[When Giorno walked in here, she wasn't sure to expect. She's tried clarifying her stance in ways that make sense to her. And yet, something just doesn't settle right for her, and not for him either. Not in the way she wanted. There's a chill that crawls her spine when Giorno laughs. It creeps up slow and steady, all while he endeavors to recapture her gaze, and he does. She's caught the moment she chances looking his way.
Not harshly, not unkindly. But she is caught.
She feels more than sees his hand move, his presence bleeding into hers — the light weight of his hand over hers settling warm. Warm, but she feels cold enough to shiver.
She realizes, too late, that what she's said is isolating, isn't it? She's not worried, she insists. She's putting it out of her mind. And he's taking it and burdening his own shoulders instead, because he feels like he has to, and with the things she's saying – it only pushed him further into that chasm, didn't it?
She won't take back those words, though. If it makes him feel like he's doing this right, then she won't take that from him, as ill as it makes her feel to hear that lilt in his voice.
Because while she doesn't want him or Bruno or anyone of them to stand alone, she hasn't forgotten how Bruno reacted. They worry for her, and if he knew what she was doing...she can't imagine Giorno reacting much better. Especially not after this.
He cares so much she aches for him. This boy, who she barely knew before, and who matters so much. He says it's his duty, but it's not one she wanted to impose on him. Not ever. She didn't ask for this from him, but it's just how she is. Maybe before they knew each other better, she would have pushed back hard against this kind of talk from him, to push it back into his hands and tell him she won't accept this from him, but now?
She pulls her hands away, gently, tucking her arms against her middle. It's not subtle, but she isn't trying to hide her discomfort. Anyone would be uncomfortable to hear someone talk like this, right?]
...I know, Giorno.
[She murmurs, soft.
She's selfish, she thinks. That's why it's easy to fall back on logic like hers. It's easier not to worry. It's easier to be numb.]
You wouldn't be happy with yourself if you did anything less. But I don't want you to misunderstand me. It's not that I'm not worried at all, but in a place like this, it's easy to stretch yourself too thin.
[She finally uncurls enough to worry the fringes of her dress.]
So...try and remember yourself too. Can you do that for me?
itt: no one is happy w the other persons answers
Not harshly, not unkindly. But she is caught.
She feels more than sees his hand move, his presence bleeding into hers — the light weight of his hand over hers settling warm. Warm, but she feels cold enough to shiver.
She realizes, too late, that what she's said is isolating, isn't it? She's not worried, she insists. She's putting it out of her mind. And he's taking it and burdening his own shoulders instead, because he feels like he has to, and with the things she's saying – it only pushed him further into that chasm, didn't it?
She won't take back those words, though. If it makes him feel like he's doing this right, then she won't take that from him, as ill as it makes her feel to hear that lilt in his voice.
Because while she doesn't want him or Bruno or anyone of them to stand alone, she hasn't forgotten how Bruno reacted. They worry for her, and if he knew what she was doing...she can't imagine Giorno reacting much better. Especially not after this.
He cares so much she aches for him. This boy, who she barely knew before, and who matters so much. He says it's his duty, but it's not one she wanted to impose on him. Not ever. She didn't ask for this from him, but it's just how she is. Maybe before they knew each other better, she would have pushed back hard against this kind of talk from him, to push it back into his hands and tell him she won't accept this from him, but now?
She pulls her hands away, gently, tucking her arms against her middle. It's not subtle, but she isn't trying to hide her discomfort. Anyone would be uncomfortable to hear someone talk like this, right?]
...I know, Giorno.
[She murmurs, soft.
She's selfish, she thinks. That's why it's easy to fall back on logic like hers. It's easier not to worry. It's easier to be numb.]
You wouldn't be happy with yourself if you did anything less. But I don't want you to misunderstand me. It's not that I'm not worried at all, but in a place like this, it's easy to stretch yourself too thin.
[She finally uncurls enough to worry the fringes of her dress.]
So...try and remember yourself too. Can you do that for me?