[Part of her desire to do right by him is to...give him a reason to want anything for her at all. It's a part of her that simply can't accept that she alone could be important to anyone. The one person who cared for her unconditionally is dead and gone.
More than that, it's what this is all about, isn't it? Who were they as people outside of that week? Are they capable of being friends without that linchpin? She wants them to be. They never would have met without that week though, so tossing it out entirely is not possible. And she shouldn't. It wasn't the full picture, but it showed them at their lowest and ostensibly highest points. They were all good people when it counted, she thinks. That's why the trust has persisted here.
Orange is...a color always associated with day. Sunrise and sunset. Orange was Donatella Una's favorite color too.
As for what he says, she wonders. Maya told her that Giorno said she could sing, but it's entirely reasonable to assume the dreamworld – a place that could create fake lives and relationships – had shown him something like that. It's admittedly another thing that makes her worry about the degree of separation. That he liked the girl from there so much that the girl in front of him could only disappoint. It wouldn't be the first time she didn't meet expectations.
But she doesn't say any of that, because any words she'd had catch in her throat at his expression. It's weird, isn't it? How someone who holds the microcosm of Italy in the palm of his hand could look at her like that. It's never not going to be weird.
Helplessly, she crosses her arms. It's not done abruptly, nor with hunched shoulders, but still. Listen: if you don't keep up at least one defense, Giorno Giovanna will walk right in, and then it's over for you. The look on her face can only be described as some blend of pleasantly bemused and "really?".]
That's not what I meant, exactly. But if I were to delegate, I'd say...only share what you feel. There's such a thing as too much at once, and that goes for both of us. So do what feels right, and I'll do the same.
[She lifts her chin.]
That's all I can ask for right now. I won't beg for any more than you're willing to give me.
[And...]
You know well enough already I'll nip your heels if you overstep.
[Which...hopefully he understands that he can and should stop her when she gets to be too much. They're both a lot, aren't they?
This is hard. Words are hard. She drums her fingers in the crook of one arm.]
What I'm really trying to say is...well, let's not worry about it anymore. Not today. Tomorrow we can start over like we promised, and I won't be running on two hours of sleep.
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More than that, it's what this is all about, isn't it? Who were they as people outside of that week? Are they capable of being friends without that linchpin? She wants them to be. They never would have met without that week though, so tossing it out entirely is not possible. And she shouldn't. It wasn't the full picture, but it showed them at their lowest and ostensibly highest points. They were all good people when it counted, she thinks. That's why the trust has persisted here.
Orange is...a color always associated with day. Sunrise and sunset. Orange was Donatella Una's favorite color too.
As for what he says, she wonders. Maya told her that Giorno said she could sing, but it's entirely reasonable to assume the dreamworld – a place that could create fake lives and relationships – had shown him something like that. It's admittedly another thing that makes her worry about the degree of separation. That he liked the girl from there so much that the girl in front of him could only disappoint. It wouldn't be the first time she didn't meet expectations.
But she doesn't say any of that, because any words she'd had catch in her throat at his expression. It's weird, isn't it? How someone who holds the microcosm of Italy in the palm of his hand could look at her like that. It's never not going to be weird.
Helplessly, she crosses her arms. It's not done abruptly, nor with hunched shoulders, but still. Listen: if you don't keep up at least one defense, Giorno Giovanna will walk right in, and then it's over for you. The look on her face can only be described as some blend of pleasantly bemused and "really?".]
That's not what I meant, exactly. But if I were to delegate, I'd say...only share what you feel. There's such a thing as too much at once, and that goes for both of us. So do what feels right, and I'll do the same.
[She lifts her chin.]
That's all I can ask for right now. I won't beg for any more than you're willing to give me.
[And...]
You know well enough already I'll nip your heels if you overstep.
[Which...hopefully he understands that he can and should stop her when she gets to be too much. They're both a lot, aren't they?
This is hard. Words are hard. She drums her fingers in the crook of one arm.]
What I'm really trying to say is...well, let's not worry about it anymore. Not today. Tomorrow we can start over like we promised, and I won't be running on two hours of sleep.
[Punctuated, inelegantly, by a yawn.]