[ After watching (and destroying) a tape of the broadcast, Bucciarati is the first person Abbacchio seeks out—and for once it's strictly business. He has the decency at least, to catch him in the early evening on his way out of the house, though Abbacchio is noticeably staying out of what little sunlight is remaining. ]
Bucciarati, do you have a minute to talk? It's about the position I hold at the Lucky 38.
[ it's a good night to be out of the house, frankly. Of course Bucciarati watched the broadcast; of course it bothered him. But there's very little to actually do about it. Religious zealots aren't the type that can be reasoned with, and going after them would neither save the people who were already hurt nor stop this from happening again, provided he even had the means to do so. He doesn't have the power to make a difference here. Tonight, he has no intention of doing anything other than clearing his head.
The sun hasn't fully set yet, but he already looks a little more bestial from the lack of daylight, fur crawling up his chest and neck and around his cheekbones in a manner similar to Trish's. ]
I'm sure you probably saw the broadcast last night, I didn't get a chance to watch it until a few hours ago — please don't ask where I got the tape, it's already been taken care of. [ That's just the kind of people they are, unfortunately. It's important to keep an eye on goings-on. ] It isn't exactly every day you get to see your boss butcher a man on TV.
[ If he sounds flippant about the ordeal, it's far from the truth. Pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before he eventually settles for crossing his arms across his chest. ]
For the time being, I'd rather stay there. [ He speaks candidly, though he drops gaze and lowers he voice slightly. ] I think the routine is good for me, in some way. I know I can always go elsewhere, but considering the circumstances, [ he uncrosses an arm, holds it out slightly, tips of his fingers slowly beginning to change colour and texture in the sun. ] You said it yourself months ago, a lot here isn't ideal for nocturnal creatures.
Mukuro has never given me any impression that this isn't just who she is, and I think... Giorno feels similarly. I suppose I just wanted to get your thoughts on how you'd proceed with this. It's not just her at the casino, after all, there are others who work there and I'm concerned that they may fall subject to unwanted attention.
[ as if Bruno would ask. They have methods of getting what they need. The gory details are probably best left unknown. He wishes he could say the same for the contents of the tape itself. When Abbacchio refers to "his boss" butchering people on TV, it does give Bucciarati pause for the briefest moment before he remembers that, technically, he doesn't hold that position anymore.
(It's hard to get used to, still - that job was his identity, and he feels like he has yet to find his footing again since he lost it.)
Despite that fact, here Abbacchio is: not explicitly asking for direction from him, but certainly implicitly. He listens, as usual, quiet and open. ]
You and I must have had different impressions of her, [ he says first; less a judgement on Abbacchio, more a judgement on Mukuro. But what he thinks of her now doesn't matter. ] I think it's a sound decision. She's your superior, but she's not the owner of that establishment. It falls on them to deal with her appropriately. You're not assisting her "cause" by working there. However, I wouldn't want her to think she can play a part in a stunt like that and walk away from it unscathed.
[ he does not elaborate on what he means by this. Instead, he pauses, then tilts his head at Abbacchio, expression softening from its businesslike mien just slightly. ]
You know I'm no longer your capo, Abbacchio. You don't have to run these decisions by me.
[ They might have had their methods back home. Often times he was their method. Here, it was a teenage housemate who'd overheard a conversation. ]
She looks after her people. It's her number one priority, that much I know. She's been very accommodating towards me, and others as well, through our changes. Though, this is all... I don't know, Bucciarati. It's a lot. Honestly, I suspect that there's something else going on, maybe it's a matter of how things were before she was here; that seems to influence a lot of the decisions made in this place. [ He thinks of how staunchly neutral Giorno has been in the face of these opposing sides, not out of indifference, but a distaste for their methods. Abbacchio finds he's inclined to agree with him. ] I don't know and I can't say for sure. Not to say that excuses this, of course.
[ He knows what Bucciarati is getting at; that he doesn't need to ask. It's a problem, he knows he's aware of it. And yet. Hesitatingly, he responds. ]
I know that. [ Doesn't make it any less true in his mind. ] Still, I respect your opinions and I trust in your judgement.
[ Because Lord knows he doesn't trust in his own. He'd gone to the casino in the first place on a whim, hadn't he? Without even considering to consult anyone else on the idea, with no preamble and no knowledge about what exactly he was walking into. Then he kept it to himself for a month, only actually bothered telling Bucciarati. And look how it's all turning out now. ]
[ Maybe she has something else going on; maybe it was to protect her people. Neither compels Bucciarati particularly. Yes, he's sure every person involved in that broadcast has a long and tragic path behind them - that's always how it is, after all. Rare is the villain that was born into his ways. Diavolo himself probably had a story. But sympathy is just that: sympathy. If she suffered, then he pities her, but pity isn't enough to lift his judgement.
But that's neither here nor there. They're talking about actions, now, not philosophy. ]
If that's all it is. I don't mind lending you an ear as a friend.
[ he just doesn't want Abbacchio to feel beholden to him. Even though he still very much feels like a capo, he isn't - he won't ever be again. Abbacchio doesn't have a future, either, of course, but the principle is the same. ]
[ Is that all it is? Abbacchio can't be sure that there's not more to it. Bucciarati likely knows that, which is probably why he's making it so clear. He moves on from it with a nod either way. ]
Not yet. I planned to speak to her after you. [ a pause. ] I told Giorno I thought it would be wise to be cautious of who we're seen associating with. But... Is it not hypocritical of me to advise against one thing and then go ahead and do that thing myself?
[ It's probably easy to draw a line of logic here, from the words of a man who actively looked upon those in the police force with scorn for their actions, only to then go and do the exact same thing himself anyway with disastrous consequences. ]
[ obviously, he can relate to that, too. When he'd found out Passione was trafficking drugs, he'd put his head down and pretended it wasn't happening until Giorno appeared. This isn't so different, save for the fact that Abbacchio's ties to the casino are presumably far weaker than Bucciarati's were to Passione. ]
You have to decide how much hypocrisy you can tolerate.
[ he won't confirm or deny what Abbacchio says, because he feels fairly certain that Abbacchio will adhere to his judgement, "friendly input" though it may be. ]
This is dirty business, and whatever choice you make - leaving or staying - it's not going to get cleaner. It's not our mess to begin with. All you get to control is when you wash your hands of it. I'm sure Giorno knows that, too. [ he folds his arms. ] Understand?
[ How much hypocrisy he can tolerate, hm? He's quiet as he mulls it over, letting his eyes slide over to the side. That's the biggest question, isn't it, really? He dislikes hypocrisy on principle, and yet he's entirely hypocritical as a person. It would be all too easy to look past the whole thing, keep his head down and not get involved — or it would have been, had Bucciarati never asked him to join his team in the first place.
It would be foolish to try and convince himself that by staying he could make any sort of difference, wouldn't it? He's tried that before, stubbornly stuck it out. It doesn't work, it had only made him worse, and history tends to repeat itself. Is it wrong to stay out of a sense of duty, because he'd made an agreement? It's… Complicated.]
For the time being, there are others there that I… [ he huffs out a breath, pausing his words while he reaches for the right word. His voice is clearer when he continues. ] There are others I can trust, who are uninvolved in all of this. I'd rather not let them down.
[ He could leave, yes. Wash his hands of all of it, but maybe the kinder thing is to prevent others from having to dirty their hands, too. ]
[ He listens patiently, as always. In a sense, it's freeing that Abbacchio's decision is his own. Bucciarati enjoys being relied upon by others, and is happy to guide them; at the same time, the responsibility is heavy, particularly when it comes to Abbacchio, whom he knows leans on him especially when it comes to finding his way forward. This is hardly a monumental choice, but it's still a little proof that he's gotten back on his feet since Bruno found him - and since Bruno left him, as well. ]
Then you have your answer.
[ a nod. He sticks his hands in his pockets. ]
I think it's good that you have a place where you can be "normal." It's wise not to take that for granted.
[ his relationships with the people there, too. It's something Bucciarati's struggled with personally since he arrived here. He grew up in Passione; he's never had to try and be part of regular society, and he's finding he doesn't really know how. ]
[ Eyes remain fixed on Bucciarati's face, watching for a flicker of any indication that what he's doing and the choice he's making might be the wrong one.
For all his searching, however, he finds nothing to give the impression — hadn't expected to, really — and it's an odd sensation. It makes it apparent for the first time since arriving here that things are indeed different now, not just between himself and Bucciarati, but their group as a whole. It's something he's known on a base logical level, but maybe through denial and stubbornness, it still didn't feel like it was really true. ]
I'm not sure I'd say it's a place to be normal, but it's… Something.
[ What that something is, exactly, remains to be seen. ]
[ he pauses, then shakes his head lightly, apparently at himself. ]
"Normal" might not be the right word. I meant a place where you don't have to be a gangster.
[ nothing here is really normal, even for a group with as skewed a definition of "normal" as theirs. They can spend all the time they like at Hill House, trying to live their old lives, but Passione doesn't exist here the way it did back home, and neither do their jobs. Ryslig barely has a functioning, coherent system in the first place; there's not much room for the mafia, and, as such, not much room for Abbacchio and Bucciarati the way they used to be. They exist with all the baggage of the past and none of the goals of the present or hopes for the future.
Abbacchio (along with Mista, of course) has always been the one most adapted to living in the "real world." It's good that he can still fit himself back into it when the time comes. Bruno looks thoughtful. ]
I— [ There's a pause and he huffs out a puff of air in a hollow attempt at a laugh, no real humour behind it; just an undercurrent of self-deprecation. ] I don't think I know how to be anything else.
[ It sounds silly, he's sure. Though he doesn't have the specifics, he's certain he wasn't part of Passione nearly as long as Bucciarati — which is concerning, for its own reasons, though largely beside the point right now. It's easy to assume Abbacchio would be well suited to normality given his history. Sure, Bucciarati had recruited him when he was an adult, technically, but that doesn't mean he had any worldly experience, and what he did have was mostly picked up by his being a police officer. He'd never spent any of his incredibly short adult life as a civilian. Even before that, his whole life was spent blindly following the rules and doing as he was told.
What he wants is to look Bucciarati in the eyes, tell him just how fucking lost he feels. ]
Anyway, I'll talk to Mukuro. Thanks for hearing me out.
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action, day after the broadcast
Bucciarati, do you have a minute to talk? It's about the position I hold at the Lucky 38.
action
The sun hasn't fully set yet, but he already looks a little more bestial from the lack of daylight, fur crawling up his chest and neck and around his cheekbones in a manner similar to Trish's. ]
What is it?
[ he can guess, but he asks anyway. ]
no subject
[ If he sounds flippant about the ordeal, it's far from the truth. Pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before he eventually settles for crossing his arms across his chest. ]
For the time being, I'd rather stay there. [ He speaks candidly, though he drops gaze and lowers he voice slightly. ] I think the routine is good for me, in some way. I know I can always go elsewhere, but considering the circumstances, [ he uncrosses an arm, holds it out slightly, tips of his fingers slowly beginning to change colour and texture in the sun. ] You said it yourself months ago, a lot here isn't ideal for nocturnal creatures.
Mukuro has never given me any impression that this isn't just who she is, and I think... Giorno feels similarly. I suppose I just wanted to get your thoughts on how you'd proceed with this. It's not just her at the casino, after all, there are others who work there and I'm concerned that they may fall subject to unwanted attention.
no subject
(It's hard to get used to, still - that job was his identity, and he feels like he has yet to find his footing again since he lost it.)
Despite that fact, here Abbacchio is: not explicitly asking for direction from him, but certainly implicitly. He listens, as usual, quiet and open. ]
You and I must have had different impressions of her, [ he says first; less a judgement on Abbacchio, more a judgement on Mukuro. But what he thinks of her now doesn't matter. ] I think it's a sound decision. She's your superior, but she's not the owner of that establishment. It falls on them to deal with her appropriately. You're not assisting her "cause" by working there. However, I wouldn't want her to think she can play a part in a stunt like that and walk away from it unscathed.
[ he does not elaborate on what he means by this. Instead, he pauses, then tilts his head at Abbacchio, expression softening from its businesslike mien just slightly. ]
You know I'm no longer your capo, Abbacchio. You don't have to run these decisions by me.
no subject
She looks after her people. It's her number one priority, that much I know. She's been very accommodating towards me, and others as well, through our changes. Though, this is all... I don't know, Bucciarati. It's a lot. Honestly, I suspect that there's something else going on, maybe it's a matter of how things were before she was here; that seems to influence a lot of the decisions made in this place. [ He thinks of how staunchly neutral Giorno has been in the face of these opposing sides, not out of indifference, but a distaste for their methods. Abbacchio finds he's inclined to agree with him. ] I don't know and I can't say for sure. Not to say that excuses this, of course.
[ He knows what Bucciarati is getting at; that he doesn't need to ask. It's a problem, he knows he's aware of it. And yet. Hesitatingly, he responds. ]
I know that. [ Doesn't make it any less true in his mind. ] Still, I respect your opinions and I trust in your judgement.
[ Because Lord knows he doesn't trust in his own. He'd gone to the casino in the first place on a whim, hadn't he? Without even considering to consult anyone else on the idea, with no preamble and no knowledge about what exactly he was walking into. Then he kept it to himself for a month, only actually bothered telling Bucciarati. And look how it's all turning out now. ]
no subject
But that's neither here nor there. They're talking about actions, now, not philosophy. ]
If that's all it is. I don't mind lending you an ear as a friend.
[ he just doesn't want Abbacchio to feel beholden to him. Even though he still very much feels like a capo, he isn't - he won't ever be again. Abbacchio doesn't have a future, either, of course, but the principle is the same. ]
Have you spoken to her?
no subject
Not yet. I planned to speak to her after you. [ a pause. ] I told Giorno I thought it would be wise to be cautious of who we're seen associating with. But... Is it not hypocritical of me to advise against one thing and then go ahead and do that thing myself?
[ It's probably easy to draw a line of logic here, from the words of a man who actively looked upon those in the police force with scorn for their actions, only to then go and do the exact same thing himself anyway with disastrous consequences. ]
no subject
You have to decide how much hypocrisy you can tolerate.
[ he won't confirm or deny what Abbacchio says, because he feels fairly certain that Abbacchio will adhere to his judgement, "friendly input" though it may be. ]
This is dirty business, and whatever choice you make - leaving or staying - it's not going to get cleaner. It's not our mess to begin with. All you get to control is when you wash your hands of it. I'm sure Giorno knows that, too. [ he folds his arms. ] Understand?
no subject
It would be foolish to try and convince himself that by staying he could make any sort of difference, wouldn't it? He's tried that before, stubbornly stuck it out. It doesn't work, it had only made him worse, and history tends to repeat itself. Is it wrong to stay out of a sense of duty, because he'd made an agreement? It's… Complicated.]
For the time being, there are others there that I… [ he huffs out a breath, pausing his words while he reaches for the right word. His voice is clearer when he continues. ] There are others I can trust, who are uninvolved in all of this. I'd rather not let them down.
[ He could leave, yes. Wash his hands of all of it, but maybe the kinder thing is to prevent others from having to dirty their hands, too. ]
no subject
Then you have your answer.
[ a nod. He sticks his hands in his pockets. ]
I think it's good that you have a place where you can be "normal." It's wise not to take that for granted.
[ his relationships with the people there, too. It's something Bucciarati's struggled with personally since he arrived here. He grew up in Passione; he's never had to try and be part of regular society, and he's finding he doesn't really know how. ]
no subject
[ Eyes remain fixed on Bucciarati's face, watching for a flicker of any indication that what he's doing and the choice he's making might be the wrong one.
For all his searching, however, he finds nothing to give the impression — hadn't expected to, really — and it's an odd sensation. It makes it apparent for the first time since arriving here that things are indeed different now, not just between himself and Bucciarati, but their group as a whole. It's something he's known on a base logical level, but maybe through denial and stubbornness, it still didn't feel like it was really true. ]
I'm not sure I'd say it's a place to be normal, but it's… Something.
[ What that something is, exactly, remains to be seen. ]
no subject
"Normal" might not be the right word. I meant a place where you don't have to be a gangster.
[ nothing here is really normal, even for a group with as skewed a definition of "normal" as theirs. They can spend all the time they like at Hill House, trying to live their old lives, but Passione doesn't exist here the way it did back home, and neither do their jobs. Ryslig barely has a functioning, coherent system in the first place; there's not much room for the mafia, and, as such, not much room for Abbacchio and Bucciarati the way they used to be. They exist with all the baggage of the past and none of the goals of the present or hopes for the future.
Abbacchio (along with Mista, of course) has always been the one most adapted to living in the "real world." It's good that he can still fit himself back into it when the time comes. Bruno looks thoughtful. ]
no subject
I— [ There's a pause and he huffs out a puff of air in a hollow attempt at a laugh, no real humour behind it; just an undercurrent of self-deprecation. ] I don't think I know how to be anything else.
[ It sounds silly, he's sure. Though he doesn't have the specifics, he's certain he wasn't part of Passione nearly as long as Bucciarati — which is concerning, for its own reasons, though largely beside the point right now. It's easy to assume Abbacchio would be well suited to normality given his history. Sure, Bucciarati had recruited him when he was an adult, technically, but that doesn't mean he had any worldly experience, and what he did have was mostly picked up by his being a police officer. He'd never spent any of his incredibly short adult life as a civilian. Even before that, his whole life was spent blindly following the rules and doing as he was told.
What he wants is to look Bucciarati in the eyes, tell him just how fucking lost he feels. ]
Anyway, I'll talk to Mukuro. Thanks for hearing me out.