*** HARMONIA has joined 710.35.155.17 <HARMONIA> Buongiorno, sorry I missed you. <HARMONIA> I'll happily get back to you as soon as I'm done with whatever business I'm on. <HARMONIA> Please leave a message.
[It is, to be clear, a mess. However, given that Giorno is now officially a plant, he doesn't care about the dirt, and the nonzero number of preteens in Hill House also means this is not the first foyer disaster he's seen in the months he's been here. That's what stone floors are for. He's unfazed.]
[By that part, anyway. The sight of Steve in his socks in the entrance to the effusive main floor is ridiculous enough that he's having to make a concerted effort to keep a straight face. This becomes a lot more difficult when Steve just . . . keeps talking.]
[He lifts his hand up to cover his mouth, fingers crooked over his lips as though he's in very deep thought about something that isn't stifling his own laughter. Not even at anything in particular, just the absurdity of the whole situation, and the bluntness, and it's awkward and stupid, and he just—]
[He's not laughing. He absolutely isn't. He sets his shoulders back, clears his throat, and does something . . . frankly remarkable.]
That depends. Do you mind staying a while, or were you hoping to hand it over and then flee?
[ While Giorno has his whole thought process, Steve spends a moment taking everything other than him in with unmasked judgment: the warps in the walls that truly serve no purpose besides making him wonder if he's drunk, the bubbles of multi-colored glass that are probably the most agreeable part of it all, and the walkways that look like paths through a garden mostly because that's legitimately what they are.
When he pries his eyes from their frankly cartoonish surroundings to look back at his host, his tone is gently ribbing. ]
You know, I have pretty good hearing.
[ Not to say that Giorno's careful maneuver let any laughter slip through, but the image of him with a hand placed over his mouth just so invites suspicion. Maybe once upon a time that isn't this one, he wasn't so successful. Steve carries on to give the place one more quick look-see, and his opinion hasn't changed: ]
Honestly, this room is so weird, I think I need to see the rest.
[Hm. He presses his lips together, not-smiling.] Good for you. I'm pretty good at keeping quiet.
[Which isn't the point. Steve knows what he's up to because he has cheat codes. It should be more annoying than it is, which is maybe five percent. He does wonder why this doesn't feel as threatening as it did with Riley, given that they have the same information. Maybe it's the deliberate way Steve has been proceeding, or the fact that here there's less to lose, or the tension of his and Riley's too-alikeness.]
[Maybe it's because he's got cheat codes, too. Either way, it's obvious this is the answer he wanted to hear, because he does allow himself to smile after all.]
Then later is fine. Come on.
[No points for guessing where he's taking them: it's the garden, because of course there is one. It's not far from the front entrance in the grand scheme of how big Hill House is overall, and as they pass other doors and halls it becomes clear the place resembles an expansive, well-lit warren more than anything else. The path from the front door transitions smoothly to the garden, vegetation cropping up on either side until suddenly the path is replaced by cobblestones and everything is green. Daylight creeps in through what look like bubbles in the ceiling. The moment they cross the barely-perceptible threshold, Giorno's smile widens, and he hums, seeming instantly more relaxed.]
[There's a short, bushy tree in one corner, which also contains a messy patch of vibrantly-colored plants. He makes a beeline for it and, eschewing the perfectly reasonable adjacent stone bench, just sits down cross-legged in the roots of the tree.]
[ From down there, Giorno will have an excellent vantage of Steve looking one-hundred percent unsure of what it is he should be doing next. This goes against a script he's very used to. Then again, every other time he's been a visitor in someone else's home, they've always had a couch and a coffee table and a refrigerator five feet away they could offer him a bottle of coke from. ]
Another nymph told me that looking at flowers is a lot like looking at baby animals.
[ By that logic, that might make what Giorno's doing with this shrub the equivalent of cuddling up next to the family dog. He can confirm or deny that statement if he wants, but he definitely looks like he's just gotten the same dose of happiness people get when they play with the new litters at Poundmates. ]
I think most people wish they could have a room full of baby animals.
[ After checking his wristwatch, Steve also ignores the bench in favor of the old saying monkey see, monkey do. Though, it probably would have benefited him to at least brace against it while taking off his socks and rolling up his jeans, instead of hopping from foot to foot and performing one whole balancing act. Then, he picks a warm patch of sunlit grass to step into, off of the comparatively cold cobbles, and... sits?
[It would have been perfectly feasible for Giorno to go the couch and coffee table route. That choice is open to him at any time. It just isn't one he's ever taken, even before his extreme plantification. There's a connection to be made between this fact and the momentary bemusement clear across his face at the idea that—]
Oh. Is that a nymph thing? It's not really . . . new, for me.
[Is that unusual? This part of it hasn't changed. If he'd had access to something like this garden at home, he'd have spent time there every day. There's a safety, a homeyness in it that feels like a part of him. He brought Riley here out of a sense of joy and a desire to share; there's some of that with Steve, too, but his sense of being wrong-footed is part of it, too. If he sits with this tree he helped to grow, roots touching dirt, he doesn't worry as much about things.]
[The setting doesn't quite manage to squelch the feeling of hurt, not really his, at Steve's glance at his watch. That shows, too, quick but not quick enough, and as he chases it off of his face and out of his mind he reminds himself he has nothing to worry about.]
[Then Steve hops around fighting his socks for a bit, which helps. As he finally sits, Giorno cocks his head, observing maybe a bit too closely.]
We do have baby animals. One or the other of them should be along shortly. [Shoulders pressed back against the trunk of the tree, he hums before abruptly shifting gears.] I can't tell if you're uncomfortable or just confused. I can tell some things more easily now, but not that. It's strange. But I don't want you to be uncomfortable.
[This is . . . one of those things. Something Haruno would have expressed, but not so clumsily, not in the same slightly-off way, like someone practicing casual conversation and hitting the edge of the target instead of the bullseye.]
[ He's a little more careful not to jam his hand into anything that's trying to grow, both of them falling backwards to prop him up at a slight recline. Ditto, when he stretches his legs out in front of him. Just as he's gotten cozy, his head tilts like his neck has a loose screw.
Haruno had some eccentricities, so it stands to reason that Giorno would have them, too. Kind of a surprise, though, that the one with the better sense of style is so far turning out to be the more awkward of the two. ]
Oh. [ Yet, it doesn't matter how unusually stated it is, Giorno's just said something that makes Steve feel the need to run his mouth. Realization overtaking his expression, he points to his watch. ] Oh, I don't have anywhere else to be. That was for, uh— For an hour-ish every day, I can change my body back to the way it was before, almost.
[ Isn't it interesting that his floppy ears are the only inhuman thing about him at the moment? When he's definitely been here for months, and months, and months since he first "ran" into Giorno during Nattensfest? ]
I'm about to go all rabbit-y again in a minute here, so that made it easy to decide whether I should ditch the socks, and then that made it easy to decide if I should try walking on the grass, too.
[ Which brings him to his last point— ]
I don't know what rules you've got around here. Yeah, I could've just asked, but I also didn't want to be super formal? That's what you do for people's parents, not—
[ He gestures at his host, who's even younger than he is—if that wasn't another detail that got fudged up when they were brainwashed. Anyway, there Giorno has it, Steve's entire thought process helpfully if haphazardly laid out. He doesn't want him to be uncomfortable, either. ]
[The benefit to Steve of Giorno's particular brand of awkwardness is that, at least this time, he doesn't seem to register that his guest is babbling. Rather, he pays careful attention to everything Steve says with the air of someone prepared at any moment to take notes. There's a flicker of embarrassment at the clarification about the time check — was he really that obvious? — but more than anything, his expression just reflects growing clarity.]
[How many pairs of socks has Steve ruined before coming to understand how to track his timing properly? A question to ask later. He absently registers the note about formality, too. That's right, that was a difference in the other place, too: even though Haruno was much more comfortable with people than he is, there was still a gulf in the way they dealt with people. Formality versus familiarity. Steffan just . . . became friends with people sometimes simply by deciding to. That's what he tried with Haruno, and it halfway worked, despite him choosing such a cagey mark.]
[This all reminds him of something. Is it important? . . . Probably. He doesn't want to be misunderstood. It matters, even if he's not certain why yet.]
Thank you. For being thoughtful about all of that, and for explaining. I don't . . . really know of any rules that would be relevant anyway. More than anything, I think . . .
[Hm. He tucks a wisp of hair behind his ear, eyes raising to the ceiling as he thinks.]
Riley told me I can be . . . cryptic. That's the word she used. I didn't know before she told me, but I've tried to be more careful since then. Still, if that happens and you wouldn't mind telling me when it does, I'd appreciate it. It upset her, and I don't want to upset you.
[It's incredibly blunt, almost childlike in the way he expresses how difficult it is for him to talk to people in a neutral way. He wonders how this conversation would have gone if he hadn't spoken to Riley first. It probably wouldn't have gone at all. He's riding a strange wave of serenity, or perhaps simple overstimulation, at the way Riley took the truth of him and held it like any other secret revealed. That makes this so much easier.]
[At least for him. His wide green gaze descends upon Steve again.]
You were kind to me in that other place, and I know it's the same here because of Riley. I can't say for sure, since I don't know much about you, but you seem very . . . normal? I can't think of a better word. But I'd like to know you, if I can find a way to be a little more . . .
[Normal? Comprehensible? Haruno?]
. . . communicative.
[At the very least he's currently leaning heavily on that, even if normal is taking a backseat.]
[ Only half the great listener that wisteria-boy is, Steve tries his best to keep up.
...This is like that thing people say about coming home and finding all of the furniture slightly rearranged, but a person. It's clearly going to take stubbing his toe on the dresser he's not used to being so close to the doorway a few times before he gets a sense of where everything is again. Not that Giorno is his person the way his home is his home, or anything like that.
He sighs gently, and then follows it up with an airy little laugh like the guy's just told him something funny. It is funny, that being someone whose routine was mostly rolling out of bed to go scoop rocky road for children every morning makes him remarkable, right after he spent his last few months in Hawkins feeling pretty not that. Not haha funny, but funny. ]
Listen, I know. And I know that makes me the odd man out around here.
[ Lila is intense, untrusting in way that has him seriously thinking whatever problems she's had to face in her life are much worse than a bad date, or detention, or getting grounded by her parents. He's pretty sure whatever crazy alternate past Cersei comes from holds public executions daily. Komaeda and his classmates seem normal, but sometimes there's some odd phrasing or a comment that slips out that makes him frankly afraid to ask the truth. It's Riley who's actually in the lead for the most normal person he's met, but her home life just wasn't great. Everybody's been through so much shit. ]
Another friend of mine grew up on a planet that sounds a lot like that movie with a bunch of crazy people wearing garbage and like, driving cars through a desert? I think there's been two of them, actually? [ He is, for the record, talking about Mad Max. ] Anyway, her social skills are kinda clunky, so I invite her along whenever I'm up to something she might like.
[ His eyebrows take on a concerned bend. ]
Is that something that would help you? Is that something you'd want?
[Briefly stymied by the movie reference, which is frankly one of his dump stats, he squints at Steve in confusion for a few moments, falling behind the flow of the conversation. It sounds like an art film. He doesn't remember anything like that, although he's also struggling to pull forth any movies in particular that even take place in a desert. He's about to ask, even, when he realizes exactly what it is he almost missed, and his eyes open wide again.]
[It's not that he thinks it's a trick. He really doesn't. He couldn't explain why, not logically, because he knows that Steve and Steffan are not the same, and by the end Haruno's trust in Steffan was a complicated thing anyway. The combination of that and his own natural distrust of others should combine to create a healthy uncertainty about this offer.]
[Somehow, though, it just doesn't. He can't look at Steve right now and see what he's saying as anything other than painfully genuine. This is just . . . something that someone like Steve, a very normal person, is offering to him, someone whose social skills are, yes, "kinda clunky". That's pretty accurate. And he's just willing to do that. And Giorno can't find anything within himself that questions it.]
[Why is that? There has to be a reason. It isn't just Riley's trust in Steve, it isn't just Haruno's experiences. There's something else. He just can't put his finger on what. At the same time, he can't do the polite thing (the deflecting thing) where he double-checks to make sure, to try to find a hole in the answer, to wiggle out of it. He can't, he won't, he doesn't want to. In fact, he feels a little mutinous in response to even the thought.]
[Instead of all of that—]
Yes.
[Yes, it's something that would help. Yes, it's something he wants. As he says it, he realizes that he wants that a lot. It's not something he's . . . ever had, really.]
I don't know if it's something I can provide in exchange. I don't do much other than work. [And be outside, but not in a purposeful way, just sort of. Outside. Still.] But if that's all right, then yes. [A crooked, toothy sort of smile appears, then. He doesn't take responsibility for it.] Do you get up to things I might like?
[ Steve suddenly makes a noise that sounds like "da." In Russian that would be yes, but here it's the sound of him starting to talk only to immediately put on the verbal brakes. He takes a moment to size up the grinning nymph in front of him, a long one.
All signs point to Steve not having thought things through this far.
Haruno at his most default state wasn't a sports fan. Whether that carried over, it's too early to say, but if he was the same insect nerd that Giorno is... and Steffan was really into basketball, then it may be safe to say that their basic interests stayed pretty much intact. And now that they're not... dating... said basic interests could very well be back to square one incongruent. ]
Have you ever heard of Nai'a Nights?
[ ...is what he ultimately chooses to lead with. The waitresses are cute, Maya lets him order off the cocktail menu when girls named Riley don't call ahead to get his privileges revoked, and the food's not bad, either. ]
I hang out there sometimes. It's- [ Hold on. ] Actually, better question, do you drink?
[ Riley's also taught him that this is an important factor to consider before assuming how much someone will enjoy something. ]
[Thank god for Riley, because without her this whole interaction would be a nonstarter. Never mind her criminal behavior in not letting Steve drink at will. Even Riley has her limits. Hilariously, she's never tattled on Giorno, although whether that's because bossiness duties for sisters are higher than for friends or because she's got no illusions that she'd actually be able to stop him is up for debate.]
[Regardless, the point is: this is a win for Steve, because Giorno lights up immediately. He even goes so far as to straighten up from his trunk-lounge.]
Mmhm, I like it there. Maya made a chocolate thing in February, I was there for most of the month. It—
[Wait, hold on, back up. Navigating back to the part where Steve was still talking when he stopped listening. Does he drink? After leaving his mouth open for a moment, he snaps it closed and nods.]
Yes. [Haruno did, too, but only with some persuasion. Which is a good point, actually. He presses his soles together and flattens his legs out until the sides of his knees touch the grass, butterfly-pose.] More than — you know. Overall, it would be fair for you to assume that I'm less concerned about following rules.
[Which. Is a thing, since Haruno wasn't very concerned about that at all. He considers bringing up the thing Riley said — that Haruno was sweet, and the issue he took with that — but after a brief moment of crawling mortification, decides not to bring it up.]
[ Oh, thank god. Riley and Giorno are close friends, but he's not dealing with Riley Williams, second edition. He would only say this in private, in company that he trusts not to love her any less for it, but she can really be the anti-buzz sometimes. ]
That's perfect.
[ Steve claps his hands together, then points at Giorno with both of them. It's a lot of enthusiasm for a serene garden setting, but this is all he knows how to be. ]
Hello, new drinking buddy!
[ This is good, a starting point. There's still the matter of figuring out literally anywhere else that's up both their alleys besides an already well-known and beloved hangout for monsters, but he can workshop that as he goes.
For now? Crisis averted.
He doesn't react to his legs beginning to—put lightly—wig out from the ankle down. Flesh squishes and stretches like taffy, and brown fur sprouts over plain pink skin like a time lapse of grass growing. In seconds, Steve is back to having dumb teeth, bulky claws, and a pair of giant rabbit kickers, the entire process apparently painless.
Ultimately, he only notices because his hands are still in front of him, holding that same pointing pose. He gives his fingers a wriggle. ] Ah, told you.
[Every friend group needs a buzzkill. Theoretically. In this group, forming around Steve as the nucleus, Riley fills that role. Ideally she'll keep them from getting killed via their own stupidity too often. Big shoes to fill.]
[Solemnly, with the air of speaking a foreign language with great precision, Giorno responds to Steve with a single fingergun and a weirdly good imitation of a gunshot sound. Pew, pew. It's always difficult to tell in these sorts of situations whether he's knowingly dunking on himself or just being oblivious, but he is finding meeting Steve where he's at with deadpan solemnity to be pretty fun. Even when he's quickly interrupted by body horror.]
[Leaning forward, he watches the unfootening with interest, apparently unbothered by the visuals. Steve doesn't start screaming, so he's probably got nothing to worry about.] You can really do that every day? That's fascinating. Can you only change back to how you looked before, or can you do other things?
[Above him, in the bushy branches of the small tree, something has been awakened by either the body horror, the pew pews, or the conversation as a whole. Out of nowhere, a blob of black fur dead-drops onto Giorno's shoulder, knocking the breath out of him in an oof, although he doesn't seem all that concerned, given that he doesn't even look up. The thing fixes Steve with a stare. Its face is a solid two-thirds eyes. Debatably, this is a cat.]
I haven't met a single person who's gotten away without their feet going weird. At least it doesn't hurt doing it this way — right? [It would be pretty ridiculous to keep doing it otherwise. He can't imagine Riley permitting it.]
[ Oh, he'd gladly gossip about his shapeshifting, and how he's been using it to concoct what he believes will be the ultimate party trick. But when some kind of unidentifiable creature shows up out of nowhere, that kind of takes precedence.
Steve's fuzzy feet clench, his legs scrunching back toward his body, which looks like a fear response—and it is—but it's also half of a built-in reflex to kick the the source of his fright into the stratosphere. That he doesn't has nothing to do with trying to be a good houseguest. His bigger concern in the moment is that it's right next to Giorno's head, and missing could be a pretty catastrophic.
His mouth chews on itself, muddling the curse word that nonetheless slips through his lips. ]
Iiiii- I'll answer all of that in just a minute, just—what in the world is that?
[ Though, since Giorno's reaction is telling him that this a normal, okay thing that's just happened, he'll force himself to be adventurous. Once he gets over his surprise, he'll hold a finger out toward the mystery thing and hope for the best. What is the best? Keeping said finger is the ideal, but he'll take anything positive in addition to that. ]
[The only reason Giorno even notices that Steve is concerned is the foot scrunching, a gesture expansive enough to grab his attention, especially when his attention is on said feet anyway. He doesn't quite catch on to the inherent danger in it, though, glancing up at Steve's expression with an expression almost as owlish as the void's.]
. . . A cat?
[His tone suggests that he thinks this might be a trick question. Steve looks extremely alarmed. Hasn't he ever seen a cat before? This is cat behavior. Totally normal.]
[The creature extends a paw toward Steve's finger of peace. However, what occurs next isn't a gentle bap. It rests its paw against the extended claw, then digs its own claws very slightly into the pads. Not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to make a point. Then it retracts its appendages and oozes down off of Giorno's shoulder to inspect the new person at a closer distance. Sniff.]
His name is Alder. He's from the bugs. I stole him. [A remarkably frank admission. He's previously framed his ownership of this cat as humanitarian, because obviously harm would come to him if Giorno hadn't taken him, but he doesn't really believe that. He was just desperate to take care of something.]
[In any case, that probably explains at least some of Alder's poor manners. Any other issues are explainable by the fact that he is a cat.]
He's familiar with this sensation. The barest hint of warm beans, little bastard claws... Nefarious, but not the gremlin hand he could've sworn was going to extend from this dark shape in his haste. Steve blinks a number of times.
It's-
To quote, "...a cat?" ]
I've been on this peninsula for too long, man. I... thought I saw something else.
[ As he watches the completely normal cat wander toward him, his ears stiffen up, just about pressing against each other atop his head. Typically, he ties them together and stuffs them down the back of his collar while on the clock, but now that a cat's appeared on much shorter notice... he'll just have to focus on keeping them still. No letting them dangle, and no sudden movements that may attract claws. ]
Just like Maple, huh.
[ Alder's much closer to how he'd expect an animal to look after being inside of a giant bug nest—like he's seen things. ]
[Something else, Steve says, and Giorno raises an eyebrow but otherwise doesn't question him. Maybe that's due to a different in life experience, though. After all, even back home, if a cat suddenly turned out to be a Stand and attacked him he wouldn't be that surprised. Steve's confusion is weird, but he's had his own moments of "surely that innocuous thing is about to murder me in cold blood". Like, last week probably. And cats are malevolent beings anyway. It's fine.]
Mm. Riley told me . . . she named him after the tree, so I did the same.
[Alder is, of course, bigger than Maple, with longer fur and a greater glint of madness in his eye. They look fairly similar otherwise, but it's hard to know with cats. So Giorno hums.]
They could very well be. Apparently the bugs have a small colony that they care for. I was worried about it at first, but they seem to genuinely do a good job providing for them, even though they're so bad at figuring out what humans are supposed to eat. [Priorities in order, he guesses.] Honestly, there's no way to know if he and Maple are from the same litter, so I've just decided that they are because it's nice to think about it that way. They get along well when I bring him by.
[Despite their massive difference in temperament, they have some things in common. For example, the way Alder zeroes in on Steve's ears moving, his eyes becoming black pools of devilment. He's quickly distracted by the noise, though, and stomps closer, sniffing the air, until he puts his paw on Steve's knee unceremoniously. Attend to him.]
[Giorno just regards this interaction fondly for a moment before adding,] The bad manners are probably my fault. I'm accidentally inducting him into a life of crime. It's up to you to be a good influence.
[ At Alder's insistent paw placement, Steve's legs slowly unfurl, making his lap accessible again. In his experience, every fuzzball has a different tolerance when it comes to handsy humans, so he'll let this one snoop around for a bit on his own terms before he goes for any scritches.
At least the fact that he hasn't been to the shelter today means he only smells like one human-shaped rabbit, as opposed to a million other unfamiliar cats and dogs. ]
Me? Ho-ho-kay, maybe she also told you I work with animals, but just between us... I've never had any pets before. I took the job because anything was better than pizza delivery.
[ Including litter box duty, because some people are shittier than actual... yup! ]
Doesn't mean I won't try, but... no promises, zero promises.
[This seems to stymie Giorno, certainly enough to give Alder an opportunity to sniff at Steve again before stomping his tiny little dagger feet into his lap. This one's fine. This one's acceptable. While the cat is busy staring at Steve from very close up, trying to intimidate him into pets, Giorno folds himself up into deep thought.]
I didn't actually know you did. Work with animals, I mean. I just assumed you would be good with animals, since you're good with people, and animals are much easier.
[Was that an incorrect assumption? He doesn't think so, not considering how unmauled Steve is at the moment, not to mention good-natured after the initial tension. Historically, assuming things has gone poorly with Riley, but Riley and Steve also aren't at all the same person. That's the problem. Guidelines often aren't much help when it comes to people.]
[Caught up in his own Gordian knot, he almost misses the obvious: he's still trying to find a catch. When everything goes fine, the skin on the back of his neck prickles. He tries to find a problem, something he's doing wrong or something that doesn't add up. But if he keeps doing that—]
[He's wanted to talk to Steve more this whole time. Steve is funny. It's hard to forget someone who introduces himself like that. But the closest he's gotten to functional interaction has come about because of something completely out of his control, and he's still paranoid enough to accidentally sabotage it. Maybe he just needs to stop thinking.]
[All right, then. Fine.] What I mean is, thank you. For reaching out in the first place, because I probably wouldn't have, and that isn't really what I want. Wanted — want. Whatever.
[He doesn't know how to explain it. How the fact that they seem capable of understanding each other feels like a minor miracle to him, considering how distant he's certain their experiences are from each other. But he knows how to say thank you to people who have skills he simply doesn't. In this, at least from his perspective, Steve has been significantly braver.]
[ The very unserious expression leftover from his (somewhat) joking dig at himself rubberbands into the opposite of that. Not as in grim, but reigned in, reasonable, his smile suddenly almost demure while his eyes drift down to what would've been the grass were Alder's all-seeing gaze not there to meet them. Steve gives up, plopping his hand between his ears and stroking him from head to haunch.
Let's see if Giorno still thinks he's good with animals in a second, depending on how Alder reacts. ]
Nice of you to say all that.
[ Giorno doesn't know he used to be just as much of an idiot as Steffan when it came to being good with people, as he puts it. Now, at least, he must be doing something right to be receiving so much praise out of nowhere.
And speaking of reaching out, there's a reason he came here, and it wasn't to sit under skylights in gardens or pet wall-eyed cats, though he doesn't mind the distraction. He fishes around his jacket, which he's still wearing in April. It's a nice jacket, so sue him. ]
Here, I probably shouldn't keep holding this thing hostage.
[ The box he pulls out is flat, white, and a little too oblong for the pouch Giorno's already seen in trash quality. Not because that's not what's in there, but because Steve had some stuff leftover after packing up Riley's gift; the tissue paper inside happens to be orange for that reason. Tossing it all together only took a second, and added an extra layer of protection between it and any accidental tumbles into the mud it could have taken while he was biking over. ]
It's a, uhhhh- [ This continues for a hot second. ] A stag beetle? That kind.
[Two things happen at once: Alder closes his eyes in peaceable feline acceptance of Steve's devotion, and Giorno smiles. It's . . . pretty funny, actually. Shy is a new expression from Steve, but not a bad one. People are so funny about praise. Things that seem like simple fact to him end up being a little more than most are willing to say out loud.]
[Still, it's true. He doesn't regret saying it. He jots down a few mental notes for later. This is a subject he can and will come back to. For now—]
Ooh.
[His eyes light up as he takes the box perhaps a little too quickly, eagerness palpable as he paws it open. A snort at the orange paper, and then he's torn his way into it like an absolute monster and is holding the pouch as though it's the most precious, valuable artifact in all of human history and also simultaneously his own infant child. He would die for this coin pouch.]
[And also maybe for Steve a little, if the near-fanatical gleam in his eye at the correct identification is anything to go by.] Mmhm! I need to check the book Riley gave me to make sure all the details are the same as ordinary stag beetles, from home I mean, but I'm pretty sure they're the same here. Did you know they wrestle each other? One will lift the other over his head and just throw him.
[You know, he wasn't sure he'd get the same satisfaction he usually does from watching somebody unwrap a gift he's just handed over. Again, he's already shown Giorno what it is, and that's not even getting into the extremely bizarre technicalities that make it so he can't even take full responsibility for picking it out. But, as Giorno absolutely decimates the box to get at the contents faster, he realizes he's still pretty happy about the end result of it all.
Steve takes one of the tissue paper scraps that flies in his direction and crinkles it a few times for Alder before dropping it on top of his paws.]
The lady selling them clued me into some stuff.
[Wouldn't stop talking about them the whole time he was checking out, in fact. Giorno would probably like her.]
She didn't mention that specifically though, which is kinda funny. Close quarters bug combat seems like what you'd wanna open with. [...] Like so.
[He snorts.]
Guess she thought I already knew the basics, since it was the only thing I was buying.
[His interest is piqued. He’s going to have to go talk to that lady. Maybe become her best friend. This seems like destiny, and also a good reason to purchase more bug-themed items. But then, that’s something for another day. Right now he’s just . . . happy. It’s a very simple and uncomplicated emotion that he doesn’t feel very often, even with the added extras tangled up in the background of this whole interaction. Those barely matter. He’s able to stand apart from them and enjoy the moment on his own terms.]
[He hugs the beetle to his chest and watches, with a smile that lives mostly in his eyes, as Alder immediately snaps up the tissue paper and then looks extremely consternated by the taste of tissue paper stuck to his tongue. Mleh.]
Thank you, Steve. [Which isn’t enough, really. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to go into all of the rest of it out of nowhere. Not like he did with Riley, who has walked far enough down this path with him that it was only very difficult, not impossibly difficult. Riley, who’s all wrong in ways that align far too neatly with his.]
[Fortunately, he did come up with something else, a way of at least halfway explaining how significant this is to him without going into all the details. Showing, not telling. He digs in his shirt pocket and pulls out a dragonfly brooch, bright and gaudy and fitting perfectly in his hand.]
[Holding it up by the tail:] Riley got me this for Christmas. I think she was confused that I got her something, so she brought me cookies and this, even though I wasn’t expecting anything, either. We got into an argument about bugs in the tunnel when we first got here, so I suppose she thought of me.
[With a twitchy smile, he shrugs.]
It’s just fitting. That you both think the same way. So I wanted to open them in the same place, since they go together.
[ While Alder tries in vain to spit out the stuck tissue paper, Giorno will also be privy to the scene of Steve immediately and brazenly reaching into a fussing, unfamiliar cat mouth to assist in his troubles. Crinklies are for fun, buddy. And driving your caretakers up the wall with repetitive noise. Not food.
Steve holds the moistened paper up triumphantly, about to flick it aside when he catches Giorno's eyes and therefore his "smile." He stops everything he's doing at the thank you and watches him pull out the trinket, naturally wondering where this is all going.
The point, it turns out, is goddamn sappy, and it hits him like whatever the good version of a ton of bricks is. ]
I'm sure there's more to you than just being the Bug Guy, but, I mean... yeah, you're welcome.
[ Remember that bashfulness from a couple moments ago? It's already coming back. Trying to, anyway. He's far more focused on keeping his head up and his attention on his conversation partner this time around. As a result, Steve's brown eyes dance from Giorno's green ones, to his neck, to his chest, and then back up again, never quite pulling all the way awry. ]
Gotta say, I'm really glad I didn't just hand it to you at the door, now.
[ Would've ruined this whole thing, and he'd be none the wiser. ]
[Alder is too stunned by this maneuver to even bite. What chutzpah. He peers up at Steve with new admiration. All right, this one is permitted. Even if he does lift a paw to halfheartedly slap at the spit-covered tissue paper. Gross?]
Well, that's why I live in Bavan's weirdest house. It's so I can lure people into the greenhouse to be sentimental at them.
[This is a joke. It's not a good one, but it's an attempt. He's busying himself storing away the knowledge of things that have made Steve happy (and a little embarrassed) so far. Praise, certainly. Gratitude. And this, which falls into a category he doesn't exactly have a word for but could easily recreate. He spends so much time thinking about these things — connections, meanings, symmetry, the ways that people weave in and out of each other and make differences in one another's lives — that his internal world is, in fact, a very strange mix of pessimistic pragmatism and storybook sentimentality. No one ever told him you had to pick.]
[It's rewarding, in any case, to see the way Steve's affected. He'll make that happen again sometime, he decides.]
Really, though. I would probably have mentioned it at some point. But I'm glad you didn't just hand it to me at the door, too.
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[By that part, anyway. The sight of Steve in his socks in the entrance to the effusive main floor is ridiculous enough that he's having to make a concerted effort to keep a straight face. This becomes a lot more difficult when Steve just . . . keeps talking.]
[He lifts his hand up to cover his mouth, fingers crooked over his lips as though he's in very deep thought about something that isn't stifling his own laughter. Not even at anything in particular, just the absurdity of the whole situation, and the bluntness, and it's awkward and stupid, and he just—]
[He's not laughing. He absolutely isn't. He sets his shoulders back, clears his throat, and does something . . . frankly remarkable.]
That depends. Do you mind staying a while, or were you hoping to hand it over and then flee?
[Abandoning The Plan? This far in? Seems fake.]
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When he pries his eyes from their frankly cartoonish surroundings to look back at his host, his tone is gently ribbing. ]
You know, I have pretty good hearing.
[ Not to say that Giorno's careful maneuver let any laughter slip through, but the image of him with a hand placed over his mouth just so invites suspicion. Maybe once upon a time that isn't this one, he wasn't so successful. Steve carries on to give the place one more quick look-see, and his opinion hasn't changed: ]
Honestly, this room is so weird, I think I need to see the rest.
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[Which isn't the point. Steve knows what he's up to because he has cheat codes. It should be more annoying than it is, which is maybe five percent. He does wonder why this doesn't feel as threatening as it did with Riley, given that they have the same information. Maybe it's the deliberate way Steve has been proceeding, or the fact that here there's less to lose, or the tension of his and Riley's too-alikeness.]
[Maybe it's because he's got cheat codes, too. Either way, it's obvious this is the answer he wanted to hear, because he does allow himself to smile after all.]
Then later is fine. Come on.
[No points for guessing where he's taking them: it's the garden, because of course there is one. It's not far from the front entrance in the grand scheme of how big Hill House is overall, and as they pass other doors and halls it becomes clear the place resembles an expansive, well-lit warren more than anything else. The path from the front door transitions smoothly to the garden, vegetation cropping up on either side until suddenly the path is replaced by cobblestones and everything is green. Daylight creeps in through what look like bubbles in the ceiling. The moment they cross the barely-perceptible threshold, Giorno's smile widens, and he hums, seeming instantly more relaxed.]
[There's a short, bushy tree in one corner, which also contains a messy patch of vibrantly-colored plants. He makes a beeline for it and, eschewing the perfectly reasonable adjacent stone bench, just sits down cross-legged in the roots of the tree.]
Tada. Comparatively weirder, or less weird?
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Another nymph told me that looking at flowers is a lot like looking at baby animals.
[ By that logic, that might make what Giorno's doing with this shrub the equivalent of cuddling up next to the family dog. He can confirm or deny that statement if he wants, but he definitely looks like he's just gotten the same dose of happiness people get when they play with the new litters at Poundmates. ]
I think most people wish they could have a room full of baby animals.
[ After checking his wristwatch, Steve also ignores the bench in favor of the old saying monkey see, monkey do. Though, it probably would have benefited him to at least brace against it while taking off his socks and rolling up his jeans, instead of hopping from foot to foot and performing one whole balancing act. Then, he picks a warm patch of sunlit grass to step into, off of the comparatively cold cobbles, and... sits?
Is this what they're doing now, sitting???? ]
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Oh. Is that a nymph thing? It's not really . . . new, for me.
[Is that unusual? This part of it hasn't changed. If he'd had access to something like this garden at home, he'd have spent time there every day. There's a safety, a homeyness in it that feels like a part of him. He brought Riley here out of a sense of joy and a desire to share; there's some of that with Steve, too, but his sense of being wrong-footed is part of it, too. If he sits with this tree he helped to grow, roots touching dirt, he doesn't worry as much about things.]
[The setting doesn't quite manage to squelch the feeling of hurt, not really his, at Steve's glance at his watch. That shows, too, quick but not quick enough, and as he chases it off of his face and out of his mind he reminds himself he has nothing to worry about.]
[Then Steve hops around fighting his socks for a bit, which helps. As he finally sits, Giorno cocks his head, observing maybe a bit too closely.]
We do have baby animals. One or the other of them should be along shortly. [Shoulders pressed back against the trunk of the tree, he hums before abruptly shifting gears.] I can't tell if you're uncomfortable or just confused. I can tell some things more easily now, but not that. It's strange. But I don't want you to be uncomfortable.
[This is . . . one of those things. Something Haruno would have expressed, but not so clumsily, not in the same slightly-off way, like someone practicing casual conversation and hitting the edge of the target instead of the bullseye.]
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Haruno had some eccentricities, so it stands to reason that Giorno would have them, too. Kind of a surprise, though, that the one with the better sense of style is so far turning out to be the more awkward of the two. ]
Oh. [ Yet, it doesn't matter how unusually stated it is, Giorno's just said something that makes Steve feel the need to run his mouth. Realization overtaking his expression, he points to his watch. ] Oh, I don't have anywhere else to be. That was for, uh— For an hour-ish every day, I can change my body back to the way it was before, almost.
[ Isn't it interesting that his floppy ears are the only inhuman thing about him at the moment? When he's definitely been here for months, and months, and months since he first "ran" into Giorno during Nattensfest? ]
I'm about to go all rabbit-y again in a minute here, so that made it easy to decide whether I should ditch the socks, and then that made it easy to decide if I should try walking on the grass, too.
[ Which brings him to his last point— ]
I don't know what rules you've got around here. Yeah, I could've just asked, but I also didn't want to be super formal? That's what you do for people's parents, not—
[ He gestures at his host, who's even younger than he is—if that wasn't another detail that got fudged up when they were brainwashed. Anyway, there Giorno has it, Steve's entire thought process helpfully if haphazardly laid out. He doesn't want him to be uncomfortable, either. ]
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[How many pairs of socks has Steve ruined before coming to understand how to track his timing properly? A question to ask later. He absently registers the note about formality, too. That's right, that was a difference in the other place, too: even though Haruno was much more comfortable with people than he is, there was still a gulf in the way they dealt with people. Formality versus familiarity. Steffan just . . . became friends with people sometimes simply by deciding to. That's what he tried with Haruno, and it halfway worked, despite him choosing such a cagey mark.]
[This all reminds him of something. Is it important? . . . Probably. He doesn't want to be misunderstood. It matters, even if he's not certain why yet.]
Thank you. For being thoughtful about all of that, and for explaining. I don't . . . really know of any rules that would be relevant anyway. More than anything, I think . . .
[Hm. He tucks a wisp of hair behind his ear, eyes raising to the ceiling as he thinks.]
Riley told me I can be . . . cryptic. That's the word she used. I didn't know before she told me, but I've tried to be more careful since then. Still, if that happens and you wouldn't mind telling me when it does, I'd appreciate it. It upset her, and I don't want to upset you.
[It's incredibly blunt, almost childlike in the way he expresses how difficult it is for him to talk to people in a neutral way. He wonders how this conversation would have gone if he hadn't spoken to Riley first. It probably wouldn't have gone at all. He's riding a strange wave of serenity, or perhaps simple overstimulation, at the way Riley took the truth of him and held it like any other secret revealed. That makes this so much easier.]
[At least for him. His wide green gaze descends upon Steve again.]
You were kind to me in that other place, and I know it's the same here because of Riley. I can't say for sure, since I don't know much about you, but you seem very . . . normal? I can't think of a better word. But I'd like to know you, if I can find a way to be a little more . . .
[Normal? Comprehensible? Haruno?]
. . . communicative.
[At the very least he's currently leaning heavily on that, even if normal is taking a backseat.]
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...This is like that thing people say about coming home and finding all of the furniture slightly rearranged, but a person. It's clearly going to take stubbing his toe on the dresser he's not used to being so close to the doorway a few times before he gets a sense of where everything is again. Not that Giorno is his person the way his home is his home, or anything like that.
He sighs gently, and then follows it up with an airy little laugh like the guy's just told him something funny. It is funny, that being someone whose routine was mostly rolling out of bed to go scoop rocky road for children every morning makes him remarkable, right after he spent his last few months in Hawkins feeling pretty not that. Not haha funny, but funny. ]
Listen, I know. And I know that makes me the odd man out around here.
[ Lila is intense, untrusting in way that has him seriously thinking whatever problems she's had to face in her life are much worse than a bad date, or detention, or getting grounded by her parents. He's pretty sure whatever crazy alternate past Cersei comes from holds public executions daily. Komaeda and his classmates seem normal, but sometimes there's some odd phrasing or a comment that slips out that makes him frankly afraid to ask the truth. It's Riley who's actually in the lead for the most normal person he's met, but her home life just wasn't great. Everybody's been through so much shit. ]
Another friend of mine grew up on a planet that sounds a lot like that movie with a bunch of crazy people wearing garbage and like, driving cars through a desert? I think there's been two of them, actually? [ He is, for the record, talking about Mad Max. ] Anyway, her social skills are kinda clunky, so I invite her along whenever I'm up to something she might like.
[ His eyebrows take on a concerned bend. ]
Is that something that would help you? Is that something you'd want?
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[It's not that he thinks it's a trick. He really doesn't. He couldn't explain why, not logically, because he knows that Steve and Steffan are not the same, and by the end Haruno's trust in Steffan was a complicated thing anyway. The combination of that and his own natural distrust of others should combine to create a healthy uncertainty about this offer.]
[Somehow, though, it just doesn't. He can't look at Steve right now and see what he's saying as anything other than painfully genuine. This is just . . . something that someone like Steve, a very normal person, is offering to him, someone whose social skills are, yes, "kinda clunky". That's pretty accurate. And he's just willing to do that. And Giorno can't find anything within himself that questions it.]
[Why is that? There has to be a reason. It isn't just Riley's trust in Steve, it isn't just Haruno's experiences. There's something else. He just can't put his finger on what. At the same time, he can't do the polite thing (the deflecting thing) where he double-checks to make sure, to try to find a hole in the answer, to wiggle out of it. He can't, he won't, he doesn't want to. In fact, he feels a little mutinous in response to even the thought.]
[Instead of all of that—]
Yes.
[Yes, it's something that would help. Yes, it's something he wants. As he says it, he realizes that he wants that a lot. It's not something he's . . . ever had, really.]
I don't know if it's something I can provide in exchange. I don't do much other than work. [And be outside, but not in a purposeful way, just sort of. Outside. Still.] But if that's all right, then yes. [A crooked, toothy sort of smile appears, then. He doesn't take responsibility for it.] Do you get up to things I might like?
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All signs point to Steve not having thought things through this far.
Haruno at his most default state wasn't a sports fan. Whether that carried over, it's too early to say, but if he was the same insect nerd that Giorno is... and Steffan was really into basketball, then it may be safe to say that their basic interests stayed pretty much intact. And now that they're not... dating... said basic interests could very well be back to square one incongruent. ]
Have you ever heard of Nai'a Nights?
[ ...is what he ultimately chooses to lead with. The waitresses are cute, Maya lets him order off the cocktail menu when girls named Riley don't call ahead to get his privileges revoked, and the food's not bad, either. ]
I hang out there sometimes. It's- [ Hold on. ] Actually, better question, do you drink?
[ Riley's also taught him that this is an important factor to consider before assuming how much someone will enjoy something. ]
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[Regardless, the point is: this is a win for Steve, because Giorno lights up immediately. He even goes so far as to straighten up from his trunk-lounge.]
Mmhm, I like it there. Maya made a chocolate thing in February, I was there for most of the month. It—
[Wait, hold on, back up. Navigating back to the part where Steve was still talking when he stopped listening. Does he drink? After leaving his mouth open for a moment, he snaps it closed and nods.]
Yes. [Haruno did, too, but only with some persuasion. Which is a good point, actually. He presses his soles together and flattens his legs out until the sides of his knees touch the grass, butterfly-pose.] More than — you know. Overall, it would be fair for you to assume that I'm less concerned about following rules.
[Which. Is a thing, since Haruno wasn't very concerned about that at all. He considers bringing up the thing Riley said — that Haruno was sweet, and the issue he took with that — but after a brief moment of crawling mortification, decides not to bring it up.]
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That's perfect.
[ Steve claps his hands together, then points at Giorno with both of them. It's a lot of enthusiasm for a serene garden setting, but this is all he knows how to be. ]
Hello, new drinking buddy!
[ This is good, a starting point. There's still the matter of figuring out literally anywhere else that's up both their alleys besides an already well-known and beloved hangout for monsters, but he can workshop that as he goes.
For now? Crisis averted.
He doesn't react to his legs beginning to—put lightly—wig out from the ankle down. Flesh squishes and stretches like taffy, and brown fur sprouts over plain pink skin like a time lapse of grass growing. In seconds, Steve is back to having dumb teeth, bulky claws, and a pair of giant rabbit kickers, the entire process apparently painless.
Ultimately, he only notices because his hands are still in front of him, holding that same pointing pose. He gives his fingers a wriggle. ] Ah, told you.
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[Solemnly, with the air of speaking a foreign language with great precision, Giorno responds to Steve with a single fingergun and a weirdly good imitation of a gunshot sound. Pew, pew. It's always difficult to tell in these sorts of situations whether he's knowingly dunking on himself or just being oblivious, but he is finding meeting Steve where he's at with deadpan solemnity to be pretty fun. Even when he's quickly interrupted by body horror.]
[Leaning forward, he watches the unfootening with interest, apparently unbothered by the visuals. Steve doesn't start screaming, so he's probably got nothing to worry about.] You can really do that every day? That's fascinating. Can you only change back to how you looked before, or can you do other things?
[Above him, in the bushy branches of the small tree, something has been awakened by either the body horror, the pew pews, or the conversation as a whole. Out of nowhere, a blob of black fur dead-drops onto Giorno's shoulder, knocking the breath out of him in an oof, although he doesn't seem all that concerned, given that he doesn't even look up. The thing fixes Steve with a stare. Its face is a solid two-thirds eyes. Debatably, this is a cat.]
I haven't met a single person who's gotten away without their feet going weird. At least it doesn't hurt doing it this way — right? [It would be pretty ridiculous to keep doing it otherwise. He can't imagine Riley permitting it.]
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Steve's fuzzy feet clench, his legs scrunching back toward his body, which looks like a fear response—and it is—but it's also half of a built-in reflex to kick the the source of his fright into the stratosphere. That he doesn't has nothing to do with trying to be a good houseguest. His bigger concern in the moment is that it's right next to Giorno's head, and missing could be a pretty catastrophic.
His mouth chews on itself, muddling the curse word that nonetheless slips through his lips. ]
Iiiii- I'll answer all of that in just a minute, just—what in the world is that?
[ Though, since Giorno's reaction is telling him that this a normal, okay thing that's just happened, he'll force himself to be adventurous. Once he gets over his surprise, he'll hold a finger out toward the mystery thing and hope for the best. What is the best? Keeping said finger is the ideal, but he'll take anything positive in addition to that. ]
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. . . A cat?
[His tone suggests that he thinks this might be a trick question. Steve looks extremely alarmed. Hasn't he ever seen a cat before? This is cat behavior. Totally normal.]
[The creature extends a paw toward Steve's finger of peace. However, what occurs next isn't a gentle bap. It rests its paw against the extended claw, then digs its own claws very slightly into the pads. Not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to make a point. Then it retracts its appendages and oozes down off of Giorno's shoulder to inspect the new person at a closer distance. Sniff.]
His name is Alder. He's from the bugs. I stole him. [A remarkably frank admission. He's previously framed his ownership of this cat as humanitarian, because obviously harm would come to him if Giorno hadn't taken him, but he doesn't really believe that. He was just desperate to take care of something.]
[In any case, that probably explains at least some of Alder's poor manners. Any other issues are explainable by the fact that he is a cat.]
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He's familiar with this sensation. The barest hint of warm beans, little bastard claws... Nefarious, but not the gremlin hand he could've sworn was going to extend from this dark shape in his haste. Steve blinks a number of times.
It's-
To quote, "...a cat?" ]
I've been on this peninsula for too long, man. I... thought I saw something else.
[ As he watches the completely normal cat wander toward him, his ears stiffen up, just about pressing against each other atop his head. Typically, he ties them together and stuffs them down the back of his collar while on the clock, but now that a cat's appeared on much shorter notice... he'll just have to focus on keeping them still. No letting them dangle, and no sudden movements that may attract claws. ]
Just like Maple, huh.
[ Alder's much closer to how he'd expect an animal to look after being inside of a giant bug nest—like he's seen things. ]
Think they're from the same litter?
[ Insert some light pspspsing. ]
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Mm. Riley told me . . . she named him after the tree, so I did the same.
[Alder is, of course, bigger than Maple, with longer fur and a greater glint of madness in his eye. They look fairly similar otherwise, but it's hard to know with cats. So Giorno hums.]
They could very well be. Apparently the bugs have a small colony that they care for. I was worried about it at first, but they seem to genuinely do a good job providing for them, even though they're so bad at figuring out what humans are supposed to eat. [Priorities in order, he guesses.] Honestly, there's no way to know if he and Maple are from the same litter, so I've just decided that they are because it's nice to think about it that way. They get along well when I bring him by.
[Despite their massive difference in temperament, they have some things in common. For example, the way Alder zeroes in on Steve's ears moving, his eyes becoming black pools of devilment. He's quickly distracted by the noise, though, and stomps closer, sniffing the air, until he puts his paw on Steve's knee unceremoniously. Attend to him.]
[Giorno just regards this interaction fondly for a moment before adding,] The bad manners are probably my fault. I'm accidentally inducting him into a life of crime. It's up to you to be a good influence.
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At least the fact that he hasn't been to the shelter today means he only smells like one human-shaped rabbit, as opposed to a million other unfamiliar cats and dogs. ]
Me? Ho-ho-kay, maybe she also told you I work with animals, but just between us... I've never had any pets before. I took the job because anything was better than pizza delivery.
[ Including litter box duty, because some people are shittier than actual... yup! ]
Doesn't mean I won't try, but... no promises, zero promises.
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[This seems to stymie Giorno, certainly enough to give Alder an opportunity to sniff at Steve again before stomping his tiny little dagger feet into his lap. This one's fine. This one's acceptable. While the cat is busy staring at Steve from very close up, trying to intimidate him into pets, Giorno folds himself up into deep thought.]
I didn't actually know you did. Work with animals, I mean. I just assumed you would be good with animals, since you're good with people, and animals are much easier.
[Was that an incorrect assumption? He doesn't think so, not considering how unmauled Steve is at the moment, not to mention good-natured after the initial tension. Historically, assuming things has gone poorly with Riley, but Riley and Steve also aren't at all the same person. That's the problem. Guidelines often aren't much help when it comes to people.]
[Caught up in his own Gordian knot, he almost misses the obvious: he's still trying to find a catch. When everything goes fine, the skin on the back of his neck prickles. He tries to find a problem, something he's doing wrong or something that doesn't add up. But if he keeps doing that—]
[He's wanted to talk to Steve more this whole time. Steve is funny. It's hard to forget someone who introduces himself like that. But the closest he's gotten to functional interaction has come about because of something completely out of his control, and he's still paranoid enough to accidentally sabotage it. Maybe he just needs to stop thinking.]
[All right, then. Fine.] What I mean is, thank you. For reaching out in the first place, because I probably wouldn't have, and that isn't really what I want. Wanted — want. Whatever.
[He doesn't know how to explain it. How the fact that they seem capable of understanding each other feels like a minor miracle to him, considering how distant he's certain their experiences are from each other. But he knows how to say thank you to people who have skills he simply doesn't. In this, at least from his perspective, Steve has been significantly braver.]
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Let's see if Giorno still thinks he's good with animals in a second, depending on how Alder reacts. ]
Nice of you to say all that.
[ Giorno doesn't know he used to be just as much of an idiot as Steffan when it came to being good with people, as he puts it. Now, at least, he must be doing something right to be receiving so much praise out of nowhere.
And speaking of reaching out, there's a reason he came here, and it wasn't to sit under skylights in gardens or pet wall-eyed cats, though he doesn't mind the distraction. He fishes around his jacket, which he's still wearing in April. It's a nice jacket, so sue him. ]
Here, I probably shouldn't keep holding this thing hostage.
[ The box he pulls out is flat, white, and a little too oblong for the pouch Giorno's already seen in trash quality. Not because that's not what's in there, but because Steve had some stuff leftover after packing up Riley's gift; the tissue paper inside happens to be orange for that reason. Tossing it all together only took a second, and added an extra layer of protection between it and any accidental tumbles into the mud it could have taken while he was biking over. ]
It's a, uhhhh- [ This continues for a hot second. ] A stag beetle? That kind.
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[Still, it's true. He doesn't regret saying it. He jots down a few mental notes for later. This is a subject he can and will come back to. For now—]
Ooh.
[His eyes light up as he takes the box perhaps a little too quickly, eagerness palpable as he paws it open. A snort at the orange paper, and then he's torn his way into it like an absolute monster and is holding the pouch as though it's the most precious, valuable artifact in all of human history and also simultaneously his own infant child. He would die for this coin pouch.]
[And also maybe for Steve a little, if the near-fanatical gleam in his eye at the correct identification is anything to go by.] Mmhm! I need to check the book Riley gave me to make sure all the details are the same as ordinary stag beetles, from home I mean, but I'm pretty sure they're the same here. Did you know they wrestle each other? One will lift the other over his head and just throw him.
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Steve takes one of the tissue paper scraps that flies in his direction and crinkles it a few times for Alder before dropping it on top of his paws.]
The lady selling them clued me into some stuff.
[Wouldn't stop talking about them the whole time he was checking out, in fact. Giorno would probably like her.]
She didn't mention that specifically though, which is kinda funny. Close quarters bug combat seems like what you'd wanna open with. [...] Like so.
[He snorts.]
Guess she thought I already knew the basics, since it was the only thing I was buying.
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[He hugs the beetle to his chest and watches, with a smile that lives mostly in his eyes, as Alder immediately snaps up the tissue paper and then looks extremely consternated by the taste of tissue paper stuck to his tongue. Mleh.]
Thank you, Steve. [Which isn’t enough, really. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to go into all of the rest of it out of nowhere. Not like he did with Riley, who has walked far enough down this path with him that it was only very difficult, not impossibly difficult. Riley, who’s all wrong in ways that align far too neatly with his.]
[Fortunately, he did come up with something else, a way of at least halfway explaining how significant this is to him without going into all the details. Showing, not telling. He digs in his shirt pocket and pulls out a dragonfly brooch, bright and gaudy and fitting perfectly in his hand.]
[Holding it up by the tail:] Riley got me this for Christmas. I think she was confused that I got her something, so she brought me cookies and this, even though I wasn’t expecting anything, either. We got into an argument about bugs in the tunnel when we first got here, so I suppose she thought of me.
[With a twitchy smile, he shrugs.]
It’s just fitting. That you both think the same way. So I wanted to open them in the same place, since they go together.
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Steve holds the moistened paper up triumphantly, about to flick it aside when he catches Giorno's eyes and therefore his "smile." He stops everything he's doing at the thank you and watches him pull out the trinket, naturally wondering where this is all going.
The point, it turns out, is goddamn sappy, and it hits him like whatever the good version of a ton of bricks is. ]
I'm sure there's more to you than just being the Bug Guy, but, I mean... yeah, you're welcome.
[ Remember that bashfulness from a couple moments ago? It's already coming back. Trying to, anyway. He's far more focused on keeping his head up and his attention on his conversation partner this time around. As a result, Steve's brown eyes dance from Giorno's green ones, to his neck, to his chest, and then back up again, never quite pulling all the way awry. ]
Gotta say, I'm really glad I didn't just hand it to you at the door, now.
[ Would've ruined this whole thing, and he'd be none the wiser. ]
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Well, that's why I live in Bavan's weirdest house. It's so I can lure people into the greenhouse to be sentimental at them.
[This is a joke. It's not a good one, but it's an attempt. He's busying himself storing away the knowledge of things that have made Steve happy (and a little embarrassed) so far. Praise, certainly. Gratitude. And this, which falls into a category he doesn't exactly have a word for but could easily recreate. He spends so much time thinking about these things — connections, meanings, symmetry, the ways that people weave in and out of each other and make differences in one another's lives — that his internal world is, in fact, a very strange mix of pessimistic pragmatism and storybook sentimentality. No one ever told him you had to pick.]
[It's rewarding, in any case, to see the way Steve's affected. He'll make that happen again sometime, he decides.]
Really, though. I would probably have mentioned it at some point. But I'm glad you didn't just hand it to me at the door, too.