*** 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.
[ 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
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.