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.]
[He wrinkles his nose at him. He doesn't know Mista all that well, but he knows enough to know they're kindred spirits. Noisy, attention-getting kindred spirits.]
Oh, well-- really useful to know, I'll keep it in mind. Bruno Buccellati: doesn't mind them loud.
[He grins, and it's-- it's a come on and it isn't, all at once. There's two ways to take his answer (although admittedly you'd have to be pretty dim not to take it flirtatiously), and Polnareff doesn't know which way he'd rather Bruno go.
But if he did, would it be so bad? It's not as if flirting means anything. What had he and Giorno called it? Joke-flirting? Like he does with Jotaro-- it's not going to lead to anything, not really, because that's not-- he's not-- well. It just won't, for reasons as yet to be determined. So he can flirt, because it doesn't matter, and honestly, he's overthinking it, because there's a pretty good chance Bruno won't take it that way at all.]
[It strikes Bruno almost immediately that this is a lot more reminiscent of the Polnareff that approached Bruno outside of a school than anything Polnareff has said or done up until this point. While Bruno hadn't dismissed the person he had been then as a complete fabrication (and there'd certainly been evidence to suggest as much), but he hadn't really considered this as a possibility either.]
[So, yes, he sees it pretty plainly as flirting. There's really no mistaking it as anything but that. But Bruno also doesn't take it as anything serious and rolls his eyes.]
I suppose I only have myself to blame for that one.
[Good. Okay. That's . . . good, right? Yeah. Because if Bruno had kept it going, it would be real flirting. Being shot down means it's all just a joke, and so Polnareff successfully ignores the little jerk of disappointment in the pit of his stomach.
No, instead he laughs and finishes off his glass, relishing the taste.]
You keep setting yourself up for it. It's too easy-- I mean, there's only so much I can ignore, Buccellati.
[There's nothing in Polnareff's response that would tell Bruno's something even a slightly amiss. So when Polnareff polishes off his glass, Bruno leans over a little to get the bottle to pour him another.]
You'd think with as much time as I've spent around teenage boys, I'd be more mindful of that, but they might have been taking it easy on me all that time.
[At first, Bruno doesn't know what Polnareff is talking about. So, after pouring Polnareff a second glass and setting the bottle aside once more, he makes the mistake of taking another drink from his own glass when it hits him what Polnareff is referring to. It's only through an extreme amount of self-control that he manages to not choke but only just barely.]
He sees me as a mentor, Polnareff, [he says, trying to very gently steer the conversation away from that particular direction.] There's nothing wrong with that.
[Well, fuck that. And while Bruno is tactful, trying to keep things neutral, Polnareff just grins all the wider. It's not a joke at Giorno's expense, not really-- more like a fond acknowledgement.]
He calls me Papa, you know, it's not like you're the only one.
[Bruno holds up a hand as he shifts in his position on the bed to face Polnareff, bringing one foot up off the ground.]
That was one time, Polnareff. [Now it's just one finger.] One time.
[He levels his finger at him as he continues talking.]
And he hasn't brought anything up about it since then, [Bruno's hand turns palm up with a small movement towards Polnareff and then back towards Bruno again as he continues,] but I hardly imagine he just started calling you Papà without a conversation about it first. [He waves his hand dismissively, turning away again but not completely.] So, whatever it was, it's hardly the same thing.
[He stares, slightly transfixed, as Bruno successfully keeps him quiet with a few firm hand gestures. It's impressive, really, and his gaze lingers on his hand a few seconds after that speech is done with, just in case there's an encore.]
Suit yourself.
[Distractedly said-- but then he ducks his head in a nod, lifting his glass in a teasing salute. Whatever you say, that's what that means.]
I think it's a compliment, I don't know why you're not embracing it, but hey--
[Is it too late to rewrite the Zipping Mouths policy? There needs to be an amendment.]
[(Actually, that's not entirely true. Even if it is a shit-eating grin somewhat at Bruno's expense and because he clearly thinks he's being incredibly clever right now with that terrible joke, it's still nice to see.)]
[Bruno stares at Polnareff for a long moment in something akin to stunned silence before he shakes his head and turns just a little further away.]
You're lucky this wine tastes just good enough that it would be a waste to dump it on you right now.
[But he's not hiding a smile by taking a drink of said wine. Nope. You must have him mistaken for somebody else.]
[HAH. He comes from the Kakyoin School of Tsundere, he knows how to spot a hidden smile like anything, and that, sir, was a smile. Polnareff sips at his wine fiercely-- a prize for the victor, and he doesn't think about why it's such an exciting electric shock to earn that smile.]
Oh, excuse me-- I'll try to improve my sense of humor, just for you. Thank god I insisted on wine that wasn't entire cheap, huh?
[There's a small bubble of laughter at Polnareff's Italian. Which isn't to say that he was doing anything wrong with it, but it catches Bruno off-guard and he's had enough wine at this point to make it so that seems the only appropriate response.]
Just because I don't drink often doesn't mean I suddenly stopped being Italian.
[He says this while gesticulating in a very Italian-y way again before finishing off his glass. He doesn't make an immediate motion to refill, contemplating it for a moment before he decides why the hell not?]
Let's see . . . Germany, back when I was nineteen, then Austria. Poland after that-- I didn't stay long in those two. Greece, I lived there for a month. Egypt, for-- a while, but anyway.
[That'd been his chase with Geil, ending with his enslavement to Dio. Not something he wants to think about, and Polnareff scowls for a moment. Best to just move on, so:]
After that-- okay, yeah, then China. Singapore. India, then through Pakistan . . . yeah, then we went through Saudi Arabia and into Egypt. So-- how many is that? Ten? Yeah.
Ten? You must have a difficult time choosing a favorite then. [A beat before he adds,] Besides Francia.
[Bruno may not have the traveling experience that Polnareff does even when considering the diversity that exists even within Italy to this day nor does he really know anything about France beyond anything he might have seen in movies, but that doesn't mean he doesn't understand there's some truth to the old saying, A ogni uccello il suo nido è bello. Bruno tips his head a little like a sudden thought occurs to him.]
You must miss it though. Francia.
[It's a stark contrast between the Italian and French culture here. Neither culture is something natural here, but Bruno's surrounded by people who speak the language — either because it's their native (or close enough) language or they're learning it — and he doesn't exactly have to go far if he wants a taste of home in terms of cuisine either. And sure, the beach here isn't exactly the same as the beaches back home, but it's close enough that he can pretend for at least a few seconds. But how much is there of anything French?]
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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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[He wrinkles his nose at him. He doesn't know Mista all that well, but he knows enough to know they're kindred spirits. Noisy, attention-getting kindred spirits.]
There's nothing wrong with being loud.
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I didn't say I don't like it when someone's loud.
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[He grins, and it's-- it's a come on and it isn't, all at once. There's two ways to take his answer (although admittedly you'd have to be pretty dim not to take it flirtatiously), and Polnareff doesn't know which way he'd rather Bruno go.
But if he did, would it be so bad? It's not as if flirting means anything. What had he and Giorno called it? Joke-flirting? Like he does with Jotaro-- it's not going to lead to anything, not really, because that's not-- he's not-- well. It just won't, for reasons as yet to be determined. So he can flirt, because it doesn't matter, and honestly, he's overthinking it, because there's a pretty good chance Bruno won't take it that way at all.]
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[So, yes, he sees it pretty plainly as flirting. There's really no mistaking it as anything but that. But Bruno also doesn't take it as anything serious and rolls his eyes.]
I suppose I only have myself to blame for that one.
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No, instead he laughs and finishes off his glass, relishing the taste.]
You keep setting yourself up for it. It's too easy-- I mean, there's only so much I can ignore, Buccellati.
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You'd think with as much time as I've spent around teenage boys, I'd be more mindful of that, but they might have been taking it easy on me all that time.
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[A beat, and then:]
Well, you can. But not if they all think of you the same way Giorno does.
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He sees me as a mentor, Polnareff, [he says, trying to very gently steer the conversation away from that particular direction.] There's nothing wrong with that.
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He calls me Papa, you know, it's not like you're the only one.
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That was one time, Polnareff. [Now it's just one finger.] One time.
[He levels his finger at him as he continues talking.]
And he hasn't brought anything up about it since then, [Bruno's hand turns palm up with a small movement towards Polnareff and then back towards Bruno again as he continues,] but I hardly imagine he just started calling you Papà without a conversation about it first. [He waves his hand dismissively, turning away again but not completely.] So, whatever it was, it's hardly the same thing.
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Suit yourself.
[Distractedly said-- but then he ducks his head in a nod, lifting his glass in a teasing salute. Whatever you say, that's what that means.]
I think it's a compliment, I don't know why you're not embracing it, but hey--
[And now his grin is really wide, Christ--]
Mother knows best, right?
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[Is it too late to rewrite the Zipping Mouths policy? There needs to be an amendment.]
[(Actually, that's not entirely true. Even if it is a shit-eating grin somewhat at Bruno's expense and because he clearly thinks he's being incredibly clever right now with that terrible joke, it's still nice to see.)]
[Bruno stares at Polnareff for a long moment in something akin to stunned silence before he shakes his head and turns just a little further away.]
You're lucky this wine tastes just good enough that it would be a waste to dump it on you right now.
[But he's not hiding a smile by taking a drink of said wine. Nope. You must have him mistaken for somebody else.]
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Oh, excuse me-- I'll try to improve my sense of humor, just for you. Thank god I insisted on wine that wasn't entire cheap, huh?
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You say that like if you hadn't said anything I'd have given you cheap wine in the first place. What kind of man do you take me for, Polnareff?
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[It's an easy bit of Italian to remember.]
I've travelled through too many countries where people didn't properly appreciate a good wine-- it makes you jaded.
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Just because I don't drink often doesn't mean I suddenly stopped being Italian.
[He says this while gesticulating in a very Italian-y way again before finishing off his glass. He doesn't make an immediate motion to refill, contemplating it for a moment before he decides why the hell not?]
How many countries have you visited anyway?
[He only refills his glass to half, however.]
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[Too many to remember easily, clearly.]
Let's see . . . Germany, back when I was nineteen, then Austria. Poland after that-- I didn't stay long in those two. Greece, I lived there for a month. Egypt, for-- a while, but anyway.
[That'd been his chase with Geil, ending with his enslavement to Dio. Not something he wants to think about, and Polnareff scowls for a moment. Best to just move on, so:]
After that-- okay, yeah, then China. Singapore. India, then through Pakistan . . . yeah, then we went through Saudi Arabia and into Egypt. So-- how many is that? Ten? Yeah.
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Ten? You must have a difficult time choosing a favorite then. [A beat before he adds,] Besides Francia.
[Bruno may not have the traveling experience that Polnareff does even when considering the diversity that exists even within Italy to this day nor does he really know anything about France beyond anything he might have seen in movies, but that doesn't mean he doesn't understand there's some truth to the old saying, A ogni uccello il suo nido è bello. Bruno tips his head a little like a sudden thought occurs to him.]
You must miss it though. Francia.
[It's a stark contrast between the Italian and French culture here. Neither culture is something natural here, but Bruno's surrounded by people who speak the language — either because it's their native (or close enough) language or they're learning it — and he doesn't exactly have to go far if he wants a taste of home in terms of cuisine either. And sure, the beach here isn't exactly the same as the beaches back home, but it's close enough that he can pretend for at least a few seconds. But how much is there of anything French?]
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