The body still needs blood and oxygen to survive, so it's about the same as a limb that's been severed through more traditional means. [So, there's definitely a time limit before whatever's been detached will simply die or be impossible to reattach.] Granted, a head doesn't need to be attached to a neck talk or anything like that. The brain will just eventually shut down and die if it's left unattached for too long.
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?
[. . . 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?
[Bruno's eyebrows raise in surprise. He'd have thought Polnareff would have backed off it immediately regardless of who it'd be suggested carry the wood.]
I don't exactly make it a habit to store things inside people, but you wouldn't feel a difference.
[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.]
[Bruno almost asks him if he's sure, but the Polnareff puts in the request that Bruno make it quick and the question seems utterly moot at that point. So, Bruno has Sticky Fingers begin gathering the stacks of lumber, using zippers to temporarily shorten the length of much of it.]
You can close your eyes. [A pause before he adds.] If that would be more comfortable.
[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?
[Bruno sees the curling of Polnareff's fingers at his side out of the corner of his eye. If the halting way Polnareff is speaking now wasn't already a solid indication of anxiety, that certainly was. Bruno comes close to saying that he doesn't have to do this if he's really that uncomfortable with it. Bruno certainly wouldn't see any fault in it. Everyone went through their own varying degrees of discomfort with the Stand until they got use to him. But a comment like that could be seen as patronizing or insulting, so Bruno doesn't say any of it. He trusts that if this is something Polnareff really doesn't want to do, he'll say so in the end.]
[Bruno folds his arms loosely and once Sticky Fingers has loaded itself with as much as it can carry at once, it drifts over to Bruno.]
[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.]
[Bruno still leaves a wide enough window that Polnareff could turn this around immediately. Sticky Fingers moves across the short distance between Polnareff and Bruno, but makes no motion to create a zipper until Bruno is within reach of Polnareff. Truthfully, Bruno doesn't know whether it will help or make it worse, but he raises his hand and Sticky Finger does the same, the Stand's hand disappears into Bruno's by the time either one of them make contact with Polnareff. He thinks it might help that it seems to be Bruno rather than Sticky Fingers creating the zipper even if it's only in a brief touch. In barely a fraction of a second where Bruno's fingertips touch, a slider appears in Bruno's hand.]
[When it comes to his zippers, Bruno is often quick to pull them open, but not right now. He's a little more careful and delicate in the way he pulls the slider along the chain of teeth, Sticky Fingers taking back its hand from Bruno's along the way. He's even more careful when he pulls the flap he's created back — he didn't mention it, but there is a chance for tearing if he's not careful with that part — as although the zipper itself results in no feeling, but the movement of skin could still very well have a strange sensation like being under a local anesthesia.]
[Sticky Fingers moves closer to start putting the wood in, but stops short as Bruno looks up at Polnareff.]
[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.
[Bruno nods and wordlessly moves a little aside for Sticky Fingers to start loading Polnareff up. He glances at Polnareff thinking that maybe he should make light conversation of some sort to serve as a distraction, but nothing particularly comes to mind to say, so he remains silent. Once Sticky Fingers has unloaded its arms, Bruno moves to press the flap closed for the moment while his Stand gathers up the remaining pieces of wood. It's only once Sticky Fingers is back with the rest of the wood that Bruno steps out of his Stand's way and pulls back the flap. Just as before, Sticky Fingers is quick and efficient in stacking the wood. When the task is complete, Bruno calls Sticky Fingers back, the Stand disappearing as it meets with Bruno.]
[This time, Bruno is a little more expedient with the zipper and seals the hole back up. When he lets go of the slider, both it and the track of teeth disappear as though they never were.]
All done, mio amico.
[At least for now. The boards will obviously have to come out.]
[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.
Bottom. You start by building it upside down and work on the outside first. Then you flip it over, [he says with a small gesture of his hand, turning his palm up and cupping his hand slightly before letting it fall back to his side,] and work on the inside.
[He still has no idea how you get flat boards to curve into a suitable boat-y shape, but he's not really here to do the thinking. There's a way, and Bruno will tell him when the time comes.]
You've got . . . let's call it til the end of this project to come up with a clever name for this ship, by the way. Don't disappoint me.
Well, anything that makes me laugh. I'd say a pun, but since English isn't either of our first languages that's a little unfair. Something that isn't just straightforward, like Destiny or Freedom or The Ship We Made Because Polnareff Was Bored, junk like that.
Mi dispiace. [Bruno holds his hands up in mock surrender.] I don't know though, it's your first boat. Don't you think you should be the one to name it?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
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.]
no subject
Polnareff, of the two of us, who do you think I could fit more into?
[Sorry, buddy. There's no avoiding lugging the wood back otherwise.]
no subject
What-- what exactly happens if it goes in me? Do I feel it?
no subject
I don't exactly make it a habit to store things inside people, but you wouldn't feel a difference.
no subject
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?
no subject
You can close your eyes. [A pause before he adds.] If that would be more comfortable.
no subject
[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?
no subject
[Bruno folds his arms loosely and once Sticky Fingers has loaded itself with as much as it can carry at once, it drifts over to Bruno.]
That's the easiest, yes.
no subject
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.
no subject
[When it comes to his zippers, Bruno is often quick to pull them open, but not right now. He's a little more careful and delicate in the way he pulls the slider along the chain of teeth, Sticky Fingers taking back its hand from Bruno's along the way. He's even more careful when he pulls the flap he's created back — he didn't mention it, but there is a chance for tearing if he's not careful with that part — as although the zipper itself results in no feeling, but the movement of skin could still very well have a strange sensation like being under a local anesthesia.]
[Sticky Fingers moves closer to start putting the wood in, but stops short as Bruno looks up at Polnareff.]
Are you doing alright?
no subject
[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.]
no subject
[This time, Bruno is a little more expedient with the zipper and seals the hole back up. When he lets go of the slider, both it and the track of teeth disappear as though they never were.]
All done, mio amico.
[At least for now. The boards will obviously have to come out.]
no subject
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.
no subject
It's not as bad as you were expecting then?
no subject
[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.
no subject
no subject
[He still has no idea how you get flat boards to curve into a suitable boat-y shape, but he's not really here to do the thinking. There's a way, and Bruno will tell him when the time comes.]
You've got . . . let's call it til the end of this project to come up with a clever name for this ship, by the way. Don't disappoint me.
no subject
And what counts as clever for you?
no subject
no subject
I hope those aren't names you thought I'd come up with.
[Because they are terrible.]
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)