[Her WPM is insane, like, you don't even know, mister boomer.
It's not clear over text, but in her room, Trish is wringing one hand in the other after that message, watching her screen while half-turned away at the waist. As if the laptop might shoot flame if she isn't prepared.
She's...panicking, she realizes. Because it sounds like Bruno had made up his mind years ago, and if he sees Doppio or Diavolo, it'll be on sight, won't it? He'll make a liar out of her.
Just like she put her foot in her mouth. She hadn't meant...no, she didn't think about the implications. She didn't think at all, did she? Imagine insulting the man who saved you.]
I was referring to him and what happened this summer.
[The clarification feels paltry at best. But it is true. She could never accuse Bruno of being a fool. Never.
But she is one, and she can't hide that fact. It would be that much more stupid to pretend like she doesn't have an agenda either, then. There's a pause after her usual rapid-fire responses.
[ lucky for her that this is being communicated over text. If she actually spoke those words aloud to him, he'd be shouting back. As it is, though - he's helpless to really do anything other than curse out loud and bite his lip. ]
Are you insane?
[ Bruno has never met Doppio (to his knowledge.) But he's heard about him. The underboss - Diavolo's number one, his most feverishly loyal sycophant. It's a miracle that she could talk to this man without getting shot on the spot. She should know that. They spent days trying to prevent contact like this from happening at all!! Of course, she wasn't shot; she's alive, typing to him, and he's thankful for that, only barely more than he is angry that she would do something so foolish on her own. ]
[She is sorely tempted to shut her laptop and burrow under her blankets after sending that message.
There's no way his response was going to be pleased, but it still hits sorely when she reads it. She's done crazier things than this, hasn't she? It's not the first time he's asked her if she's lost her mind either, but that time she had a plan.
Here, she had the framework of a hopeful idea, and Bruno may well smash it under his fist. But for all her heart flutters anxiously in her chest, she can't be cowed. Not yet.]
No, I'm not. I didn't plan to meet him. It was an accident, but we talked, Bucciarati.
I was transformed, and easily three times his size. He couldn't have hurt me even if he wanted to.
[He was the one who begged her for mercy when she nabbed him by his scruff like a kitten.
Regardless, her responses are rapid-fire and slightly disjointed, ending on:]
[ maybe she's done crazier things - when her back was against the wall. This is her doing crazy things voluntarily. He wasn't lying when he said he wouldn't give her orders or try to control her. However, that doesn't mean he won't have opinions on what she does.
This is exactly what he was talking about before. Something a civilian, not a gangster, would do, believing these things can be resolved peacefully. Nothing is ever that clean. Frankly, he doesn't want it to be that clean. He doesn't want neutrality - he wants both of those men dead and in the ground after what they did to his team. To Trish. ]
You're naïve. A single well-placed bullet could put you down.
He's not wrong. He's not wrong in the slightest, but the blunt words press tight against her throat, and Trish wants to fight him on it as much as she wants to avoid saying anything more.
If all it takes is a bullet, then why is she still here?
She types that rejoinder and deletes it many times before deciding not to send it. She's already insulted the man, typing something like that now would be pitiful. No, she chooses to be completely transparent instead. That's the whole point of bringing this up, isn't it?]
A number of things. Rome, Gold Experience Requiem.
He talked to me extensively about what exactly Gold Experience Requiem was capable of, because it's apparently rendered my father completely terrified of Giorno.
I didn't know about that prior to our talk, but I've had perfectly civil conversations with Doppio before. I told him in spite of where we stand now, I didn't want to be enemies.
He agreed.
It's not out of fondness. We made it clear to one another on that front. But he agreed all the same.
However, I didn't tell him about you. I didn't tell him I hadn't gotten anyone's agreement. I didn't expect to ever have it, honestly. What I promised him is that if any of you threaten them with no preamble, and I'm present for it...
I will oppose you. Physically, if I have to.
In return, he should see to it that my father is steered away from us so the above doesn't happen.
[Hey, he asked her if she was insane before. This? This is probably worse.]
Either he speaks to her now, or in a paltry amount of minutes. She would like more time, or to take it back until she had a better way to broach this to him, but what's done is done.
The walk to the second hill is quick despite the fluttering of her heart, because she doesn't want to be seen by either of the boys, not now. Although she has a feeling Bruno is going to tell them what she's done, regardless of her wishes. How could he not?
The fur on her feet renders her steps nearly silent, and she doesn't knock on Bruno's door, hyperaware of making any noise at all. Rather, she turns the knob carefully, before pushing the door open and slipping in like a pink and white ghost, standing at the entrance to his room as the door softly clicks shut behind her.
She doesn't say anything, she doesn't look at him, and she doesn't move from there. She waits for him to speak.]
[ 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.
[She panicked. She panicked and ruined it. But she can't imagine this working under the table. If he looks this pissed now, she can only imagine what would have happened if the unthinkable occurred, and she did stand between him and the enemy without preamble.
The fallout of this alone is going to physically ache.
But half of this was predicated on cooperation, and the hope she would have it, and she was aware on some level that communication needed to happen. But she also knows...she would have been shot down and blocked from trying if she did bring it up beforehand, which only speaks to how successful this wasn't going to be, but she persisted.
Trish approaches stiffly, hands held clenched at her sides, fingers tightening when she chances a glance and catches the stormy look in Bruno's blue eyes.
She would keep her gaze elsewhere, but that accusation has her lifting her chin, taking one step forward – and then the words die on her tongue as he continues, flinching under each and every question.
What...does she say? She's not prepared for this, her thoughts scattering and fleeing to the edges of her mind as if they can escape this. Fleeing without her, and leaving her blank.]
I...
[One chance, he says. And then what?
She thought about consequences, in that they would certainly exist. Betrayal comes to mind. Loss of trust. Forgiveness withheld. Why should she need that from strangers like him?
Even if they're from the same year, the same Italy....they're from entirely different worlds. She's always going to be the odd one out, even if she tries to be close to these boys. Maybe that's why trying is scary. Maybe that's why it hurts.
Maybe...she should keep her distance, even if that hurts too.]
I still stand by that. I'm no gangster. So I'm...I'm on no one's side but my own.
[Her gaze lists to somewhere past his shoulder, her fangs showing in bared teeth.]
But you're right. I don't have any power over a single one of you. All I have is my word, and I gave it to Doppio because he...wanted the same thing. That's all.
[Her word, which means nothing without support. Doppio...can't be trusted, not implicitly, but he listened to her, which is far more than she expected. It was...validating.
This now? This is terrifying. Shameful. What else can she say but the truth?]
[ She's scared and ashamed. It's not something he feels good about. She's not an enemy; she's not even one of his men, not really. Still, there's a somber satisfaction in seeing her actually listen to his words. He'd been joking about it earlier, her taking him seriously, but there was a kernel of truth buried inside, too. That, and the fact that she falls outside of those prior two categories - opponent or soldato - shields her from the worst of his ire. ]
Do you really think you can be a neutral party when your life is what's at stake? [ Bruno's claws stop; he curls his hand into a fist, or the best approximation of one he can manage now. Still, his voice remains even, flat and cold like steel. ] I want you to think about this logically, Trish. You promise to keep us from fighting by putting yourself in the middle. Suppose that comes to pass - what do you think would happen? You'd be singled out, having turned against us. You lose your allies. That's a boon to the Boss. Or maybe they break the agreement first - then they'll be acting on the same intentions they've always had, except you've let down your guard and encouraged us all to do the same. That's beneficial for him, too. The best case scenario for you is that nothing happens at all. You have nothing to gain from this. Did you realize that?
[ He's sure she didn't. It's not like him to talk so much; Bucciarati is a man of efficiency, favoring concise replies and practical solutions. But he knows - he knows, like both of them said, that she's not one of them. He has to explain the way these deals work, in his world. In Bruno's world, the world he considers reality, deals are not mutual agreements based on trust and good faith. They're careful gambles. This is a game you have to play to win. If you don't play the game well, you and your friends and family die. He knows this intimately.
Trish is a good person; she wants to see the best in Doppio. She probably wants to see the best in Bucciarati and his gang, too. That's why he has to protect her. He stares straight at her, eyes piercing, and after a short pause, he continues. ]
It's noble of you to want peace. In a better world, it would be as simple as you're imagining it to be.
[ but this is not that world. This is the world where Diavolo killed him, and killed Abbacchio, and killed Narancia - where he tried to kill Trish, even here, after losing pathetically to a fifteen-year-old boy. The world Bruno knows, the one where the Boss lied to him for years, about things as big as the drug trade to things as small as why he wanted his daughter. Trish sees another person in Doppio, but all Bruno can see is a snake, lying in wait, speaking sweet words with a forked tongue. ]
It's not that simple. [ a beat. ] Maybe you're content to walk away and leave everything that happened behind. I'm not so forgiving.
[How can she not hang onto his every word? This is a very deep, very thorough look into a world she's brushed elbows with, feeling the knife's edge at her throat that entire week they were together. The fact she made it out of the other side is still something she tries to digest on very quiet nights, when she wakes up after nightmares where people die, and die, and die. Blood painting the walls and oozing onto coliseum grounds and there's no reason she should be alive to be haunted by any of this, none at all. If not for Bruno...
She has distant dreams about watching the position indicator as their elevator climbs to the roof at San Giorgio Maggiore's, but they never reach the top. She always wakes up before they do.
Her eyes lift incrementally as he explains, Trish watching him sidelong, her hands clenching and unclenching restlessly.
And then her eyes widen ever so slightly, and where there's shame and fear and cloying guilt, there's anger too. Mostly at herself. Always at herself. But she finally lifts her head so she can shake it, slowly.]
Don't...don't put words in my mouth.
[Abruptly, she takes two steps forward.
But she's still not too close to him, so for all its aggression, the motion has no bite. Neither do her words, which spill out quickly, haphazardly.]
I don't forgive them for any of it! I hate them. I hate them. What I want isn't peace, it's...
[It's...]
...I don't have anything to offer but myself, Bucciarati. You know that. If that's not enough to stop anyone from getting hurt, then what good am I?
[She says "anyone", but she brushes dangerously close to something she can't say aloud.
Because she cares about them all, Bruno and Giorno and Fugo – much more than she cares about Doppio and Diavolo existing here. And the stakes are different now. Doppio didn't fret about dying itself, but losing his memories. If things come to blows and people die, and lose something that integral, it's worse than simply dying.
[ unsurprisingly, he's unmoved by her approach, not even flinching when she gets closer. He stays exactly where he is, still sitting in his chair, even as her final sentence rankles him. ]
Is being alive not good enough for you?
[ a rebuke. ]
It was good enough for the rest of us. We bled for it.
[ some of them even died for it - something he doesn't need to vocalize. The pain is still fresh for both of them, he's sure. ]
We're far past the point of making deals with them. Besides, they've already lost. They're the ones with nothing left to offer. He should have been the one angling for a truce, putting his life up as collateral. [ he narrows his eyes. ] I would have made him beg for it. But you're too kind for that.
[ it's not phrased like an insult, just a statement. Trish is a normal person. He is not. Taking that man's life would have meant almost nothing to him - the only scrap of importance it would have for Bruno would be the satisfaction it would give him. ]
Do you understand me?
getting the full gamut of bruno icons from this thread
[Trish flinches very visibly, crossing her arms almost protectively over her middle.]
...It wasn't only about me. I know that much.
[They bled for something greater, didn't they? It was about what they believed in, and she happened to be caught in the midst. Bruno would have saved her regardless of who she was, because he knew what was happening was wrong, and that was enough for him. It wasn't enough for anyone else, and if she had gone with the capo Pericolo mentioned originally...she's certain she would have died a forgotten girl at San Giorgio Maggiore's. That was her fate up until the very moment she woke up on a boat gently listing across the canal, bleary eyes adjusting to a setting sun.
Still, it was also a forgone gambit the moment Bruno betrayed the boss too. There's no way they weren't going to suffer for it. Narancia and Abbacchio and Bruno himself all died to uphold that decision.
Is she kind then, or a fool? Bruno has been brutally honest so far, but she wonders if he's holding back his tongue the barest amount, or if her foolishness is a fact unspoken. Whatever the case, she tries to maintain what calm she has left, the temptation to leave abruptly growing stronger the more she wilts under his steely gaze.]
Some months ago...I was taken to a place no one could find unless they happened to be taken too. Doppio was there with me. How do you account for that, Bucciarati? If I'm alone with the enemy anyway, what do I do then?
[The dollhouse was fortunate, because the little girl manipulating the space she'd trapped them in didn't allow fighting.
And Doppio was hardly a threat even when she was still human. But what if the little girl encouraged them to fight? What if it had been Diavolo? She certainly can't fight, although Bruno did tell her she would have to learn to defend herself eventually. But practice wouldn't bridge the gulf between years of experience, and she is and never will be a gangster. What if she can't be as decisive as Bruno, or Giorno, or Fugo? For everything that happened with Notorious B.I.G., it was a mindless Stand with a user long dead.]
[ But it was you. It doesn't matter if it could have been anyone, because it wasn't just anyone. It was her.
He doesn't have time to say as much; she's asking him another question, and his dwindling patience is at odds with his genuine concern for her. If she was just anyone, he wouldn't be sitting here still, entertaining her theoretical (for him) scenarios. In his slice of Naples, his word had been law. Most people wouldn't try things like this. ]
I told you what I would do.
[ he would kill Doppio if he thought he could get away with it - or, at least, beat him badly enough that Doppio would wish he had. ]
But you're not me, and that's not what we're talking about. We're talking about what you did.
[ he folds his claws together, leaning back in his chair. ]
Listen to me, Trish. If you don't want to fight, then all you need to do is not start one. Avoid the Boss and this "Doppio." It should be simple. If they're really so interested in peace, they should know better than to try and broker it through you. It's more likely that the underboss was just appealing to your humanity so that he could get away from you in one piece. He happened to be crafty enough to make it work in his favor.
[ As expected of Passione's former underboss, really. ]
If you're so interested in peace, you should know better than to try talking to the man who tried to kill you about it. I'm disappointed that you'd go to him first. [ the circumstances don't really matter to him; the fact is that she decided to try all this with the enemy when she ostensibly had the upper hand. ] You should have consulted with Giorno if this is something you're concerned about. Or with me. Despite what you may think, you are on a side: ours. We're all allies.
[Part of her wants to accuse him of being willfully obtuse. She knows what he would do – in any encounter where circumstances be damned.
What she meant, what she tried to suggest...was more along the lines of what ifs, maybe, but she felt it was sound to consider such scnarios. What if you have to make an enemy an ally, if only temporarily? Beating Doppio to a pulp is probably well-deserved, but she can't justify doing it beyond some very small sense of satisfaction. It reminds her a little of how Giorno acted when Steve was killed, and how she couldn't see revenge for revenge's sake serving him at all, not really.
But Bruno isn't the type to be blinded by emotion. Bruno was already resolved to keep enemies as enemies, and that's clearly not something he will budge on.
However, it still stings to think that Bruno believes she was manipulated, when Doppio didn't set any of these terms. It was her. All of the decisions were hers, and even if it hurts to own up to that, it's maddening and embarrassing to be absolved of some blame by virtue of naivety. It's proof Bruno really is holding back, especially when after all this, the thing he is...
Is disappointed.
It's impossible to hide how her cheeks burn a blotchy pink of shame, and she tucks her chin in her ruff, winding her arms tighter around her middle. There's a lot she could say, about how a dialogue between either party is impossible if it's not through her, the way Doppio spoke – but Giorno's name has her look to Bruno very, very tentatively, all further arguments dying on her tongue.]
...What are you going to tell them? Giorno and Fugo.
[Bruno is one thing, but he's still a newer presence.
Her slow rapport with the boys...would it dissolve in an instant from something like this? Bruno says they're all allies, but to Trish that denotes standing on equal ground. Giorno even asked for something akin to a sort of partnership in maintaining their life here a few weeks ago. It's something she wasn't about to refuse, but it's still hard sometimes to think of herself as something as influential as an ally when she feels like a burden most days. Even if it's different here, she was a nobody and they were all gangsters, once upon a time. What's changed besides their bodies, really?]
[ The question has him contemplative for a moment. When he'd first read her message, his immediate instinct had been to tell them, yes; he can't deny he'd felt panic as his mind conjured up all the worst possible outcomes of this situation. In those cases, it would be prudent to let them know at once. It wouldn't do for half their team to be caught off-guard by Trish turning against them or Doppio trying to push the vague boundaries they have now. But Bruno didn't become capo by making rash decisions. After speaking with her now, he feels less frazzled. Yes, it was a stupid thing that she did, by his measure - but she seems to be listening to what he says and understanding, and that gives him hope that this "deal" won't be used against her. (Or the rest of them. But especially her.)
He shakes his head. ]
Nothing. [ he folds his hands together, looking up at her quite seriously. ] You're smart, and I believe you understand the situation a little better after speaking with me. I trust you not to make things worse.
[ because this isn't a betrayal - just a disappointment. If she takes this personally and flees to Doppio again to do more dealings behind their backs, then things will be different... but he doesn't think she will. As he said: he trusts her. ]
If you listen to what I said, I won't get more involved than this. When or if you want to tell them, that's your mess to clean up.
[Indeed, she understands. It hurt to have every layer of her thought process peeled back and scrutinized, but it did help to see where he's coming from. Maybe it was necessary to have it happen this way, since she knows she wouldn't have even made a decision like this if she'd brought up the thought when it was still just that: a thought.
But it's a thought she's held onto since she met Doppio at the dollhouse, back to being the pathetic man she met kneeling on the sidewalk in the city, and not the underboss howling for Giorno's blood that he was on the beach.
Now there's nuance to it going forward, and Bruno says...he trusts her not to make it worse. She clings to that hard, bending the edges, and fine, she'll prove him right. She has no choice.
He trusts her, but if he trusts her to do nothing, then he doesn't know her well.
Trish at least lets her arms fall, posture slightly more relaxed when she meets Bruno's eyes.]
Then I suppose there's nothing to tell.
[The boys are probably still being playful towards her on the network while this is going on, so she'll have to pretend like nothing happened when she returns to her room. This is...fine.
This is the price she pays for panicking, right? And for lying through her teeth. Somehow, she finds it in herself to keep her voice even when she says:]
If that's everything, Bucciarati, I'm going back to my room.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
<Zigazigah>
It's not clear over text, but in her room, Trish is wringing one hand in the other after that message, watching her screen while half-turned away at the waist. As if the laptop might shoot flame if she isn't prepared.
She's...panicking, she realizes. Because it sounds like Bruno had made up his mind years ago, and if he sees Doppio or Diavolo, it'll be on sight, won't it? He'll make a liar out of her.
Just like she put her foot in her mouth. She hadn't meant...no, she didn't think about the implications. She didn't think at all, did she? Imagine insulting the man who saved you.]
I was referring to him and what happened this summer.
[The clarification feels paltry at best. But it is true. She could never accuse Bruno of being a fool. Never.
But she is one, and she can't hide that fact. It would be that much more stupid to pretend like she doesn't have an agenda either, then. There's a pause after her usual rapid-fire responses.
Then she sends the following, and lets it hang.]
A few weeks ago, I spoke to Doppio in person.
<bucciarati>
Are you insane?
[ Bruno has never met Doppio (to his knowledge.) But he's heard about him. The underboss - Diavolo's number one, his most feverishly loyal sycophant. It's a miracle that she could talk to this man without getting shot on the spot. She should know that. They spent days trying to prevent contact like this from happening at all!! Of course, she wasn't shot; she's alive, typing to him, and he's thankful for that, only barely more than he is angry that she would do something so foolish on her own. ]
<Zigazigah>
There's no way his response was going to be pleased, but it still hits sorely when she reads it. She's done crazier things than this, hasn't she? It's not the first time he's asked her if she's lost her mind either, but that time she had a plan.
Here, she had the framework of a hopeful idea, and Bruno may well smash it under his fist. But for all her heart flutters anxiously in her chest, she can't be cowed. Not yet.]
No, I'm not. I didn't plan to meet him. It was an accident, but we talked, Bucciarati.
I was transformed, and easily three times his size. He couldn't have hurt me even if he wanted to.
[He was the one who begged her for mercy when she nabbed him by his scruff like a kitten.
Regardless, her responses are rapid-fire and slightly disjointed, ending on:]
Things aren't the same here.
<bucciarati>
This is exactly what he was talking about before. Something a civilian, not a gangster, would do, believing these things can be resolved peacefully. Nothing is ever that clean. Frankly, he doesn't want it to be that clean. He doesn't want neutrality - he wants both of those men dead and in the ground after what they did to his team. To Trish. ]
You're naïve. A single well-placed bullet could put you down.
Tell me what you talked about.
<Zigazigah>
You're naïve.
You're naïve.
He's not wrong. He's not wrong in the slightest, but the blunt words press tight against her throat, and Trish wants to fight him on it as much as she wants to avoid saying anything more.
If all it takes is a bullet, then why is she still here?
She types that rejoinder and deletes it many times before deciding not to send it. She's already insulted the man, typing something like that now would be pitiful. No, she chooses to be completely transparent instead. That's the whole point of bringing this up, isn't it?]
A number of things. Rome, Gold Experience Requiem.
He talked to me extensively about what exactly Gold Experience Requiem was capable of, because it's apparently rendered my father completely terrified of Giorno.
I didn't know about that prior to our talk, but I've had perfectly civil conversations with Doppio before. I told him in spite of where we stand now, I didn't want to be enemies.
He agreed.
It's not out of fondness. We made it clear to one another on that front. But he agreed all the same.
However, I didn't tell him about you. I didn't tell him I hadn't gotten anyone's agreement. I didn't expect to ever have it, honestly. What I promised him is that if any of you threaten them with no preamble, and I'm present for it...
I will oppose you. Physically, if I have to.
In return, he should see to it that my father is steered away from us so the above doesn't happen.
[Hey, he asked her if she was insane before. This? This is probably worse.]
<bucciarati>
We're talking about this in person. I'm in my room. If I don't see you in the next fifteen minutes, then I'll go to you.
--> [action]
Either he speaks to her now, or in a paltry amount of minutes. She would like more time, or to take it back until she had a better way to broach this to him, but what's done is done.
The walk to the second hill is quick despite the fluttering of her heart, because she doesn't want to be seen by either of the boys, not now. Although she has a feeling Bruno is going to tell them what she's done, regardless of her wishes. How could he not?
The fur on her feet renders her steps nearly silent, and she doesn't knock on Bruno's door, hyperaware of making any noise at all. Rather, she turns the knob carefully, before pushing the door open and slipping in like a pink and white ghost, standing at the entrance to his room as the door softly clicks shut behind her.
She doesn't say anything, she doesn't look at him, and she doesn't move from there. She waits for him to speak.]
ooh girl
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.
UGH im in pain, thank you
The fallout of this alone is going to physically ache.
But half of this was predicated on cooperation, and the hope she would have it, and she was aware on some level that communication needed to happen. But she also knows...she would have been shot down and blocked from trying if she did bring it up beforehand, which only speaks to how successful this wasn't going to be, but she persisted.
Trish approaches stiffly, hands held clenched at her sides, fingers tightening when she chances a glance and catches the stormy look in Bruno's blue eyes.
She would keep her gaze elsewhere, but that accusation has her lifting her chin, taking one step forward – and then the words die on her tongue as he continues, flinching under each and every question.
What...does she say? She's not prepared for this, her thoughts scattering and fleeing to the edges of her mind as if they can escape this. Fleeing without her, and leaving her blank.]
I...
[One chance, he says. And then what?
She thought about consequences, in that they would certainly exist. Betrayal comes to mind. Loss of trust. Forgiveness withheld. Why should she need that from strangers like him?
Even if they're from the same year, the same Italy....they're from entirely different worlds. She's always going to be the odd one out, even if she tries to be close to these boys. Maybe that's why trying is scary. Maybe that's why it hurts.
Maybe...she should keep her distance, even if that hurts too.]
I still stand by that. I'm no gangster. So I'm...I'm on no one's side but my own.
[Her gaze lists to somewhere past his shoulder, her fangs showing in bared teeth.]
But you're right. I don't have any power over a single one of you. All I have is my word, and I gave it to Doppio because he...wanted the same thing. That's all.
[Her word, which means nothing without support. Doppio...can't be trusted, not implicitly, but he listened to her, which is far more than she expected. It was...validating.
This now? This is terrifying. Shameful. What else can she say but the truth?]
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Do you really think you can be a neutral party when your life is what's at stake? [ Bruno's claws stop; he curls his hand into a fist, or the best approximation of one he can manage now. Still, his voice remains even, flat and cold like steel. ] I want you to think about this logically, Trish. You promise to keep us from fighting by putting yourself in the middle. Suppose that comes to pass - what do you think would happen? You'd be singled out, having turned against us. You lose your allies. That's a boon to the Boss. Or maybe they break the agreement first - then they'll be acting on the same intentions they've always had, except you've let down your guard and encouraged us all to do the same. That's beneficial for him, too. The best case scenario for you is that nothing happens at all. You have nothing to gain from this. Did you realize that?
[ He's sure she didn't. It's not like him to talk so much; Bucciarati is a man of efficiency, favoring concise replies and practical solutions. But he knows - he knows, like both of them said, that she's not one of them. He has to explain the way these deals work, in his world. In Bruno's world, the world he considers reality, deals are not mutual agreements based on trust and good faith. They're careful gambles. This is a game you have to play to win. If you don't play the game well, you and your friends and family die. He knows this intimately.
Trish is a good person; she wants to see the best in Doppio. She probably wants to see the best in Bucciarati and his gang, too. That's why he has to protect her. He stares straight at her, eyes piercing, and after a short pause, he continues. ]
It's noble of you to want peace. In a better world, it would be as simple as you're imagining it to be.
[ but this is not that world. This is the world where Diavolo killed him, and killed Abbacchio, and killed Narancia - where he tried to kill Trish, even here, after losing pathetically to a fifteen-year-old boy. The world Bruno knows, the one where the Boss lied to him for years, about things as big as the drug trade to things as small as why he wanted his daughter. Trish sees another person in Doppio, but all Bruno can see is a snake, lying in wait, speaking sweet words with a forked tongue. ]
It's not that simple. [ a beat. ] Maybe you're content to walk away and leave everything that happened behind. I'm not so forgiving.
[ Diavolo doesn't deserve peace. ]
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She has distant dreams about watching the position indicator as their elevator climbs to the roof at San Giorgio Maggiore's, but they never reach the top. She always wakes up before they do.
Her eyes lift incrementally as he explains, Trish watching him sidelong, her hands clenching and unclenching restlessly.
And then her eyes widen ever so slightly, and where there's shame and fear and cloying guilt, there's anger too. Mostly at herself. Always at herself. But she finally lifts her head so she can shake it, slowly.]
Don't...don't put words in my mouth.
[Abruptly, she takes two steps forward.
But she's still not too close to him, so for all its aggression, the motion has no bite. Neither do her words, which spill out quickly, haphazardly.]
I don't forgive them for any of it! I hate them. I hate them. What I want isn't peace, it's...
[It's...]
...I don't have anything to offer but myself, Bucciarati. You know that. If that's not enough to stop anyone from getting hurt, then what good am I?
[She says "anyone", but she brushes dangerously close to something she can't say aloud.
Because she cares about them all, Bruno and Giorno and Fugo – much more than she cares about Doppio and Diavolo existing here. And the stakes are different now. Doppio didn't fret about dying itself, but losing his memories. If things come to blows and people die, and lose something that integral, it's worse than simply dying.
It's not worth it.]
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Is being alive not good enough for you?
[ a rebuke. ]
It was good enough for the rest of us. We bled for it.
[ some of them even died for it - something he doesn't need to vocalize. The pain is still fresh for both of them, he's sure. ]
We're far past the point of making deals with them. Besides, they've already lost. They're the ones with nothing left to offer. He should have been the one angling for a truce, putting his life up as collateral. [ he narrows his eyes. ] I would have made him beg for it. But you're too kind for that.
[ it's not phrased like an insult, just a statement. Trish is a normal person. He is not. Taking that man's life would have meant almost nothing to him - the only scrap of importance it would have for Bruno would be the satisfaction it would give him. ]
Do you understand me?
getting the full gamut of bruno icons from this thread
...It wasn't only about me. I know that much.
[They bled for something greater, didn't they? It was about what they believed in, and she happened to be caught in the midst. Bruno would have saved her regardless of who she was, because he knew what was happening was wrong, and that was enough for him. It wasn't enough for anyone else, and if she had gone with the capo Pericolo mentioned originally...she's certain she would have died a forgotten girl at San Giorgio Maggiore's. That was her fate up until the very moment she woke up on a boat gently listing across the canal, bleary eyes adjusting to a setting sun.
Still, it was also a forgone gambit the moment Bruno betrayed the boss too. There's no way they weren't going to suffer for it. Narancia and Abbacchio and Bruno himself all died to uphold that decision.
Is she kind then, or a fool? Bruno has been brutally honest so far, but she wonders if he's holding back his tongue the barest amount, or if her foolishness is a fact unspoken. Whatever the case, she tries to maintain what calm she has left, the temptation to leave abruptly growing stronger the more she wilts under his steely gaze.]
Some months ago...I was taken to a place no one could find unless they happened to be taken too. Doppio was there with me. How do you account for that, Bucciarati? If I'm alone with the enemy anyway, what do I do then?
[The dollhouse was fortunate, because the little girl manipulating the space she'd trapped them in didn't allow fighting.
And Doppio was hardly a threat even when she was still human. But what if the little girl encouraged them to fight? What if it had been Diavolo? She certainly can't fight, although Bruno did tell her she would have to learn to defend herself eventually. But practice wouldn't bridge the gulf between years of experience, and she is and never will be a gangster. What if she can't be as decisive as Bruno, or Giorno, or Fugo? For everything that happened with Notorious B.I.G., it was a mindless Stand with a user long dead.]
What would you do in a similar position?
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He doesn't have time to say as much; she's asking him another question, and his dwindling patience is at odds with his genuine concern for her. If she was just anyone, he wouldn't be sitting here still, entertaining her theoretical (for him) scenarios. In his slice of Naples, his word had been law. Most people wouldn't try things like this. ]
I told you what I would do.
[ he would kill Doppio if he thought he could get away with it - or, at least, beat him badly enough that Doppio would wish he had. ]
But you're not me, and that's not what we're talking about. We're talking about what you did.
[ he folds his claws together, leaning back in his chair. ]
Listen to me, Trish. If you don't want to fight, then all you need to do is not start one. Avoid the Boss and this "Doppio." It should be simple. If they're really so interested in peace, they should know better than to try and broker it through you. It's more likely that the underboss was just appealing to your humanity so that he could get away from you in one piece. He happened to be crafty enough to make it work in his favor.
[ As expected of Passione's former underboss, really. ]
If you're so interested in peace, you should know better than to try talking to the man who tried to kill you about it. I'm disappointed that you'd go to him first. [ the circumstances don't really matter to him; the fact is that she decided to try all this with the enemy when she ostensibly had the upper hand. ] You should have consulted with Giorno if this is something you're concerned about. Or with me. Despite what you may think, you are on a side: ours. We're all allies.
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What she meant, what she tried to suggest...was more along the lines of what ifs, maybe, but she felt it was sound to consider such scnarios. What if you have to make an enemy an ally, if only temporarily? Beating Doppio to a pulp is probably well-deserved, but she can't justify doing it beyond some very small sense of satisfaction. It reminds her a little of how Giorno acted when Steve was killed, and how she couldn't see revenge for revenge's sake serving him at all, not really.
But Bruno isn't the type to be blinded by emotion. Bruno was already resolved to keep enemies as enemies, and that's clearly not something he will budge on.
However, it still stings to think that Bruno believes she was manipulated, when Doppio didn't set any of these terms. It was her. All of the decisions were hers, and even if it hurts to own up to that, it's maddening and embarrassing to be absolved of some blame by virtue of naivety. It's proof Bruno really is holding back, especially when after all this, the thing he is...
Is disappointed.
It's impossible to hide how her cheeks burn a blotchy pink of shame, and she tucks her chin in her ruff, winding her arms tighter around her middle. There's a lot she could say, about how a dialogue between either party is impossible if it's not through her, the way Doppio spoke – but Giorno's name has her look to Bruno very, very tentatively, all further arguments dying on her tongue.]
...What are you going to tell them? Giorno and Fugo.
[Bruno is one thing, but he's still a newer presence.
Her slow rapport with the boys...would it dissolve in an instant from something like this? Bruno says they're all allies, but to Trish that denotes standing on equal ground. Giorno even asked for something akin to a sort of partnership in maintaining their life here a few weeks ago. It's something she wasn't about to refuse, but it's still hard sometimes to think of herself as something as influential as an ally when she feels like a burden most days. Even if it's different here, she was a nobody and they were all gangsters, once upon a time. What's changed besides their bodies, really?]
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He shakes his head. ]
Nothing. [ he folds his hands together, looking up at her quite seriously. ] You're smart, and I believe you understand the situation a little better after speaking with me. I trust you not to make things worse.
[ because this isn't a betrayal - just a disappointment. If she takes this personally and flees to Doppio again to do more dealings behind their backs, then things will be different... but he doesn't think she will. As he said: he trusts her. ]
If you listen to what I said, I won't get more involved than this. When or if you want to tell them, that's your mess to clean up.
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But it's a thought she's held onto since she met Doppio at the dollhouse, back to being the pathetic man she met kneeling on the sidewalk in the city, and not the underboss howling for Giorno's blood that he was on the beach.
Now there's nuance to it going forward, and Bruno says...he trusts her not to make it worse. She clings to that hard, bending the edges, and fine, she'll prove him right. She has no choice.
He trusts her, but if he trusts her to do nothing, then he doesn't know her well.
Trish at least lets her arms fall, posture slightly more relaxed when she meets Bruno's eyes.]
Then I suppose there's nothing to tell.
[The boys are probably still being playful towards her on the network while this is going on, so she'll have to pretend like nothing happened when she returns to her room. This is...fine.
This is the price she pays for panicking, right? And for lying through her teeth. Somehow, she finds it in herself to keep her voice even when she says:]
If that's everything, Bucciarati, I'm going back to my room.