[There's something absent in Bruno's voice. It's not as if he's excessively loud in his warmth, but nor is it ever really absent from his voice. At least, not when he talks to Polnareff. There's always an undercurrent of fondness there, just as there is when he talks about Fugo or Giorno. It means friendship. It means I like you.
They've spoken on mornings before. This isn't just tiredness. And yet it's not yet enough for Polnareff to say anything out loud. There's just a worry in his chest, that's all; a breathless moment of uncertainty before he shoves it away.
He grabs his backpack and helps Bruno push the boat over to the shore. A moment of hesitation-- and then he slips onto the boat, feet dangling, watching Bruno a little uncertainly.]
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[There's something absent in Bruno's voice. It's not as if he's excessively loud in his warmth, but nor is it ever really absent from his voice. At least, not when he talks to Polnareff. There's always an undercurrent of fondness there, just as there is when he talks about Fugo or Giorno. It means friendship. It means I like you.
They've spoken on mornings before. This isn't just tiredness. And yet it's not yet enough for Polnareff to say anything out loud. There's just a worry in his chest, that's all; a breathless moment of uncertainty before he shoves it away.
He grabs his backpack and helps Bruno push the boat over to the shore. A moment of hesitation-- and then he slips onto the boat, feet dangling, watching Bruno a little uncertainly.]