[Isn't that a rambling conversation? Polnareff's smile fades a little, his expression stilling as he listens. His fingers drift against Bruno's skin, tracing the hollow of his throat.
There's a lot he could say to that, because there's a lot of information packed into those few sentences. He could try and ask after that dark prediction. No one would know how to find his body, Bruno says sleepily, so easily that it's a statement, not a brag. It's easy to forget just how deadly his boyfriend is, and maybe Polnareff ought to try and pursue that line of thought. How many people have you killed with Sticky Fingers, he could ask, and he already knows that Bruno will be able to rattle off a fixed number.
He could ask, too, about his childhood: about using Sticky Fingers for the first time, how he'd explored all the potential his Stand had. Was it a wondrous moment or a mundane one? Had he thought he was magic, as Polnareff had, or cast his Stand in a darker light?
Or perhaps neither. Perhaps he'd simply accepted it and moved on. Just for missions, Bruno says, and Polnareff can't imagine ever thinking of Chariot in such cold, concrete terms. His Stand is so much more than a tool to be used, regulated to certain times and places. God, Chariot used to be there constantly, an invisible comfort that he'd never gone without. Even now, Chariot comes out far more than Sticky Fingers ever does.
He could ask after a lot of things. But what Polnareff says, quietly and with a smile, is:]
no subject
There's a lot he could say to that, because there's a lot of information packed into those few sentences. He could try and ask after that dark prediction. No one would know how to find his body, Bruno says sleepily, so easily that it's a statement, not a brag. It's easy to forget just how deadly his boyfriend is, and maybe Polnareff ought to try and pursue that line of thought. How many people have you killed with Sticky Fingers, he could ask, and he already knows that Bruno will be able to rattle off a fixed number.
He could ask, too, about his childhood: about using Sticky Fingers for the first time, how he'd explored all the potential his Stand had. Was it a wondrous moment or a mundane one? Had he thought he was magic, as Polnareff had, or cast his Stand in a darker light?
Or perhaps neither. Perhaps he'd simply accepted it and moved on. Just for missions, Bruno says, and Polnareff can't imagine ever thinking of Chariot in such cold, concrete terms. His Stand is so much more than a tool to be used, regulated to certain times and places. God, Chariot used to be there constantly, an invisible comfort that he'd never gone without. Even now, Chariot comes out far more than Sticky Fingers ever does.
He could ask after a lot of things. But what Polnareff says, quietly and with a smile, is:]
Of course he is. He's ours, isn't he?
[A beat, and then:]
Our son.