[He bites his own lip, trying hard not to allow himself to cry-- not because he's ashamed, but because they need to still muddle through this, and tears won't help. But it's hard, because all of this is very nearly too much-- disappointment and assurance and I love you, so freely given that it's dizzying.]
We all fight. All of us, Kakyoin and Jotaro and Joseph and you and I-- and I forgot that.
[That they're all battle hardened, no matter how they might present themselves in their off moments. Jotaro is a deadly force of nature, even as he plays with his otter and gets flustered over Kakyoin. Giorno deliberately chose to doom a man to an eternity of agony, and yet he's crying against Polnareff's shoulder; and yet he'd leapt into Polnareff's arms the first day, chattering in Italian, so obvious in his delight to see him.
He doesn't know how to ask what he truly wants to know: is this version of me truly all right? Giorno says it is, that he's everything he ought to be, but he knows he's not-- not yet. He's not, because he saw the way Giorno's face closed, that slight nod, that acceptance that meant you messed up.
But he's something. Some rough version of himself, unpolished but getting there. And maybe that's enough, for now.
He sniffs, trying to steady himself, and smiles over at what he can see of Giorno.]
Mm, any other confessions we want to cover while we're here?
[Someday in the future, your body will die, and Chariot will die with it.]
[He doesn't say it. He can't. Sometimes he doesn't even like thinking about it, even though that's the Polnareff they're used to — and besides, they all promised, didn't they? Him and Jotaro and Kakyoin, the three of them, with their sostegno.]
[A circle has an infinite number of points. Polnareff is one of them now. Thank God.]
[He pulls back-- not to remove Giorno, necessarily, but so he can see him. All of him, and that's as much a metaphor as it is literal. Polnareff offers half a smile, and yeah, he's still a little teary, but so what, he's allowed a few tears here and there.
One of these nights, they'll talk about like I thought I brought Bruno back. Not now, though. Things are still fragile and a little uncertain-- so they'll save it. They've all the time in the world to talk.]
Come on. There's still some of your birthday cake left. We're owed a treat at the end of tonight.
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We all fight. All of us, Kakyoin and Jotaro and Joseph and you and I-- and I forgot that.
[That they're all battle hardened, no matter how they might present themselves in their off moments. Jotaro is a deadly force of nature, even as he plays with his otter and gets flustered over Kakyoin. Giorno deliberately chose to doom a man to an eternity of agony, and yet he's crying against Polnareff's shoulder; and yet he'd leapt into Polnareff's arms the first day, chattering in Italian, so obvious in his delight to see him.
He doesn't know how to ask what he truly wants to know: is this version of me truly all right? Giorno says it is, that he's everything he ought to be, but he knows he's not-- not yet. He's not, because he saw the way Giorno's face closed, that slight nod, that acceptance that meant you messed up.
But he's something. Some rough version of himself, unpolished but getting there. And maybe that's enough, for now.
He sniffs, trying to steady himself, and smiles over at what he can see of Giorno.]
Mm, any other confessions we want to cover while we're here?
no subject
[He doesn't say it. He can't. Sometimes he doesn't even like thinking about it, even though that's the Polnareff they're used to — and besides, they all promised, didn't they? Him and Jotaro and Kakyoin, the three of them, with their sostegno.]
[A circle has an infinite number of points. Polnareff is one of them now. Thank God.]
[He sighs, and shakes his head.]
No. I think that's dramatic enough, don't you?
no subject
[He pulls back-- not to remove Giorno, necessarily, but so he can see him. All of him, and that's as much a metaphor as it is literal. Polnareff offers half a smile, and yeah, he's still a little teary, but so what, he's allowed a few tears here and there.
One of these nights, they'll talk about like I thought I brought Bruno back. Not now, though. Things are still fragile and a little uncertain-- so they'll save it. They've all the time in the world to talk.]
Come on. There's still some of your birthday cake left. We're owed a treat at the end of tonight.