[Abbacchio doesn't look up until Bruno touches his arm, and even then he looks up slowly, just listening. He doesn't move any more than that -- even if he wanted to, all of him feels heavy with the litany of reasons he does not deserve the trust and acceptance Bruno gives to him at all. He can't lift his other hand to touch Bruno's for the weight of it, although the weight on his arm is an entirely different kind that makes him want more than anything to move--
He stands there. He listens. It's strange but half of Bruno's words sound like they must be for someone else, so even though the words are a kind of appraisal, there's a lapse in time before they really sink in, a split-second to think.
Before arriving in this city someone whose forgiveness he can never convince himself he deserves told him he'd done well, that he'd managed to do the right thing finally. The fever dream of a dying man or no (honestly, he can believe only so many things), that's hung over him for weeks now as he wonders if it's true. He still doesn't know. But Bruno, Bruno is here and real, and even if Abbacchio doesn't think he'll ever deserve him either, he's going to try. To believe it or to be someone who doesn't have to convince himself, he's not sure yet--but something else has changed and he's only just realizing it now.
He can move, and lifts his hand to bump the back of it and his knuckles into Bruno's arm. (Honestly he's doing all he can manage in a single day, alright.) He takes a deep breath and breathes it out shortly, the barest suggestion of a laugh.]
You sure? I'm kind of an asshole.
[But he doesn't move his hand away. Bruno is so far ahead of him, but if Abbacchio can touch him like this then he must have done something worth doing to get here. Whatever that is. This.
Each of his promises to Bruno thus far has been focused on following him anywhere. If he's going to try, he can start there. What had Izabel said to him when they met? Something she meant about Giorno, but about someone who can forgive all of your bullshit-- Start there.]
... Buccellati, [but not there, no, apparently not] I'm with you. In this place, or wherever-- it's not "maybe," it's always.
evening action; 10/27
He stands there. He listens. It's strange but half of Bruno's words sound like they must be for someone else, so even though the words are a kind of appraisal, there's a lapse in time before they really sink in, a split-second to think.
Before arriving in this city someone whose forgiveness he can never convince himself he deserves told him he'd done well, that he'd managed to do the right thing finally. The fever dream of a dying man or no (honestly, he can believe only so many things), that's hung over him for weeks now as he wonders if it's true. He still doesn't know. But Bruno, Bruno is here and real, and even if Abbacchio doesn't think he'll ever deserve him either, he's going to try. To believe it or to be someone who doesn't have to convince himself, he's not sure yet--but something else has changed and he's only just realizing it now.
He can move, and lifts his hand to bump the back of it and his knuckles into Bruno's arm. (Honestly he's doing all he can manage in a single day, alright.) He takes a deep breath and breathes it out shortly, the barest suggestion of a laugh.]
You sure? I'm kind of an asshole.
[But he doesn't move his hand away. Bruno is so far ahead of him, but if Abbacchio can touch him like this then he must have done something worth doing to get here. Whatever that is. This.
Each of his promises to Bruno thus far has been focused on following him anywhere. If he's going to try, he can start there. What had Izabel said to him when they met? Something she meant about Giorno, but about someone who can forgive all of your bullshit-- Start there.]
... Buccellati, [but not there, no, apparently not] I'm with you. In this place, or wherever-- it's not "maybe," it's always.