[The smile on Giorno's face when he talks about Buccellati is different from the one he wears when he talks about his own accomplishments. That's the first thing Jotaro notices as he listens, following along with the assurances and other tidbits of detail that help to flesh out the existing relationship between the two of them even further. It'd occurred to him, the last time they spoke, that Giorno has a smile that looks like something you'd see on a marble statue — perfect and elegant but also controlled, somehow sculpted into place. This isn't the same one; Giorno in general is warmer today, which probably makes sense considering this encounter started out on an amicable foot instead of a hostile one, but still.
He seems happy. It's a good look on him, and he makes a quiet note of it, not for now but for sometime later — and whether it'll be for his own benefit or for Giorno's, he's not entirely sure.
He can't remember Dio ever looking happy. Cocky, superior, triumphant, smug, high, full of himself, proud — sure, he'd run that whole spectrum. But never happy, never prompted by something as evidently simple as this, the way that the topic of Bruno Buccellati puts warmth in Giorno's expression and turns up the edges of his mouth.]
So I'll try not to rub it in, that he has to ask permission to sit and I don't. Technically.
["Moral", though. That's an interesting choice of words. Honor, that's something he'd expect to find in a gang in spades, nothing unusual about that. But "moral"...
...He won't say it aloud, but it does occur to him that Giorno conceding Buccellati as being more moral than him might be a double-edged sword. In some respects, it makes him a better person. But organized crime isn't the sort of business that tends to incentivize morality, either.]
action
He seems happy. It's a good look on him, and he makes a quiet note of it, not for now but for sometime later — and whether it'll be for his own benefit or for Giorno's, he's not entirely sure.
He can't remember Dio ever looking happy. Cocky, superior, triumphant, smug, high, full of himself, proud — sure, he'd run that whole spectrum. But never happy, never prompted by something as evidently simple as this, the way that the topic of Bruno Buccellati puts warmth in Giorno's expression and turns up the edges of his mouth.]
So I'll try not to rub it in, that he has to ask permission to sit and I don't. Technically.
["Moral", though. That's an interesting choice of words. Honor, that's something he'd expect to find in a gang in spades, nothing unusual about that. But "moral"...
...He won't say it aloud, but it does occur to him that Giorno conceding Buccellati as being more moral than him might be a double-edged sword. In some respects, it makes him a better person. But organized crime isn't the sort of business that tends to incentivize morality, either.]
Why does he like me? Or is that a secret?