{ic inbox}

[risorto]

text . video . voice . action
↺ ✉ ↻

Comments

[silvercrusader]

They're tiny, you gotta try at least one. Just once. For me.

[Besides, even those without a sweet tooth (which is fairly unimaginable, but whatever) probably enjoy it.]

Once I figure out how to make them. Or Holly takes pity on me and makes them for me after I try and they explode on me, whichever.

[risorto]

[Bruno raises an eyebrow.]

Not as confident in the kitchen as you are building a boat?

[silvercrusader]

If I fuck up on the boat, all I have to do is pull out the nail or whatever. Baking is still . . .

[He gestures vaguely above his head.]

You think you did everything right and then you put it in and suddenly it all goes to shit and Christ only knows why.

[risorto]

[Bruno huffs a short laugh.]

Baking is very precise...

[And with the exception of Silver Chariot, there's not too much about Polnareff's that particularly careful. Though it's not a criticism. If anything, Bruno's a little fond of it.]

[silvercrusader]

I was telling Fugo, right, and all of a sudden it's I won't eat your food until you learn to measure better and maybe it's awful and baking needs precise measurement, you can't just wing it, so does cooking--

[The nerve! The absolute insult of it all! Polnareff shakes his head, so disappointed. Kids these days.]

Anyway, some stuff turns out okay. I can do a chocolate cake like nobody's business.

[risorto]

[Bruno smiles a little wider at the mention of Fugo. He's not surprised. Honestly, when Bruno's cooking by himself, he tends to go more by taste rather than exact measurements of what's needed. But whenever Fugo helped — which was always frequently because in some ways, it was a thing for the two of them to do together since the others were far more invested in licking spoons and bowls than they ever were actually contributing to cooking — he'd pull out the measuring cups and spoons and keep everything exact.]

Just chocolate? Not just cake in general?

[silvercrusader]

I could probably do a vanilla cake just as well, but if you're going to eat cake, what's the point of it being the world's blandest flavor?

[A beat, and then he sits up on his elbows, eyes narrowed.]

Don't tell me that's your favorite flavor or something.

[risorto]

[Bruno gives him a bland look in return with a small shrug.]

What if it is?

[It's not. But what if?]

[silvercrusader]

[THE BIGGEST SIGH, as he flops back onto his bed with a bounce.]

For you, I'll let it slide. Only for you, though, so don't spread that around.

[Which isn't a flirtatious comment by any means, but it's certainly teasing. He's aware of that even as he says it. Too much teasing, he knows, and suddenly he will be flirting, that's just the way of it, and if he starts flirting it won't end well at all.]

[risorto]

[It's not that difficult for Bruno to maintain a straight face. So, he gives nothing as far as whether or not it's actually his favorite flavor.]

So I would be an exception?

[silvercrusader]

Special, you might call it.

[risorto]

[Bruno hums thoughtfully (special, huh?) and is quiet a moment. Then:]

Well, fortunately you won't have to make it because vanilla's not my favorite.

[silvercrusader]

Thank god.

[Is there a need for such an emphatic exclamation? Yes.]

So what is your favorite? And what was that, some kinda friendship test to see if I'd still stick around if you loved vanilla?

[risorto]

[Whether or not there's a need is debatable, but there's a flicker of a smile again.]

Red velvet, and of course it was a test. Besides swearing, food's how an Italian shows they care.

[silvercrusader]

[He's learning any number of things about Bruno tonight.]

So, what, I'm gonna find a cake outside my door with vaffanculo written in icing on top one of these days?

[That pronunciation is sure something else, man.]

[risorto]

[Bruno clicks his tongue just once as though actually disappointed.]

If I'm going to the trouble of making you a cake to tell you vaffanculo, I'd at least address it to you.

Vaffanculo, [he says, gesturing with one hand that it's the top line before moving it down for the second,] Faccia come il Culo.

[silvercrusader]

[Oh, wow, he wasn't even close with how to pronounce it. Fuckin Italian vowels, man, who even decided that was a decent way to mouth a word? But at least now he knows. As for the rest of that: Polnareff points an accusing finger at Bruno, eyes narrowed.]

I'm gonna go ahead and assume that's something like amazing boat partner or legendary builder or even that guy I knew in the future but now have gotten to know better now, what a great friend he is, truly my life would be less without him in it.

[risorto]

[Listen, Frenchie, at least they pronounce 99% of their letters. Bruno waves a hand.]

Oh, all of that at least. I wouldn't call anyone else that.

[silvercrusader]

Amazing. What a language Italian is, all that in one little phrase. I'm touched, I really am, Bruno. We've come so far in the month we've gotten to know each other. And you definitely wouldn't try and trick me just because you're learning my language and not vice-versa.

[risorto]

I wouldn't and I find any insinuation to the contrary offensive.

[silvercrusader]

Yeah, that's what I thought.

[So rude! But that mention of French reminds him-- and so, slowly and carefully in French:]

Did you study what I gave you, monsieur Bruno?

[risorto]

[Bruno can't understand the whole of what Polnareff's saying just yet (the vocabulary's not there), but he understands enough to respond in French:]

I studied some. [Bruno swats at Polnareff's leg again with a small smile, as he switches back to English,] But talk normally unless I ask you to slow down. I can't get fluent if you do that.

[silvercrusader]

Suit yourself!

[It's French, which is a rapid-fire language already. Add to the fact Polnareff himself tends to get overexcited and talk too quickly, and he's definitely not going to talk at full speed. But his tone and pace are far more normal as he says:]

I'm going to teach you food next. Not only because you're Italian, but because food is always easy to remember. Your favorites first: pasta, mussels, mushrooms. No sweets.

[risorto]

[There's enough of an overlap that Bruno can piece together the parts that he doesn't already know to make coherent sense of what Polnareff is saying to him in French. But with the closer-to-normal pace of speaking, Bruno's attention does dart quickly to Polnareff's mouth and then back again to track what he's saying.]

Pasta, mussels, mushrooms. No sweets, [he repeats back, a little slower than Polnareff said them.] What next?

[silvercrusader]

This would be easier in the kitchen . . .

[He says that mostly to himself, although props to Bruno if he follows that. A beat, and Polnareff reaches over, grabbing for a notebook and a pen. It's a notebook filled with doodles and old games of hangman and tic-tac-toe, for all those nights he and Jotaro can't sleep.

Flipping to a new page, he draws a series of crude but somewhat recognizable fruits: an apple, an orange, a banana, a lemon, a pineapple.]

Right. Right, okay, so that's-- apple, plural apples. Lemon, plural lemons . . .

He goes through each one, saying the singular and then the plural, letting Bruno hear the difference in articles between each one. At least Italian has the concept of grammatical gender; that won't be so strange to Bruno.]

Try and repeat some back.