[Bro, come on. They're not two glasses into wine, but they're friends now; that means you get interesting gossip. Polnareff leans back on his elbows as he regards Bruno with an expectant expression.]
Gossip's always interesting! Especially if you're gonna defend yourself as more romantically competent than your team.
[He really does mean that, too; he likes hearing gossip, because who doesn't? But it'd be a lie to say there's no ulterior motive as well-- ie, are there any male names in that list of previous paramours.]
I mean, you can say you were better at seventeen, Bruno, but I dunno if I believe it.
[Bruno rolls his eyes a little. There's two ways that he could go about this. The first way is that he could point out the flawed logic behind that argument and he could make up anything he wanted with no way to prove it true or false. The other is that he could not bother with debating it and just go ahead and tell Polnareff something. As he weighs his options, he eventually sighs.]
Alright, alright, I'll tell you one story, but that's all you're getting. You have your choice between... [Bruno draws a slow breath, his gaze moving up as he considers.] Renato, Alessandra, or Sofia.
[It's not surprising that's the name Polnareff chose as one of these things is very blatantly not like the others. But Bruno also suspects that it's generally uncharted territory for Polnareff.]
I actually met Renato during the tail-end of the summer before my fifteenth birthday. But he didn't want to talk to me then. His mother and father had just separated, and he was moving into the apartment next to mine with his mother. Since we were around the same age, I think she was hoping that he could make a friend before school started. She made him introduce himself to me, but after that we didn't speak.
We hardly saw each other anyway since my father was still in and out of the hospital a lot and I had business to take care of for Passione while Renato had school and over the summer, he went to be with his father in his village. He came back and we still didn't speak much until that winter when he ended up locked out. He'd left his key at the school and there was no way he could get there in time to get it back. So, he was stuck waiting until his mother got home from one of her jobs.
I offered to let him wait for her in my apartment, but he turned me down so I let him be. Then a few hours later, it started to pour. There was nothing for a few minutes. [Bruno huffs a small laugh.] But then his pride lost and that's when I had frantic knocking on my door. I'd barely opened it before Renato came barging in, already soaking wet. I let him borrow a change of clothes, but he was upset about his textbooks. His were all secondhand and a few of them were beyond salvaging, but there was no way in hell his mother could possibly afford to buy him new ones. I lied to him about having an older cousin and possibly getting him the books, he just had to be patient and avoid letting his mother find out.
It took me a few weeks to track them down, but I stole him new copies. I don't know if he actually believed me that they came from a cousin, but I don't think he cared. We spent a lot of time together after that. Sometimes he'd come over to my apartment, sometimes he'd drag me over to his. If his mother was working late enough that she wouldn't be back until the morning, he'd just stay all night and sneak back over before she got home.
By the time the summer came around again, he didn't really want to go back to his village to visit with his father. So, I kissed him and said I'd still be there when he got back. [Bruno shrugs a little.] We dated for a while after he got back, but I broke things off shortly before my father died.
[The pronouns Bruno uses aren't a complete surprise, but it's a good confirmation to have nonetheless. Polnareff notes that in the back of his mind-- but then he's caught up in the story. It's a cute one, and he's smiling throughout it-- he can barely imagine Bruno at age fifteen, but of course he was that kind, even then.]
See? That's the kind of story I'm talking about.
[Both his tone and his smile are a little softer than they might be with others.]
And you're right: way smoother than . . . [He waves a hand, indicating the general teenage population they both hang out with.] I take back my doubt.
[Bruno notices the softness in Polnareff's tone and smile. It seems despite being somewhat of a dog with the way he talks sometimes, deep down he's a little bit of a romantic, huh? Bruno smiles a little. It's good to know.]
I'll forgive you for doubting me this time, [Bruno teases with a small wave of a hand.] But what about you? You can't go around bragging about what a great boyfriend you would be with no follow-up.
[Bruno had given an example from when he was fifteen, right? That probably counts. Except fifteen feels so remote, and anyway, he'd been kind of an idiot at fifteen. So, instead:]
Annette. My only college girlfriend. We were taking the same stupid 101 course in . . . I don't even remember what, I think classic literature or something like that, something bookish, because I kept missing whatever stupid subtext I was supposed to pick up. Which I didn't care about, except you need a pretty decent GPA if you want to keep playing sports in university, and I did, I was on the fencing team and I wasn't about to give that up, so I looked around at who seemed smart and pretty and there she was.
So she started tutoring me. It wasn't hard, she just said shit like the butterflies really symbolize sex or whatever, it didn't take long, and then . . . [He shrugs, but it's with a little smile.] I started asking if she wanted to come over not just to tutor me. She was smart, you know? Real sharp, I liked just listening to her talk about whatever she was interested in. And she had a good sense of humor, so I could always get her to laugh. We'd do all the usual college shit, y'know, football games-- I took her to see Les Bleus kick Italy's ass one weekend when they came to play-- and ice cream and parties, shit like that--
[It'd been good, for a few months. Maybe not the stuff marriages are built on, but he'd liked seeing her, day after day. Polnareff stares at nothing for a few seconds, caught up in fond memory, before wrinkling his nose at Bruno.]
Anyway. You're not the only one who stopped dating around when his father died. I dropped out of school and came back home to take care of Sherry, and I'm gonna guess she went on to be a professor or something.
[The way Polnareff tells it, Bruno spots a noticeable and interesting difference that seems to settle much better with the romantic than it does with the horndog. It seems the relationship was still busy and loud — and that makes sense because Polnareff just doesn't seem like the type who could sit still for very long — but there's a certain amount of shyness there as well in the beginning with a constant undercurrent of selflessness, too. And it's plain to see that Polnareff was happy with her. He wouldn't have that look on his face otherwise. It's a good look, Bruno thinks to himself as he loosely folds his arms with a quiet smile.]
She sounds like she was really special to you.
[Bruno could have commented on Polnareff's decision to go back home and look after his sister, but he doesn't. Bruno doesn't think his opinion on the matter carries that much weight to begin with, but it's not as though it'd be a complete and utter unknown anyway. And Bruno could say something to the mention of his father's death, but he doesn't with that either. It's obvious from what little Polnareff has said of the ways in which death has touched his life that he keeps things like that a little closer to himself, and that's perfectly fine. It just means that Bruno's far less likely to nudge the subject let alone push.]
[So, instead Bruno tilts his head a little as he smiles a little more.]
[His smile refocuses. It's not sharper, exactly, but it's most definitely for Bruno instead of Annette. Polnareff falls back on the bed, one hand rising up to gesture towards the ceiling as he speaks. It's a ridiculously relaxed pose-- something he might adopt around Jotaro or Kakyoin-- and it doesn't occur to him that he's starting to put Bruno in the same category.]
High praise! I'd be okay-- don't flatter me more, Bruno, my heart can't take it. Is okay better or worse than the rest of your gang?
Actually managed, he says, like it's some big surprise . . .
[So rude.]
But right, good to know. Next time I try and pick somebody up, I'll add all that. Bruno Buccellati thinks I'd be okay and that I'm a step ahead of a bunch of sixteen year olds.
[God, but he loves making Bruno laugh. He loves it not only because it's not always easy, but because it comes from Polnareff simply being who he is-- teasing and joking the way he always does. It's always great to be able to make people laugh-- he's still reeling in triumph over getting Fugo to do it-- but there's an extra kick to it when it comes to Bruno.]
At least I'm never gonna sink so low that I give somebody a fish to confess my love.
[Bruno purses his lips to stifle his smile and another laugh. Of course, the truly sad part is that Bruno didn't know about the love confession fish prior to right now, but he knows enough that he doesn't need to ask for the specifics to figure it out. God help those children. They need an adult. Bruno lightly swats Polnareff's leg with the back of a hand.]
You ever do something even remotely like that and you're not allowed to use my name in testimonials like that anymore.
[Hah, he won, and so he settles down again, arms behind his head.]
You won't hurt me. You're my co-parent, and what's more, you're a nice person, you definitely won't unzip me.
[Which is just asking for it, really, and so, without missing a beat:]
And if you do now, I'm going to name our second child something really stupid, and then for the rest of the time you'll always have to say, Oh, Jean, do you want to go sailing on the FIS Seaduction?
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[Bro, come on. They're not two glasses into wine, but they're friends now; that means you get interesting gossip. Polnareff leans back on his elbows as he regards Bruno with an expectant expression.]
Come on, you can't just leave it at that.
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I wouldn't think it'd be all that interesting to hear. It was rarely ever anything serious, especially before I was made a team leader.
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[He really does mean that, too; he likes hearing gossip, because who doesn't? But it'd be a lie to say there's no ulterior motive as well-- ie, are there any male names in that list of previous paramours.]
I mean, you can say you were better at seventeen, Bruno, but I dunno if I believe it.
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Alright, alright, I'll tell you one story, but that's all you're getting. You have your choice between... [Bruno draws a slow breath, his gaze moving up as he considers.] Renato, Alessandra, or Sofia.
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[He says, as if it's a choice at all. But he waits a few seconds for appearance's sake, because he's not that helpless.]
Renato, I think, that sounds like a name with an interesting story.
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I actually met Renato during the tail-end of the summer before my fifteenth birthday. But he didn't want to talk to me then. His mother and father had just separated, and he was moving into the apartment next to mine with his mother. Since we were around the same age, I think she was hoping that he could make a friend before school started. She made him introduce himself to me, but after that we didn't speak.
We hardly saw each other anyway since my father was still in and out of the hospital a lot and I had business to take care of for Passione while Renato had school and over the summer, he went to be with his father in his village. He came back and we still didn't speak much until that winter when he ended up locked out. He'd left his key at the school and there was no way he could get there in time to get it back. So, he was stuck waiting until his mother got home from one of her jobs.
I offered to let him wait for her in my apartment, but he turned me down so I let him be. Then a few hours later, it started to pour. There was nothing for a few minutes. [Bruno huffs a small laugh.] But then his pride lost and that's when I had frantic knocking on my door. I'd barely opened it before Renato came barging in, already soaking wet. I let him borrow a change of clothes, but he was upset about his textbooks. His were all secondhand and a few of them were beyond salvaging, but there was no way in hell his mother could possibly afford to buy him new ones. I lied to him about having an older cousin and possibly getting him the books, he just had to be patient and avoid letting his mother find out.
It took me a few weeks to track them down, but I stole him new copies. I don't know if he actually believed me that they came from a cousin, but I don't think he cared. We spent a lot of time together after that. Sometimes he'd come over to my apartment, sometimes he'd drag me over to his. If his mother was working late enough that she wouldn't be back until the morning, he'd just stay all night and sneak back over before she got home.
By the time the summer came around again, he didn't really want to go back to his village to visit with his father. So, I kissed him and said I'd still be there when he got back. [Bruno shrugs a little.] We dated for a while after he got back, but I broke things off shortly before my father died.
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See? That's the kind of story I'm talking about.
[Both his tone and his smile are a little softer than they might be with others.]
And you're right: way smoother than . . . [He waves a hand, indicating the general teenage population they both hang out with.] I take back my doubt.
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I'll forgive you for doubting me this time, [Bruno teases with a small wave of a hand.] But what about you? You can't go around bragging about what a great boyfriend you would be with no follow-up.
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[Bruno had given an example from when he was fifteen, right? That probably counts. Except fifteen feels so remote, and anyway, he'd been kind of an idiot at fifteen. So, instead:]
Annette. My only college girlfriend. We were taking the same stupid 101 course in . . . I don't even remember what, I think classic literature or something like that, something bookish, because I kept missing whatever stupid subtext I was supposed to pick up. Which I didn't care about, except you need a pretty decent GPA if you want to keep playing sports in university, and I did, I was on the fencing team and I wasn't about to give that up, so I looked around at who seemed smart and pretty and there she was.
So she started tutoring me. It wasn't hard, she just said shit like the butterflies really symbolize sex or whatever, it didn't take long, and then . . . [He shrugs, but it's with a little smile.] I started asking if she wanted to come over not just to tutor me. She was smart, you know? Real sharp, I liked just listening to her talk about whatever she was interested in. And she had a good sense of humor, so I could always get her to laugh. We'd do all the usual college shit, y'know, football games-- I took her to see Les Bleus kick Italy's ass one weekend when they came to play-- and ice cream and parties, shit like that--
[It'd been good, for a few months. Maybe not the stuff marriages are built on, but he'd liked seeing her, day after day. Polnareff stares at nothing for a few seconds, caught up in fond memory, before wrinkling his nose at Bruno.]
Anyway. You're not the only one who stopped dating around when his father died. I dropped out of school and came back home to take care of Sherry, and I'm gonna guess she went on to be a professor or something.
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She sounds like she was really special to you.
[Bruno could have commented on Polnareff's decision to go back home and look after his sister, but he doesn't. Bruno doesn't think his opinion on the matter carries that much weight to begin with, but it's not as though it'd be a complete and utter unknown anyway. And Bruno could say something to the mention of his father's death, but he doesn't with that either. It's obvious from what little Polnareff has said of the ways in which death has touched his life that he keeps things like that a little closer to himself, and that's perfectly fine. It just means that Bruno's far less likely to nudge the subject let alone push.]
[So, instead Bruno tilts his head a little as he smiles a little more.]
You'd be okay for a boyfriend.
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[His smile refocuses. It's not sharper, exactly, but it's most definitely for Bruno instead of Annette. Polnareff falls back on the bed, one hand rising up to gesture towards the ceiling as he speaks. It's a ridiculously relaxed pose-- something he might adopt around Jotaro or Kakyoin-- and it doesn't occur to him that he's starting to put Bruno in the same category.]
High praise! I'd be okay-- don't flatter me more, Bruno, my heart can't take it. Is okay better or worse than the rest of your gang?
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Mm, well, you actually managed to get a girlfriend, didn't you? So, I'd say you're coming out ahead of them.
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[So rude.]
But right, good to know. Next time I try and pick somebody up, I'll add all that. Bruno Buccellati thinks I'd be okay and that I'm a step ahead of a bunch of sixteen year olds.
[God, but he loves making Bruno laugh. He loves it not only because it's not always easy, but because it comes from Polnareff simply being who he is-- teasing and joking the way he always does. It's always great to be able to make people laugh-- he's still reeling in triumph over getting Fugo to do it-- but there's an extra kick to it when it comes to Bruno.]
At least I'm never gonna sink so low that I give somebody a fish to confess my love.
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You ever do something even remotely like that and you're not allowed to use my name in testimonials like that anymore.
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[He squirms, shifting so he can return that swat with a light nudge of his foot.]
How'm I supposed to get with somebody if I can't use you as a reference!
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I don't know, Jean, but that doesn't sound like my problem.
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[Hah, he won, and so he settles down again, arms behind his head.]
You won't hurt me. You're my co-parent, and what's more, you're a nice person, you definitely won't unzip me.
[Which is just asking for it, really, and so, without missing a beat:]
And if you do now, I'm going to name our second child something really stupid, and then for the rest of the time you'll always have to say, Oh, Jean, do you want to go sailing on the FIS Seaduction?
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I could just zip your mouth shut instead.
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[He rises up to his elbows, leveling Bruno with a particularly incredulous stare.]
You'd do that to yourself?
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[The stare melts into something heartfelt. Imploring. Desperate. Don't do this to your new bro, Bruno.]
You know how I feel about zippers.
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I'll never stop whining about it afterwards.
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Assassins, Jean.
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[Actually--]
'S how I won you over, too. Is that an Italian thing or a mafia thing?
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