[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?
[Bruno shakes his head a little and there's another short, emphatic touch to Polnareff's knee again.]
No, no. I want to know what you try to learn first.
[With significantly less wine, it's not very likely that Bruno would have said that — because he can guess, even like this, and he knows that Polnareff's right — but wine has been had and Polnareff seems so excited. It seems almost a surprise that he's not just rambling in whole sentences in French without thinking. So, whatever Bruno can do to keep that enthusiasm up, he's going to do it. Even if it means learning French phrases that he will never use.]
[There's a vague enough similarity that he can tell there is something involving a "you" and "me" of some kind. Sadly, this doesn't tell Bruno much about what it means since knowing Polnareff, there's a wide variety of potential things he's saying. He stalls for a brief moment, taking another sip of wine, waiting for maybe a translation. But even when it doesn't come Bruno dutifully repeats the words back anyway because who knows? Maybe it will make Polnareff grin again.]
[It's a little less funny and a little more . . . something, hearing that from Bruno. Polnareff's smile doesn't falter, but it's not quite the same kick he'd thought he'd get out of it.]
Perfect.
[It was, actually, and pronounced with very little accent at all, so well done Bruno. It's the most French he's heard spoken aloud in ages, too, and isn't he aware of that.]
Now you know how to ask somebody if you wanna go back to your room or theirs. Uh--
[All right. He has a few other things he likes to learn-- and does know, actually, in Japanese and English and Greek, but he won't subject them to Bruno entirely without permission.]
[Bruno's had enough wine that he can't help it. He snorts at the translation, hiding his quiet laughter behind his hand because he really should have guessed it was as much. Still, he collects himself enough to answer Polnareff's question, lowering his hand down onto the bed and leaning back onto it a little with his head tipping to one side again.]
[At least he earned that laugh again-- at his own expense, really, but that was kind of the point. Polnareff grins, pleased to hear it-- but oh, that question, and he drains his glass as he tries to think of a good one. He knows crude phrases, silly ones and sexy ones both, but there's only so filthy he can talk with Bruno-- he doesn't know him so great, you can't tell somebody how to say I'd like to blow you when you barely know them.
(And this isn't any different, he tells himself, than he and Jotaro going back and forth. It's just like how they do late at night, trading dirty phrases and come-ons, it's precisely the same, he can say shit in Japanese and Italian and English, so why not teach Bruno the same in French?)]
Well, there's always just going simple and direct: J'ai envie de toi.
[Bruno tries again to come up with the equivalent in Italian as he has the last of his wine, though he makes no motion this time to refill his glass. One and a half is enough for him. But oh, right. French. Well, Bruno's got nothing for what it means, but just as before, he repeats it anyway.]
J'ai envie de toi. [Bruno hums thoughtfully.] I like the way that one sounds.
[It certainly sounds good in Bruno's quiet voice.]
It's a good one. I want you, that's about the translation-- just as direct, too, and if you can say it right, all low and smooth . . . [He grins.] Works like a charm.
Does it? [Bruno sits back up.] I'll have to be sure to keep that one in mind then. Though ti voglio is easier to remember.
[He waves a hand a little.]
Fewer words.
[And also his native language, but he's had enough to drink so that doesn't particularly leap to his mind as a good reason for why that is.]
Ti voglio... J'ai envie de toi... [Bruno murmurs to himself before,] Mm... It does sound better in French.
[He levels a finger at Polnareff.]
Though if you breathe a word to anybody that I said that, they'll never find you.
[A comment like that from Bruno could potentially be terrifying because it's not as though it's a secret that Bruno could make it happen. But he's smiling far too much for it to be serious. At least too serious. He does still have his pride as an Italian to protect here.]
[Would he have earned that teasing a month ago? He doubts it. He doubts he'd have even gotten to see such a smile, because Bruno isn't the type to simply give them out like that. You have to earn them, and so it's all the more thrilling each time Polnareff manages to get one.
He abandons his empty wine glass on the bed in favor of pressing a hand to his chest, innocent as anything.]
French is the language of love, mon ami-- no one would blame you for preferring it. But! Your secret is safe with me.
[A few seconds-- and then, okay, he has to finish the lesson, so:]
Right. So now you've gotten them back to your place, you've told them what you want-- so, afterwards, you say: C'etait formidable-- a la meme heure demain?
[Bruno gives Polnareff a teasingly suspicious look at the promise to keep the secret, but he says nothing to the contrary, focusing instead on this little lesson. This one is one Bruno can guess at the meaning better than with the others, provided he's right and "tomorrow" occupies the end of that sentence. Bruno's smile grows a little momentarily.]
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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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[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?
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[He turns to face Polnareff better again, placing his hand on Polnareff's knee for a brief moment.]
You should teach me.
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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.
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[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.
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[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?
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No, no. I want to know what you try to learn first.
[With significantly less wine, it's not very likely that Bruno would have said that — because he can guess, even like this, and he knows that Polnareff's right — but wine has been had and Polnareff seems so excited. It seems almost a surprise that he's not just rambling in whole sentences in French without thinking. So, whatever Bruno can do to keep that enthusiasm up, he's going to do it. Even if it means learning French phrases that he will never use.]
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On va chez toi ou chez moi?
[No translation, not yet-- but it's really not all that bad. It could be so much worse.]
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On va chez toi ou chez moi?
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Perfect.
[It was, actually, and pronounced with very little accent at all, so well done Bruno. It's the most French he's heard spoken aloud in ages, too, and isn't he aware of that.]
Now you know how to ask somebody if you wanna go back to your room or theirs. Uh--
[All right. He has a few other things he likes to learn-- and does know, actually, in Japanese and English and Greek, but he won't subject them to Bruno entirely without permission.]
Romantic or sexy? You get your pick.
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What do you consider sexy?
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(And this isn't any different, he tells himself, than he and Jotaro going back and forth. It's just like how they do late at night, trading dirty phrases and come-ons, it's precisely the same, he can say shit in Japanese and Italian and English, so why not teach Bruno the same in French?)]
Well, there's always just going simple and direct: J'ai envie de toi.
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J'ai envie de toi. [Bruno hums thoughtfully.] I like the way that one sounds.
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It's a good one. I want you, that's about the translation-- just as direct, too, and if you can say it right, all low and smooth . . . [He grins.] Works like a charm.
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[He waves a hand a little.]
Fewer words.
[And also his native language, but he's had enough to drink so that doesn't particularly leap to his mind as a good reason for why that is.]
Ti voglio... J'ai envie de toi... [Bruno murmurs to himself before,] Mm... It does sound better in French.
[He levels a finger at Polnareff.]
Though if you breathe a word to anybody that I said that, they'll never find you.
[A comment like that from Bruno could potentially be terrifying because it's not as though it's a secret that Bruno could make it happen. But he's smiling far too much for it to be serious. At least too serious. He does still have his pride as an Italian to protect here.]
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He abandons his empty wine glass on the bed in favor of pressing a hand to his chest, innocent as anything.]
French is the language of love, mon ami-- no one would blame you for preferring it. But! Your secret is safe with me.
[A few seconds-- and then, okay, he has to finish the lesson, so:]
Right. So now you've gotten them back to your place, you've told them what you want-- so, afterwards, you say: C'etait formidable-- a la meme heure demain?
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C'etait formidable — a la meme heure demain?
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1/2
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