sitting together, and god, he thinks, but they're close enough that he could lean in without any real effort and--
Things don't get better when Bruno leans back-- no, if anything, that makes things worse, because leaning back like that, Polnareff can really take in Bruno. Skinny, he'd teased earlier, but that's not quite the right word for what he is. Slender, maybe, or lean-- because he's smaller than Polnareff, yeah, but it's not as if he doesn't have muscles there. There's a gracefulness to both his demeanor and figure, something softer but no less powerful than Polnareff's own physique. You'd think he'd have noticed it before, working on that stupid boat, but somehow it's only hitting him just now.
He notices all that very distantly, taking in each reaction without much thought beyond it, and absolutely does not think about why Bruno's words have triggered such thoughts. It's a conscious effort, a very firm not right now to whatever conclusions his brain wants to come to. Not right now, I can't deal with this, later, I'll think about it later.]
[He doesn't, fortunately, show most of this on his face. There's a flicker of expression, a jump of something-- and then it's back to smirking, confident and a little superior, because if there's one thing Polnareff knows how to do, it's act like he's the best.]
You're gonna have to step up your game. Think you're ready for that?
You're gonna have to step up your game. Think you're ready for that?
[Bruno notices the flicker of an expression, but doesn't attribute much to it. If he was sober — well, if he was sober, he probably wouldn't have made the comment in the first place, but he might have had his attention held a little longer by that brief shift in his expression. As it is, he just shakes his head a little at the challenge.]
For all you know, I've been holding back, Polnareff. [Bruno raises an eyebrow with a small, amused hum.] Forse non ho voglia di sopraffare.
For all you know, I've been holding back, Polnareff. [Bruno raises an eyebrow with a small, amused hum.] Forse non ho voglia di sopraffare.
Is that supposed to be a come-on? They don't work unless I understand them, you know-- Italian's sexy, but it's not that sexy.
[So scathing-- and it's like nothing's wrong, because nothing is wrong, because he's not thinking about it. So.]
[So scathing-- and it's like nothing's wrong, because nothing is wrong, because he's not thinking about it. So.]
Edited (dear god) 2016-07-11 06:50 (UTC)
[He laughs softly, as he sits up and then leans in a little closer as he picks up Polnareff's discarded, empty wine glass.]
Io dirò mai. [Transferring the glass to his other hand with his own empty glass, Bruno shifts to put both feet back on the floor. He sighs and sounds tired, but content.] It's starting to get late. I should head back to my room.
[Or more accurately, he's probably going to want to lie down before much longer and he'll end up sleeping in here instead. Bruno pats Polnareff's knee again, but this time his hand stays for a little while longer as he looks at Polnareff.]
Grazie amico mio. For tonight.
Io dirò mai. [Transferring the glass to his other hand with his own empty glass, Bruno shifts to put both feet back on the floor. He sighs and sounds tired, but content.] It's starting to get late. I should head back to my room.
[Or more accurately, he's probably going to want to lie down before much longer and he'll end up sleeping in here instead. Bruno pats Polnareff's knee again, but this time his hand stays for a little while longer as he looks at Polnareff.]
Grazie amico mio. For tonight.
[Carlos dutifully copies the information, mouthing each letter as he writes the name down, as to not make a mistake. He's still admiring his correct spelling when Bruno asks about the death date, and his hand stalls in the middle of the word "September". While he doesn't visibly react, the pattern of his shirt shifts, as if startled by something.]
...Yeah, that'd be good, I guess.
[And then, out of force of habit of having to apologize for any slight inconvenience:]
Sorry.
...Yeah, that'd be good, I guess.
[And then, out of force of habit of having to apologize for any slight inconvenience:]
Sorry.
Yeah.
[He offers a slight smile. Bruno's hand on his knee is warm, he notices in that same distant way. It's a nice weight.]
My pleasure. I'll, uh-- if you actually want to learn French, I'll draw you up some stuff-- basic words, stuff like that.
[He offers a slight smile. Bruno's hand on his knee is warm, he notices in that same distant way. It's a nice weight.]
My pleasure. I'll, uh-- if you actually want to learn French, I'll draw you up some stuff-- basic words, stuff like that.
[People always have varying degrees of reaction to the mention of Bruno's death and Bruno's learned to accept them in whatever form they take. But his shirt changing its pattern a little is certainly a new one, so that Bruno hesitates a moment before speaking again.]
No need to apologize, [he says with a small shake of his head. Because there truly isn't when he's long since made his peace with it.] I died on April 2nd, 2001 the first time. Gold Experience gave my body enough life to last four more days beyond that, so I died again on April 6th, 2001.
[Which is both true and somewhat an over-simplification of how he died the second time. But he asked for dates, not the specifics of his deaths, so.]
No need to apologize, [he says with a small shake of his head. Because there truly isn't when he's long since made his peace with it.] I died on April 2nd, 2001 the first time. Gold Experience gave my body enough life to last four more days beyond that, so I died again on April 6th, 2001.
[Which is both true and somewhat an over-simplification of how he died the second time. But he asked for dates, not the specifics of his deaths, so.]
[Bruno was in Polnareff's room.]
[It actually took him a while to notice. It's not as though it's awfully late, Bruno is usually conscientious about going to bed on time, but — Bruno's voice, which Giorno is always so conscious of, is coming from the wrong direction, through the wrong wall, not from the hallway or his own room. From Polnareff's room.]
[From Polnareff's room. And he's laughing.]
[Giorno does a casual walk down the hall to see Jolie, then back. He doesn't pause at the door on either pass, because even without pausing he can hear what's going on: Polnareff saying something in French, Bruno mimicking it with a loose, lazy flow.]
[Bruno has been drinking. With Polnareff. And speaking French with Polnareff, and laughing with Polnareff, and . . . well. Giorno isn't entirely sure what to make of that tone. He's never heard it before. But he's also never heard Polnareff quite so quiet, and he doesn't know what that means either.]
[So maybe he's waiting outside Bruno's room, leaned against the doorjam and fiddling with the end of his braid while he flips through his watch. Maybe. Could be. Totally casual.]
[It actually took him a while to notice. It's not as though it's awfully late, Bruno is usually conscientious about going to bed on time, but — Bruno's voice, which Giorno is always so conscious of, is coming from the wrong direction, through the wrong wall, not from the hallway or his own room. From Polnareff's room.]
[From Polnareff's room. And he's laughing.]
[Giorno does a casual walk down the hall to see Jolie, then back. He doesn't pause at the door on either pass, because even without pausing he can hear what's going on: Polnareff saying something in French, Bruno mimicking it with a loose, lazy flow.]
[Bruno has been drinking. With Polnareff. And speaking French with Polnareff, and laughing with Polnareff, and . . . well. Giorno isn't entirely sure what to make of that tone. He's never heard it before. But he's also never heard Polnareff quite so quiet, and he doesn't know what that means either.]
[So maybe he's waiting outside Bruno's room, leaned against the doorjam and fiddling with the end of his braid while he flips through his watch. Maybe. Could be. Totally casual.]
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