risorto | {ic inbox}

It only counts if you managed to do an even line. I'd also be willing to award bonus points if you managed to wing it at all. But I think I'm still ahead when I'm wearing it more days than not.

Don't you think it's a little poor taste to beat someone in their own establishment?

it was more even than yours i bet
not wings though you got me there
i don't even know what wings area

and no
not when it's jotaro kujo
i lost a bet to him over pool a few months ago
after that all limits are off

If you want to learn, I can teach you. Or I'm sure Giorno can.

You should have told me that from the beginning. I'll definitely help you.

[There's a little pause, and then:]

so come teach me

(& i was hoping youd do it out of FRIENDSHIP)
(because we're co-parents to our don)
(because we've worked on a BOAT together)
(i mean revenge works too but come on bruno)

Alright, give me a minute.

Being willing to help someone get revenge is a great gesture of friendship.

[So what are you talking about?]

just as long as its in the name of friendship thats all i ask

[Here's a story: once upon a time, when he was sixteen, Polnareff had quite liked a girl. Her name is unimportant. What is important is that she'd been very fond of gardening. For a whole spring, Polnareff had learned way too much about gardening in order to actually have something to talk about to this girl.

This is a little like that. He's aware of that as he gets up to open the door to his room, but so what? Just because something repeats doesn't mean it's inherently bad.]

[Bruno's coming down the hall with a small bag tucked under his arm. (Listen, it's not that he's allergic to color, he's just got an aesthetic.) He figured Polnareff probably didn't have any supplies of his own and if he did, they were limited.]

I'll do one eye and you do the other? [he asks, stepping into Polnareff's room. He only wanders a few steps in, but it's in the obvious direction of the bed to sit.]

Yeah, sure--

[He gestures towards the space before him, inviting-- but gets up to grab something off his dresser. Whatever it is, it's small enough to safely be covered by his fingers, and then it's shoved in his pocket, so-- doesn't matter! And then he returns to sitting across from Bruno.]

So I'm guessing it looks just like it sounds? Like--

[He gestures with one finger, curving an eye-like shape before swooping out into an exaggerated line.]

[...Real casual, Polnareff. Bruno would never notice that. But even with as quickly as Polnareff runs over to his dresser and back, Bruno doesn't say anything about it. He just sits down on the bed and unzips his bag.]

More or less. The longer it is, the more dramatic it is, but I'd recommend starting out with something a little smaller until you get confident with it. [He pauses.] You don't have a preference between liquid or gel, do you?

I don't even know the difference.

[So it's your call, buddy. He bites back another sentence-- something like, I'm not exactly going to practice this-- because that would give away the (admittedly flimsy) game. There's a pretext for this meeting, and god forbid he destroy it with a clumsy misstep.

Anyway, he's got better things to ask. Polnareff leans in, peering at the bag curiously.]

What else you got in there?

We'll start you with liquid. It's a little more precise.

[He says this more to himself than to Polnareff and pulls said liquid liner out as well as a pencil. He looks up at the question.]

Oh, I don't keep much. [There may or may not be an implied unlike some people. Can't imagine who he'd be referring to if there was though.] Mascara, a couple tubes of lipstick, some concealer...

[And if Polnareff does look inside, Bruno really does keep a minimal collection. Even his lipstick doesn't vary that much in color, most of them nude with only a single black lipstick as a noticeable difference.]

[It's not exactly the rainbow of variety that Giorno had pulled out, but he'd sort of expected that. He mostly wears black and white, Giorno had said, and Polnareff can appreciate that-- he likes the simplicity of a solid black top as much as the next man. But if you're going to wear makeup, you might as well be loud about it, right?

In his opinion, anyway, which probably only counts for half an opinion. Anyway, all this mostly-monochrome works out, because it makes what's resting in his pants pocket work all the better.]

'S it that common in the future, guys wearing makeup? I think you and Giorno are the first guys I've met who wear it so often.

[He says it and sits still, waiting for Bruno to start.]

Mm, no, I wouldn't call it common. Not in Italia, anyway. Most men adhere strongly to machismo still.

[It's here he hesitates and he uncaps the pencil with a quick, small distracting sentence of,]

Close your eyes.

[And once Polnareff's eyes are closed, he scoots a little closer to hold Polnareff's chin gently with one hand and making small dots along Polnareff's lash line. And then he parts with it,]

I actually didn't wear any until I met Abbacchio. He wore a lot of it — more than I ever would and not the way I wear it. He's always sharp edges and hard lines, and it makes him look mean, but I liked it on him.

[Abbacchio never thought much of himself. He saw himself as a fuck up and one second away from destroying anything. But that's not the sort of person he really was, not in Bruno's opinion. Abbacchio wore his makeup as a way of hiding his insecurity, but Bruno saw it as bringing who he was to light. So, maybe he was a little mean, but Abbacchio was strong, too. Stronger than he realized.]

[Bruno's finished laying down the dots. He reaches into his bag again to pull out a small compact mirror and opens it for Polnareff to see.]

First step is laying out your outline with dots. You want one on about each side of your iris, in the middle of your pupil, and near the end of your white on the outer corner. Then you want a dot for where your wing will end.

[True to his word, Bruno's kept the wing small. He holds the pencil out to Polnareff to do the other eye.]

[It's an effort, not opening his eyes when Bruno begins talking about Abbacchio. He's the Passione member Polnareff knows least about-- really, all he does know is that he died. The fact that he hasn't heard much speaks volumes, but far be it for Polnareff to judge. He's only spoken about Abdul twice since he got here, and only one of those times to someone outside his core group.]

All right.

[He says that in response to the makeup lesson-- and oh, yeah, he was supposed to be paying attention, wasn't he? Dots, right, and-- well, how different can it be from what Star and Giorno did? It's a straight line, except towards the outside, where you wing it. Yeah. All right, he can imitate that. Polnareff squints into the mirror, his hands moving in aborted little gestures as he gets used to using the mirror-- and then begins.]

What was he like?

[He keeps his gaze on himself as he asks. Nominally, it's so he can see what the hell he's doing (dots, and it's actually not a bad effort so far, but this is only the beginning)-- but there's another reason as well. Bruno deserves privacy for a question like that, god knows. If he wants to linger on the subject, they will, but if it still hurts too much-- well, he'll have the space to hurt, and to brush past the subject, should he desire.]

[Bruno intertwines his fingers together, resting them on his thigh once Polnareff's taken the pencil from him, but he only tightens his grip marginally at the question. He should be looking at Polnareff, but his eyes dart away to somewhere else instead as he thinks of what to say. If he should say.]

[Ci si sente come se ho perso il mio cuore.]

[That's what he had told Giorno shortly after it happened. A few days after that one day when Abbacchio simply was no longer there. And it still feels that way sometimes if Bruno lets himself think about it — which he doesn't. Not often anyway. And he tells himself it's because he's still holding onto the firm belief that he will come back. He follows Bruno everywhere, he'll follow him again here. No matter how long it takes or what he has to go through to get there. Looking at it from any other way... Well, Bruno simply won't.]

He probably would have hated you, [he says with a small puff of laughter, gaze dropping a moment to the floor before he looks at Polnareff again to watch his progress.] Which wouldn't really have been anything personal. He didn't really like many people, and hated newcomers most of all. So, he put them through hell to prove their loyalty. After a while, he'd back off, but he never really went out of his way to be kind to anyone. It's why he never really warmed up to Giorno. Giorno took all the shit Abbacchio gave him and didn't make a fuss out of it.

[And then he had more reasons when he came here, when he found out what happened to Bruno and Giorno took the brunt of the blame against Bruno's wishes to make things more comfortable for Abbacchio. If there was ever one thing that Bruno wishes he could do over...]

He was older than me by a few months, so he didn't really relate as well to the others, but it was obvious they looked up to him at least some because he stayed focused on the missions and followed orders no matter. [Bruno shakes his head a little.] But he wasn't some kind of mindless drone. Abbacchio was the only one on the team who ever openly disagreed with me.

[What Bruno doesn't say is that he was really the first one to follow because he was also the first to fall. The first to fall and Bruno had no other choice but to leave his body there for someone to find. Someone who didn't know him and never would. Someone who would probably look at him and assume he got what he deserved once the initial shock and horror died down. Someone who wouldn't understand the light that went out when he took his final breath. He'd have been carted off to a morgue to wait until Giorno came to collect him and give him a funeral service that Abbacchio probably would have scoffed and sneered at if he wasn't the one they were burying.]

[He was a good man and he had deserved so much better than what had been handed to him.]

He was never easy to like even on his good days, but I think you would have anyway.

[He knows the notes of Bruno's tone, because it's the same voice he'd used when he'd spoken about Abdul. It's grief, still raw and hurting, an ache in your heart that you're always aware of, every hour of every day-- but there's a yearning to speak, rather than tuck the pain away. You want to talk about them, make sure their memory isn't forgotten, even if it kills you to talk about them, because they deserve to be remembered. Because they died doing what was right, and that ought not to be forgotten.

Yeah, he knows that tone. In some ways, he thinks, Bruno is stronger than him-- he can speak of Abbacchio without his voice wavering, without choking with grief or charging past the subject. That's more than Polnareff can say about himself.]

I probably would have.

[He doesn't often use a soft tone of voice, preferring to blast his emotions full-volume-- but exceptions can be made. He murmurs the words and glances up from the mirror-- meeting Bruno's eyes, his own soft with shared sympathy.]

I won't say I'm sorry, because I never liked hearing that, but--

[He pauses, glances away for a moment, trying to find the right words.]

He was here, and then he wasn't. And I don't know if I could take that, if it was me and my friend. [A beat.] I know I couldn't take that.

[The softness surprises Bruno. Not that he thinks Polnareff is incapable of being soft, but it's the first time he's really seen it before. At least like this where there feels like complete (albeit unfortunate) understanding. In some ways, it feels familiar and warm, but in some ways it feels alien and uncomfortable. The two sensations sit side-by-side one another and don't vie with one another for Bruno's absolute attention, giving him at least a small moment to acknowledge them both in turn, his grip in his lap relaxing.]

[He knows why it feels uncomfortable because it always is when he feels like he's being seen. It doesn't matter if he's the one pulling back the curtain or not, it always happens where he doesn't exactly feel ready to crawl out of his own skin, but he wants to fidget and move away despite never doing either. As to the other... Well, it's not often that Bruno feels this way with another person, where they simply seem to understand whether it's because he let them or they figured it out first. But it's because it's rare that he's so attentive to it that it feels remembered as something would be if it were familiar. Like remembering the melody of a favorite song or the way the sky looks when the sun's beginning to dip below the horizon created by the ocean.]

I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit. [He holds his hand out for the pencil.] You still came back.

[Truthfully, Bruno doesn't know if he should have said that because talking about lost friends is one thing and family is another, but he felt it needed saying. Maybe Polnareff and Bruno don't survive in the same way, but Polnareff is still here and maybe even in ways that Bruno isn't even now.]

[He tips his head in acknowledgement-- he did, yeah, bloodied and numb with grief, but he'd come back-- and hands the pencil back to him.]

And you're still here.

[So they both managed to survive and keep going, even if there were times when neither of them wanted to. Polnareff offers a slight smile, sad and soft all at once, and lets it linger for a moment. Someday, he thinks, he'll tell Bruno about Abdul and Sherry. Both of them deserve to be talked about-- not just in the light of grief, but fondly, just as he'd once regaled Giorno with stories about his sister.

That smile lingers for just a few moments, though. There's no sense in they both of them wallowing for their loved ones gone. Polnareff pushes his smile into becoming something stronger, something a little more teasing.]

So how do I look, hm?

[The effect, for the record, isn't horrific. There's a clear difference between the left and right eye, and he was admittedly distracted by their conversation, but at least the liner is on there, and it's all one line, so . . . progress. But his smile invites teasing, because of course he's not very good at this at all, and doesn't he know it.]

[And you're still here.]

[It's almost strange how it really wasn't that long ago that was being called in question. Repeatedly and by a number of people even if not all of them had the ability to say as much to Bruno. Sometimes he does still wonder whether or not he's here, but he thinks if someone like Polnareff noticed that he is, then he must be. At least right now, if nothing else. And that counts for something.]

[Bruno lets his attention be pulled back into makeup and looks between the two eyes. It's obvious which one of them has a more practiced hand for this sort of thing, but Polnareff managed well enough. He exhales sharply through his nose, turning his head a little with a smile.]

Close your eyes again, [he says like he isn't going to bring himself to answer that question seriously, and the only thing he can do is pretend like he didn't hear it.]

[But he's only teasing. It's really not that bad for someone who hasn't worn eyeliner all that much.]

That bad, huh?

[He grins as he obediently closes his eyes. Funny, isn't it, how he's perfectly fine with all this. A month ago, he'd been terrified to even try this with Jotaro-- he'd had to make sure all the doors were closed, because god forbid anyone walk in and see him. But now . . .

It's not that he's so much more comfortable with the concept itself. He's definitely going to wipe this off before he goes outside. But it's easy to relax around Bruno. It's easy to just be around Bruno.]

Hey, don't let me forget-- I got something for you, when you're done with this.

[Bruno starts drawing the other side of the wing's outline with the pencil. He raises an eyebrow.]

You did? What for? [He sets the pencil aside for the moment and picks up the liquid liner. As he's opening it, he warns,] This is going to feel cold at first. If you flinch, any stray marks will be completely your fault.

Not really for anything.

[Man, him and Kakyoin with the reasons needed for presents. Polnareff keeps himself as still as he can, though now he's a little tense thanks to that warning.]

What, I gotta have a reason to give a friend a present?

[Bruno's careful in putting the liquid liner on, only doing a little with the first stroke of it just in case Polnareff does flinch. From there, he does longer strokes, but he still takes his time in going over the line on his lash line and filling in the wing to a sharp, thin point.]

Most people do. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries. [A beat.] Ulterior motives, bribery.

[He's kidding about the last couple, okay. Bruno is nowhere near that paranoid.]

[That tone sounds teasing, but still his mouth purses a little in indignance.]

Well, I don't. And I don't want to wait until-- hey, when is your birthday, anyway?

It's not for a couple months. [He comes to a halt with speaking since he's on the very tip of the wing and his full concentration is needed here. But with that complete, he continues,] September 27th.

You can open them again.

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