[Texting is allowing Polnareff to live up to his full potential of shitposting to Kakyoin to annoy him and to hit up everyone else for a good time. It is an important and marvelous invention for these reasons alone.]
I don't really drink often enough to have a preference, but shouldn't it be to your preferences? It's your winnings.
well yeah obviously but if i pick something out you absolutely hate and you don't drink it where does that leave me? drinking alone nobody wants to drink alone or well some people do but I dont is the point
all right call it wine then you're italian i trust you to pick something out as someone who does drink i can tell you any wine that's over like $25 is definitely not worth it
[True to his word, Bruno turns up a few hours later outside of Polnareff's door with the promised bottle of wine with two glasses and a corkscrew. Of course, that leaves Bruno's hands a bit full, so Sticky Finger lends a quick hand to knock on the door before completely vanishing from sight again.]
[A greeting and a smile, all for Bruno, and Polnareff steps back, inviting him in. It's not the first time Bruno's seen his room, no, but it's the first time he's been in here without distraction-- so it might as well be the first.
It's less messy than one might expect. The laundry, true, is in a pile in a corner, but it's a pile, organized and kept to one spot. The walls are bare, painted a deep scarlet with gold border, and the windows are thrown open. There's a few books from the library, mostly sports biographies, stacked by his bed. The smell of cigarettes lingers, but that's a given.
There's no desk or chairs, unfortunately, a fact that Polnareff seems to realize belatedly. But what the hell, they're friends, so he goes to sit on the bed, legs crossed under him. Follow suit, pal.]
So what'd you have to trade to get it? I always wonder, for other people. Kakyoin's got his emeralds, and I figure Jotaro probably uses those too, but.
[t's at least in a semi-organized pile and contained, but that's also not where laundry is supposed to go. So Bruno spares a glance to the laundry, but he says nothing of it. The books get a similar cursory glance, long enough that he can tell it has something to do with sports of some kind — hell if Bruno really knows more than that — and then his attention is settled on Polnareff as he passes off the glasses to him.]
I usually do a few routine chores or minor repairs depending on what the person needs or wants. This wasn't any different.
[Bruno sits near Polnareff, but while he's not on the edge of the bed, his feet remain on the ground. He starts opening the bottle.]
I'm used to it. I had a similar arrangement with most of the elderly in Napoli. Especially the widows or the ones whose families couldn't afford to visit often. [Bruno smiles a little.] Most of them would have a list of chores for me by the time I checked in on them again to keep me there for hours at times.
I'm not sure if you've ever been around an Italian nonna before, but there's two things they all love to do: talk and feed people. We'd chat about their families or whatever gossip they heard recently while I worked and eventually they would get around to fussing that I was too skinny and needed to eat more.
[Bruno pulls the cork free and motions for the first glass to pour.]
They didn't usually have much to spare, but turning them down would have been insulting.
[He offers the glass and listens with a smile-- pleased both by the story itself and the picture it paints. Italy is still a distant foreign haze for him, uncertain and mostly illustrated by stories of fights and criminal struggles. Something so sweet and simple is good to hear about.]
Well, you are skinny. God forbid they didn't shove food on you, you might've just disappeared and then who'd fix their roof?
[Murmured, and he sets his chin in the palm of his hand, offering a grin.]
So how many times did they try to set you up with their granddaughters?
[While pouring the first glass, Bruno makes a face that could be simply translated to you little shit at being called skinny, but doesn't debate it because how can one argue against the truth?]
Not as often as they asked me to straighten out their grandsons. [He starts pouring for the second glass.] It wasn't exactly a secret to them that I was a gangster. So they were far more interested in my ability to...persuade than my availability.
[Bruno sets the bottle aside.]
And before you ask, no. I never actually let them set me up with anyone the few times they tried.
More's the pity-- think of all the food you would've gotten if you'd actually settled down. Might've even gotten half as big as me, hm?
[He offers him a winning grin. Don't zip up his mouth in retaliation, Bruno, he's only teasing. And just to make sure that doesn't actually happen, he adds:]
So what does straightening out mean? Like, what, a heart-to-heart or some really firm talks and implied threats?
[Polnareff's not in any danger of having his mouth zipped shut, but Bruno does roll his eyes with a slight smile. Only a slight smile, however. He's in no way encouraging that tomfoolery.]
Honestly, I tried not to get involved that much with those sorts of things. Some things are simply a family matter. So, for example, if it was something like cutting school or shoplifting, I might give them some advice on how to address it and the family could do with that what they will, but I would never directly involve myself.
But if it was something serious like an adult beating a child, their spouse, or their parents or grandparents, they'd know what the consequences would be if I heard about them raising their hand even once.
[So, they weren't really implied threats so much as an expected immediate end to the problem with no room for negotiation or testing the seriousness of the quite explicit threats. Polnareff will also likely notice the tone Bruno has now is the same one as when he was talking about the men that tried to kill his father. Bruno is an exceedingly patient man, but there are simply some things he won't tolerate.]
[There's a note of a joke in there, but his expression says he's serious.]
That's how Giorno helped introduce it all to me. I mean, the word mafia sounds kinda . . . awful, you know? But then he told me about that gangster who stopped his shit stepfather. And it's the same kind of thing-- protection, no matter who it is, because they're under your jurisdiction.
[He can understand that. God knows he can; his Stand is the personification of protection.]
It's the way it should be. Passione shouldn't exist to the benefit of one man or act as a parasite to the whole of the community. It should be a mutually beneficial relationship. The community is willing to look the other way on some of the uglier things Passione has to do and Passione puts its resources to offering the community protection and security. We are supposed to be outside the law to make up for its failings and the loopholes others would exploit.
But that's not what Diavolo ever intended. Instead of eliminating the drug trade, he simply took it for himself. And as it spread the people of Napoli were growing afraid. The most I could do was lie to them until I could figure out some way to end the trade from the inside.
[Bruno shakes his head a little.]
But Giorno's changing all of that. I know he'll finish making Passione into what it should be once he returns home. It will take time for the damage caused by the drug trade to heal, but he has the will and the ability to make it so.
[There's no we there, no promise of that idealized future for Bruno. Polnareff notes that, quietly, and though there's no bitterness or wistfulness in Buccellati's tone, he wonders. He'd be upset, if he were in his position. Dying for the cause was one thing-- but having to live with that decision, being aware of a future you very much aren't a part of, is another.
He doesn't say that. What would be the point? Polnareff sips at his wine, noting with some surprise that it's actually pretty good. Red, yeah, and he'd kind of expected something cheap, but this is sweet.]
I didn't know getting rid of the drug trade was such a big part of it.
The same drug trade that nearly killed my father made Diavolo rich and powerful.
[And that's where there's a brief halt. Talk of the drug trade touches too closely to the few regrets Bruno has even now, even knowing what Giorno is managing to accomplish. It's not that he doesn't want to acknowledge it — he's not a child and about to create an elaborate albeit potentially flimsy smokescreen for his mistakes — but it cuts to the quick all the same when thinking of it. Bruno clips it off there, leaving whatever Polnareff would like to interpret implied.]
Diavolo was selfish, but he was also ruthless. After he eliminated the competition, he was able to set the prices at whatever he wanted. People would be desperate enough to pay or do whatever it took to get the money together to pay for their next fix. And he didn't just expand the market in terms of its territory. He had his dealers peddling drugs to children.
[Because it was a perfect business model to get them started that young. Regardless of how long they managed to survive, he had them for life without intervention, and there simply wasn't enough intervention available to stem the tide. And there simply are not enough words to possibly capture the degree to which this and everything to do with Diavolo both disgusts and angers Bruno even now, but it's a cold anger now and different from the one he experienced in the elevator after Trish was snatched away and he gave his life to return her to safety.]
He didn't care about the lives he ruined or the families he tore apart. He was content to make his profit off the suffering of others. Any threats to the trade or the rare threat to him, he eliminated swiftly and turned them into examples until no one dared to challenge him.
[It isn't that Polnareff had ever thought Giorno wasn't justified in his particular method of execution for Diavolo. He'd compared the man to Dio and assumed that, like Dio, Diavolo had deserved that hell. But they'd never really covered what the man had done. Corruption, Giorno had said, and Polnareff hadn't pursued the line of questioning-- he'd been too raw from too many wounds to hear about another tragedy in the world, especially one he couldn't do anything about.
Children, though . . . something in his stomach twisted awfully at that, hot and angry, sickened despite the fact Diavolo was dead and gone. Some of that anger must show in his face-- it's nothing compared to what Bruno feels, but it's there nonetheless, hard and hot.
No wonder he'd been after Diavolo in the future. And--]
No wonder you wanted to destroy him. Not just kill him, but take apart what he'd done. Make it so nothing he did remained.
Not everything, [he says, almost softly. Bruno hums softly and most of the anger manages to seep out of him.] The only good thing Diavolo put into this world and he had so very little to do with how she turned out.
[And he says "very little" not as an allusion to her genetics, but rather the things that Diavolo did that solidified what was going to truly matter to her in Trish's heart. Bruno has little doubt that her relationship to her father is and always will be complicated. But she knows now the mark she wants to leave in the world and it looks nothing like what Diavolo had tried to do.]
[Bruno's eyebrows raise a little at that. If there's one thing Giorno is excellent at doing, it's speaking at near-excessive lengths about the people he cares about most, and Trish certainly ranks high enough for that. Then again, get him on the topic of Mista and it's hard to get him to stop. So, it's entirely possible that conversation about Trish fell to the wayside.]
[Still, Bruno returns Polnareff's half-smile with a little one of his own and takes his first sip of his wine.]
She had a normal life until her mother died, so I think the others saw her as spoiled at first, but I really didn't know what to make of her when she was first brought to us. [Bruno pauses and then shakes his head.] No, I think I underestimated her then. Because she had such a comfortable life, I expected her to get scared enough to cry and make bad decisions that would put the rest of the team at risk, but she never did any of that. Hell, even when she had the chance to put herself first, she didn't. Even before Spice Girl manifested, she was willing to try and save the others if she could, even if it meant disobeying one of my orders or putting herself at risk.
I only ever saw her break down once, just before getting on the elevator to meet her father. But she got back up and stepped onto the elevator all on her own. I don't think I could have predicted her to be as strong and brave as she is, but Trish is the sort of person who will always exceed your expectations.
[It's odd, piecing this together with the scraps he's heard from Giorno. It isn't that Trish has ever been a secret, no-- but three months isn't so long, and there'd been so much for he and Giorno to cover in their conversations. He'd had a vague image of someone a little like Kakyoin-- mean, when they wanted to be, but supremely intelligent. Young, of course, as all of Giorno's friends are, young in a way that seems a little distant to Polnareff.
Nothing Bruno says contradicts that. Rather, it adds to the picture, filling in some of the corners, helping him form something clearer. Brave, he now adds, and composed, and brilliant-- and god, no wonder Giorno loves her so much.]
Maybe I'll get the chance to meet her someday.
[It's a deliberate echo of what Bruno had told him when they were stuck together, when it'd been Narancia and not Trish they'd discussed.]
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I don't really drink often enough to have a preference, but shouldn't it be to your preferences? It's your winnings.
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drinking alone
nobody wants to drink alone
or well some people do but I dont
is the point
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But I really have no preferences. I rarely drink outside of special occasions.
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call it wine then
you're italian i trust you to pick something out
as someone who does drink i can tell you any wine that's over like
$25
is definitely not worth it
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i don't know
one direwolf pelt
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Alright, I'll keep that in mind and be by in a few hours.
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[A greeting and a smile, all for Bruno, and Polnareff steps back, inviting him in. It's not the first time Bruno's seen his room, no, but it's the first time he's been in here without distraction-- so it might as well be the first.
It's less messy than one might expect. The laundry, true, is in a pile in a corner, but it's a pile, organized and kept to one spot. The walls are bare, painted a deep scarlet with gold border, and the windows are thrown open. There's a few books from the library, mostly sports biographies, stacked by his bed. The smell of cigarettes lingers, but that's a given.
There's no desk or chairs, unfortunately, a fact that Polnareff seems to realize belatedly. But what the hell, they're friends, so he goes to sit on the bed, legs crossed under him. Follow suit, pal.]
So what'd you have to trade to get it? I always wonder, for other people. Kakyoin's got his emeralds, and I figure Jotaro probably uses those too, but.
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I usually do a few routine chores or minor repairs depending on what the person needs or wants. This wasn't any different.
[Bruno sits near Polnareff, but while he's not on the edge of the bed, his feet remain on the ground. He starts opening the bottle.]
I'm used to it. I had a similar arrangement with most of the elderly in Napoli. Especially the widows or the ones whose families couldn't afford to visit often. [Bruno smiles a little.] Most of them would have a list of chores for me by the time I checked in on them again to keep me there for hours at times.
I'm not sure if you've ever been around an Italian nonna before, but there's two things they all love to do: talk and feed people. We'd chat about their families or whatever gossip they heard recently while I worked and eventually they would get around to fussing that I was too skinny and needed to eat more.
[Bruno pulls the cork free and motions for the first glass to pour.]
They didn't usually have much to spare, but turning them down would have been insulting.
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Well, you are skinny. God forbid they didn't shove food on you, you might've just disappeared and then who'd fix their roof?
[Murmured, and he sets his chin in the palm of his hand, offering a grin.]
So how many times did they try to set you up with their granddaughters?
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Not as often as they asked me to straighten out their grandsons. [He starts pouring for the second glass.] It wasn't exactly a secret to them that I was a gangster. So they were far more interested in my ability to...persuade than my availability.
[Bruno sets the bottle aside.]
And before you ask, no. I never actually let them set me up with anyone the few times they tried.
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[He offers him a winning grin. Don't zip up his mouth in retaliation, Bruno, he's only teasing. And just to make sure that doesn't actually happen, he adds:]
So what does straightening out mean? Like, what, a heart-to-heart or some really firm talks and implied threats?
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Honestly, I tried not to get involved that much with those sorts of things. Some things are simply a family matter. So, for example, if it was something like cutting school or shoplifting, I might give them some advice on how to address it and the family could do with that what they will, but I would never directly involve myself.
But if it was something serious like an adult beating a child, their spouse, or their parents or grandparents, they'd know what the consequences would be if I heard about them raising their hand even once.
[So, they weren't really implied threats so much as an expected immediate end to the problem with no room for negotiation or testing the seriousness of the quite explicit threats. Polnareff will also likely notice the tone Bruno has now is the same one as when he was talking about the men that tried to kill his father. Bruno is an exceedingly patient man, but there are simply some things he won't tolerate.]
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[There's a note of a joke in there, but his expression says he's serious.]
That's how Giorno helped introduce it all to me. I mean, the word mafia sounds kinda . . . awful, you know? But then he told me about that gangster who stopped his shit stepfather. And it's the same kind of thing-- protection, no matter who it is, because they're under your jurisdiction.
[He can understand that. God knows he can; his Stand is the personification of protection.]
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But that's not what Diavolo ever intended. Instead of eliminating the drug trade, he simply took it for himself. And as it spread the people of Napoli were growing afraid. The most I could do was lie to them until I could figure out some way to end the trade from the inside.
[Bruno shakes his head a little.]
But Giorno's changing all of that. I know he'll finish making Passione into what it should be once he returns home. It will take time for the damage caused by the drug trade to heal, but he has the will and the ability to make it so.
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He doesn't say that. What would be the point? Polnareff sips at his wine, noting with some surprise that it's actually pretty good. Red, yeah, and he'd kind of expected something cheap, but this is sweet.]
I didn't know getting rid of the drug trade was such a big part of it.
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[And that's where there's a brief halt. Talk of the drug trade touches too closely to the few regrets Bruno has even now, even knowing what Giorno is managing to accomplish. It's not that he doesn't want to acknowledge it — he's not a child and about to create an elaborate albeit potentially flimsy smokescreen for his mistakes — but it cuts to the quick all the same when thinking of it. Bruno clips it off there, leaving whatever Polnareff would like to interpret implied.]
Diavolo was selfish, but he was also ruthless. After he eliminated the competition, he was able to set the prices at whatever he wanted. People would be desperate enough to pay or do whatever it took to get the money together to pay for their next fix. And he didn't just expand the market in terms of its territory. He had his dealers peddling drugs to children.
[Because it was a perfect business model to get them started that young. Regardless of how long they managed to survive, he had them for life without intervention, and there simply wasn't enough intervention available to stem the tide. And there simply are not enough words to possibly capture the degree to which this and everything to do with Diavolo both disgusts and angers Bruno even now, but it's a cold anger now and different from the one he experienced in the elevator after Trish was snatched away and he gave his life to return her to safety.]
He didn't care about the lives he ruined or the families he tore apart. He was content to make his profit off the suffering of others. Any threats to the trade or the rare threat to him, he eliminated swiftly and turned them into examples until no one dared to challenge him.
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Children, though . . . something in his stomach twisted awfully at that, hot and angry, sickened despite the fact Diavolo was dead and gone. Some of that anger must show in his face-- it's nothing compared to what Bruno feels, but it's there nonetheless, hard and hot.
No wonder he'd been after Diavolo in the future. And--]
No wonder you wanted to destroy him. Not just kill him, but take apart what he'd done. Make it so nothing he did remained.
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[And he says "very little" not as an allusion to her genetics, but rather the things that Diavolo did that solidified what was going to truly matter to her in Trish's heart. Bruno has little doubt that her relationship to her father is and always will be complicated. But she knows now the mark she wants to leave in the world and it looks nothing like what Diavolo had tried to do.]
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[He says it with half a smile-- not patronizing, but pleased. Happy to hear about someone that Bruno likes so much. Polnareff sips at his wine.]
I know a bit from Giorno, but not much.
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[Still, Bruno returns Polnareff's half-smile with a little one of his own and takes his first sip of his wine.]
She had a normal life until her mother died, so I think the others saw her as spoiled at first, but I really didn't know what to make of her when she was first brought to us. [Bruno pauses and then shakes his head.] No, I think I underestimated her then. Because she had such a comfortable life, I expected her to get scared enough to cry and make bad decisions that would put the rest of the team at risk, but she never did any of that. Hell, even when she had the chance to put herself first, she didn't. Even before Spice Girl manifested, she was willing to try and save the others if she could, even if it meant disobeying one of my orders or putting herself at risk.
I only ever saw her break down once, just before getting on the elevator to meet her father. But she got back up and stepped onto the elevator all on her own. I don't think I could have predicted her to be as strong and brave as she is, but Trish is the sort of person who will always exceed your expectations.
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Nothing Bruno says contradicts that. Rather, it adds to the picture, filling in some of the corners, helping him form something clearer. Brave, he now adds, and composed, and brilliant-- and god, no wonder Giorno loves her so much.]
Maybe I'll get the chance to meet her someday.
[It's a deliberate echo of what Bruno had told him when they were stuck together, when it'd been Narancia and not Trish they'd discussed.]
'S it true Spice Girl can talk?
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Just like Sex Pistols. Though she doesn't seem to be nearly as loud.
[Bruno smiles a little wider as he takes another sip. Even Bruno dunks a little on Mista sometimes.]
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