[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?]
[He admits it a little more readily than he might have, had he not been two glasses into wine-- but it's not a secret.]
The cuisine is fine, I can make that myself-- which, by the way, you oughta try, because French food is great. And the buildings don't look like anything, so I don't miss that much-- I told you, I used to live in a village, so it's not like I'm dying to see Paris architecture. But it's the language that I miss most. I mean-- well. You know. It's not the same, not speaking it and not hearing it all the time, right?
[Bruno does know. Before coming to Ruby City, Bruno had a bare minimum grasp on some aspects of English. He could listen better than he could speak, anyway. But even though he know has a fluency in it that he never had in life, he prefers so much more to have conversations in Italian when and where he can, or at the very least, not have every conversation in English.]
[He turns to face Polnareff better again, placing his hand on Polnareff's knee for a brief moment.]
Polnareff stares for a few seconds, taken aback both by the offer and the sheer genuineness in his tone. All right, Bruno might just be offering to be kind-- but there's something in his gaze that says this isn't just for tonight.]
Yeah?
[The stunned expression doesn't last-- soon it's replaced by a grin, wide and excited, his cheeks flushed.]
Yeah, all right! Hell, we can start right now--
[He scoots closer, until their knees bump together and he can focus properly on Bruno.]
Right. Repeat after me: bonjour, je m'appelle Bruno.
[The fact of the matter is that while Bruno is exceptionally kind — potentially the to the detriment of himself if his mother was to be believed — he never truly does anything simply to be kind. Kindness without sincerity is hollow and meaningless. So when he tells Polnareff that he should teach him French, Polnareff is right to suspect Bruno isn't just suggesting a means of passing the rest of the night.]
[Polnareff's enthusiasm is infectious and Bruno comes fairly close to grinning himself when Polnareff scoots in closer, but he's also intently focused. Particularly, he's a little focused on Polnareff's mouth because although you could put a Spaniard or a Romanian in front of Bruno and he could likely guess accurately at what they were saying, French might as well come from a completely different language family with the way it sounds. So, Bruno's attentive to the formation of the sound from what he can observe.]
[Of course, he only dedicates that much attention because it's a simple sentence that Bruno can quickly translate into Italian in his mind. Bruno's a little slower repeating it back, being mindful of the pronunciation.]
[He could have butchered the pronunciation and Polnareff would have cheered-- but he truly does say it well.]
Italian and French, we've got a lot of words in common-- half the time when Kakyoin or Jotaro says something in Italian I can guess what they mean. Okay, so that's how to say hello--
[This isn't the way to teach him, but he's too tipsy and too excited to care. They can do proper lessons later, if Bruno is truly interested. Tonight is for casual things. He bites his bottom lip, trying to think.]
Right-- okay, so when I learn a new language, there's always shit I learn first-- but you're not me, and I'm guessing you're not going to want to use that kind of French, so what kind of stuff do you want to know?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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?
no subject
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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
I didn't say I don't like it when someone's loud.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[A beat, and then:]
Well, you can. But not if they all think of you the same way Giorno does.
no subject
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.
no subject
He calls me Papa, you know, it's not like you're the only one.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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?
no subject
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?
no subject
[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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
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?]
no subject
[He admits it a little more readily than he might have, had he not been two glasses into wine-- but it's not a secret.]
The cuisine is fine, I can make that myself-- which, by the way, you oughta try, because French food is great. And the buildings don't look like anything, so I don't miss that much-- I told you, I used to live in a village, so it's not like I'm dying to see Paris architecture. But it's the language that I miss most. I mean-- well. You know. It's not the same, not speaking it and not hearing it all the time, right?
no subject
[He turns to face Polnareff better again, placing his hand on Polnareff's knee for a brief moment.]
You should teach me.
no subject
Polnareff stares for a few seconds, taken aback both by the offer and the sheer genuineness in his tone. All right, Bruno might just be offering to be kind-- but there's something in his gaze that says this isn't just for tonight.]
Yeah?
[The stunned expression doesn't last-- soon it's replaced by a grin, wide and excited, his cheeks flushed.]
Yeah, all right! Hell, we can start right now--
[He scoots closer, until their knees bump together and he can focus properly on Bruno.]
Right. Repeat after me: bonjour, je m'appelle Bruno.
no subject
[Polnareff's enthusiasm is infectious and Bruno comes fairly close to grinning himself when Polnareff scoots in closer, but he's also intently focused. Particularly, he's a little focused on Polnareff's mouth because although you could put a Spaniard or a Romanian in front of Bruno and he could likely guess accurately at what they were saying, French might as well come from a completely different language family with the way it sounds. So, Bruno's attentive to the formation of the sound from what he can observe.]
[Of course, he only dedicates that much attention because it's a simple sentence that Bruno can quickly translate into Italian in his mind. Bruno's a little slower repeating it back, being mindful of the pronunciation.]
Bonjour, je m'appelle Bruno.
no subject
[He could have butchered the pronunciation and Polnareff would have cheered-- but he truly does say it well.]
Italian and French, we've got a lot of words in common-- half the time when Kakyoin or Jotaro says something in Italian I can guess what they mean. Okay, so that's how to say hello--
[This isn't the way to teach him, but he's too tipsy and too excited to care. They can do proper lessons later, if Bruno is truly interested. Tonight is for casual things. He bites his bottom lip, trying to think.]
Right-- okay, so when I learn a new language, there's always shit I learn first-- but you're not me, and I'm guessing you're not going to want to use that kind of French, so what kind of stuff do you want to know?
(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)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)