[ when she arrives, he's obviously waiting for her - sitting with his chair turned around from his desk, one leg crossed over the other. The laptop is still open behind him. Normally, he'd apologize for the lack of other chairs in the room - unsurprisingly, his living space is quite sparse - but right now, it doesn't really matter to him if she stands. Because, suddenly, this conversation has become gang business.

Here he was, interested in her performance, and being (in his opinion) sensibly cautious about her public appearances. The fact that she blurted all of this out to him is either an indication that it's been weighing on her or that she really isn't cut out for these kinds of clandestine dealings. Knowing what she said and did, Bruno's quite convinced it's a combination of both. ]

Come here.

[ he beckons her away from the door and towards him with one furry hand. His voice is cool, steely. The look in his eyes is less so. Bucciarati is angry at her. Maybe worse than that, he's feeling disappointed - betrayed, even. Never would he have expected that any one of them would turn and position themselves against the group - not even Fugo. Certainly not Trish. He's sure she doesn't see it that way. ]

I remember you telling me clearly that you're not a gangster. Maybe you could explain to me why you've decided to make decisions on our behalf, then.

[ he tilts his head at her, eyes narrowing. ]

Or maybe your ultimate intention was to switch sides, considering you apparently have no qualms taking Doppio's if we disagreed with your actions. Which one is it, Trish? [ long claws tap against the arm of his chair. ] Do you think that the Boss and his dog will just roll over for you? Do you think that we will? I'll give you one chance to explain yourself. Keep it short. I'm not interested in a speech about keeping the peace from a civilian.