*** 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.
[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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
. . . 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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.