digiorno | ic inbox ( ruby city ) Ⅰ

Are you giving me an order?

[For all that it could easily be a rebuke, it's really just quietly amused. He hears the possessive and approves of it, even though it doesn't matter whether he does or not. Even though he still thinks they're both idiots.]

[He toes his shoes off, sinks his bare feet into the sand, and looks out at the water. Water.]

. . . We were in Venezia. All of us split up, me and Mista together. He didn't like me then, or maybe he didn't care one way or the other, but either way - we were in a stolen car, racing down the highway, with a Stand user chasing us. Ghiaccio, and White Album. Freezing up the streets and the car and us, too.

It was so hard to think. And Mista was yelling at me, and he couldn't get a good shot in because this Stand, it covered the user's whole body, and it didn't seem like there were any chinks in his armor. I think Mista was pissed. He's good at what he does, you know, he doesn't like that kind of thing, when people cheat like that.

So to get away, get a moment to think, I drove the car into one of the canals. Which was stupid. He just froze the water, but - Mista wouldn't believe he couldn't be beaten. He thought there had to be a gap somewhere, some way to get him. So he figured out a way to get to shore, kept trying and trying different things to kill him, and I was stuck on the fucking car, sinking.

[The briefest flicker of a smile; he touches a spot on the back of his neck, under the braid.]

He found the weak spot. And he shot at it, but Ghiaccio, he froze the air solid, and the bullets just bounced off it and hit Mista instead. And he was saying . . . it was his responsibility, he had to take care of this. For Bruno, for everyone. It didn't matter if he died. And I thought . . .

That kind of spirit, it's too beautiful to waste.

[With a sharp exhale, he licks his lips.]

I had never really thought that before. That there were ways to victory that were unacceptable, because of the cost involved. But Mista dying there like that, I wouldn't have it. So I showed him - I had to show him - I injured myself, to show him that when blood got close to Ghiaccio it froze. And he just knew, he knew without me having to say anything - got close enough so that when he shot at Ghiaccio again and the bullets ricocheted back, the blood got in his face and froze. He couldn't see an attack coming. All he could do was die.

Damn.

[It's impressed, of course — the sort of remark that usually comes accompanied by a low whistle of approval, except that he doesn't quite feel like trying, not just yet. It's better to stay quiet and tip his head over to watch Giorno, the seemingly absentminded things he does as he talks and recollects.

Even without understanding them, he can understand that they're significant. It's interesting. It's important.]

When they just get it, and you don't have to say a word...it's really something, isn't it.

It really is.

[His smile comes soft, a little shy, as he listens to the sound of the water and the sound of Jotaro's breathing (because he is breathing now, he isn't going to stop his heart again). Gold Experience, who was standing sentinel, falls into a crouch at his side now, then sits and releases all tension, running its fingers lightly through the tangles of Giorno's hair, for one rare moment open and affectionate. Comfortable.]

I didn't know it could happen. Not like that. I'm good at talking, not so good at just showing. But he knew.

[He's so much smarter than people give him credit for. So good. He deserves everything.]

Sometimes I wonder if they're ever really going to understand how lucky we are, having them.

I don't get how they look at us and think we're so great, when they're...right there.

[How many times has he wanted to just...grab him and sit him down and shake the fears of worthlessness out of him and tell him again and again and again how important he is, until he comes around to believing it?

So many times.

It's so frustrating. So frustrating, why can't they see it, why can't they just hurry up and believe it.]

...I'm glad he turned up. Followed you here.

Me too. I'm not as strong without him.

[He would be better with Trish, too. But if he were alone, he'd be helpless. He needs Mista, and Mista needs him.]

[Good thing Mista would follow him anywhere.]

[Casting a glance sideways, he gives a crooked smile - to Jotaro, to Star, to both of them. Gold Experience begins to redo his braid, slowly and attentively.]

If you still want me to help you show Kakyoin. I brought something. For the fish.

...I do. I mean. Either way, I want him to have the fish.

[Although...]

I think...I don't know if I'm going to tell him with the fish. I might try to come up with something more...

[He pauses, staring quietly up at the sky for a minute, as Star shifts and mirrors the action with wider-eyed fascination emblazoned across his face.]

...Words. But I want him to have the fish.

Something more words?

[The low amusement in his tone is overlaid, once again, with affection. It's hard to talk to him at all without that being present. His life was so empty for so long, and now it's so full . . . he doesn't know how to be this whole of a person. But he's trying.]

[So he lays one hand on Jotaro's shoulder, and hopes the touch translates to Star, while the other hand paws open the cloth bag next to him and pulls out the two things - the green button and the washcloth. He sets them between his legs in the sand and flexes his toes, then pulls a hair tie out of his pocket and hands it back to Gold Experience.]

It's a beautiful thing you're doing, you know. It's a very you kind of thing to do.

[Which really means roughly the same thing in this case.]

Something he can't convince himself is different than what I mean. Not blunt, just...words.

[This makes sense. The motioning of his hand elaborates on all the sense it makes.

Star does, in fact, glance up when contact is made, even though it's not contact to himself directly, and the look on his face is curious, open and eager, but a touch tentative. The lines between battle and a lack of it are still something unpracticed in their nuances for him, but he learns from the experience and the observation, and he's watching intently now.

Giorno, Jotaro muses silently, is like Star — and he wonders, vaguely, if it's somehow that way for him in return, because Star is petrifying when he's cut loose, wild and uncontrolled and violent and thirsty for battle, but never once for single instant does he honestly believe that Giorno means him harm, any more than Star does.

And there's a distinction there. Meaning someone harm isn't the same as hurting them. One can happen by mistake; the other necessitates intent.

The moment he thinks of that is also the moment when Star finally smiles, bright and winning, and beams it in Giorno's direction.]

...You're going to do it out of a button?

[Star Platinum is smiling at him. He has a nice smile. Which is strange, really, to think about. None of the Stands he's met before have been very expressive (excepting the Pistols, which are always the exception). Moody Blues stands sentinel; Sticky Fingers ghosts through space into non-space; Aerosmith doesn't even have a face, and Purple Haze is, well, a mess. And Gold Experience, its expressions are rare and dangerous.]

[But Star smiles at him and he feels warm and pleased, like he's really earned something wonderful, and it takes him a while to register that Jotaro is talking to him again. That's how happy he is, to have made that happen, however it happened.]

[He raises one hand in a little wave, squeezes Jotaro's shoulder with the other. Then:]

I thought it was appropriate. Since he's beautiful and dangerous, but he holds things together, too. More than he thinks he does.

...Do you always do little things like that? Put meaning into the stuff you do with your Stand.

[And it's clear that he's thinking back to a different day when they were together on this same beach, one filled with discussions of starfish and leviathans and, strangely enough, the meaning of life.

And here they both are, on the other side of time and space and death. That's really something, isn't it.]

...I like that. Putting that kind of thought, into the times you use that kind of power.

I try to.

[He's quiet for a moment, just thinking about that. Maybe a few months ago he would have said yes, always, but - sometimes there isn't time. Sometimes tactics have to take precedence. Sometimes he doesn't have the opportunity to make things as beautiful as they should be.]

[But sometimes, like now, he has the opportunity to lace his life with meaning, with purpose. He wants things to be a little bit like a story, sometimes. He wants the world to reflect his dream.]

I think it would be careless, anyway, to just . . . make it out of any old thing. Since you thought about it so much. And for Kakyoin especially - I want him to know that he's worth putting that kind of thought and attention into.

...Can I leave it to you to tell him? I think it should come from you.

[He hums softly, then at last shifts and gets an elbow underneath him to lever himself up a little, rolling to find a better angle to watch Giorno properly.]

...I think he needs to hear things like that.

Hm?

[Just one glance is all that's needed to communicate his confusion. He turns the button over and over between his fingers, frowning slightly.]

Of course I'll do that, but I don't - why should it come from me?

Because...I think somewhere in his head, I'm always going to be someone he feels like he has to repay for the good things he gets. I think sometimes he hears things I say and believes them...but they add weight to the debt he thinks he's carrying around, too. It's like...there's such a thing as being too good to him, almost. Being good to him makes him feel reminded of how "better" I am.

[He breathes in slowly, running a hand across his face.]

I just want him to get it. I want him to hear it from people he can't deny, too.

That's so stupid.

[But it isn't really castigating or judgmental. Certainly not doubting. A little sad, maybe.]

[It really is different. Mista takes his word as gospel, in some ways; if he says something kind, Mista believes it, because of the way in which he's capable of trusting. Of giving his whole heart, without hesitation or doubt. Kakyoin thinks there's a debt to be paid.]

[They'll both have to be made to see it, somehow.]

I understand. I'll tell him, then. Exactly what I told you.

Thanks, Gi— ...Giorno.

[A sentiment that Star echoes with an ora of his own.]

...Thanks for keeping me on the right track, too.

[Little oras. He smiles, ducks his head, a little shy.]

Thank you for doing the same for me. And if we keep thanking each other like this, we'll be here all night.

Heh. Okay, fine, no more of that.

[...]

It's gonna need a big tank, the betta. I put in space for it at the house.

I was wondering about that. They always sell them in those little jars, but they just didn't seem big enough . . .

If I make it here, where will you put it? [Protect the Kakyoinfish 2k15.]

Yeah, people think that they're decorative. The fish, so they put them in little things to look cool. It's actually terrible for them, they need a ton of space.

[Although this is a good question, the issue of the fish locale.]

...I might have a thermos in my bag. Or we might have to wait until we're back, it's not like I could really haul a tank out here or anything.

Will it hurt him? The thermos.

[Deep and serious concerns about fish. Always. The mafia life.]

From the size? Not if it's short-term. An hour or two shouldn't be that big of a deal.

[These people saved the world.]

All right. Then . . . I'll do it now, if you want me to.

[He's a little excited to, even as tired as he is, turning the button over between his fingers thoughtfully. There's still the matter of the washcloth, too. He's sort of wondering if Jotaro's going to bring it up or not. Not that it'll make a difference in the end, he's pretty sure.]

Oh — sure. ...If you're not too worn out to do one more, I mean.

[So he dispatches Star with a thought to go fetch the bag and the thermos, and gradually the very thought registers, and gets voiced at length.]

...You going to dry your hands when you're done?

No, I can do it. It's what I've practiced most, so it's easiest for me.

[A quick glance up, a soft smile. Good.]

Mm-mm. This is for the other thing I promised you.

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