[Outside Fugo's door one morning is an envelope, containing a note as well as a few more pages in neatly-written English:]
Fugo-
I apologize that this isn't as detailed as I would like it to be. There are a fair number I only heard about secondhand, and even more that aren't quite my story to tell. But if you want details or clarification, I'll be in the library downstairs for most of today.
-Kakyoin
[The rest is a carefully written if somewhat lacking list. Kakyoin himself would be in the library as he'd said, minding his own business and drawing in a notebook.]
Fugo-
I apologize that this isn't as detailed as I would like it to be. There are a fair number I only heard about secondhand, and even more that aren't quite my story to tell. But if you want details or clarification, I'll be in the library downstairs for most of today.
-Kakyoin
[The rest is a carefully written if somewhat lacking list. Kakyoin himself would be in the library as he'd said, minding his own business and drawing in a notebook.]
[Oh, all of this is fascinating. And sometimes funny, in the way that Stands are sometimes really stupid. And a little weird at some points, in how similar some of these were to Stands he's run into: especially Hol Horse's Emperor in comparison to Mista's Sex Pistols. Obviously, the Pistols were a superior Stand in every way--
But the point still stands. ... so to speak.]
[After he's wrestled some breakfast together--(an item towards the top of Fugo's private list of things he misses about Napoli: coffee bars; caffè lattes and cornettos)--Fugo will make his way over to the library with Kakyoin's list and a file of his own notes on Stand users. He knocks on the door before opening it, peering around the edge to spot where Kakyoin's in the room.]
Buongiorno, Kakyoin. I received your note. Are you in the middle of anything? [Or do you have the time................... to talk nerd.]
But the point still stands. ... so to speak.]
[After he's wrestled some breakfast together--(an item towards the top of Fugo's private list of things he misses about Napoli: coffee bars; caffè lattes and cornettos)--Fugo will make his way over to the library with Kakyoin's list and a file of his own notes on Stand users. He knocks on the door before opening it, peering around the edge to spot where Kakyoin's in the room.]
Buongiorno, Kakyoin. I received your note. Are you in the middle of anything? [Or do you have the time................... to talk nerd.]
Fugooooooooooo hi is this you I hope this is you!!! It's Suzie, buona giornata!
I have a really important question and I was hoping you could help me! I think you're probably really good at making important decisions, haha, so maybe you can help me with this one!!
The question is! Which is better for a summer dinner's dessert, cannoli or zeppole???
I have a really important question and I was hoping you could help me! I think you're probably really good at making important decisions, haha, so maybe you can help me with this one!!
The question is! Which is better for a summer dinner's dessert, cannoli or zeppole???
Bunoa giornata, Suzie. Yes, this is Fugo. I'm not sure about my decision-making skills, but I can at least help you break down the strengths and weaknesses of each dessert.
First of all, since it's the summer, I assume you don't want your kitchen to get too warm. Zeppole are served warm and cannoli can be eaten cool, so if you're looking for something more refreshing after a meal cannoli would be the better choice.
There's also the manner of preparation. While the components of cannoli can be made ahead of time and assembled as needed, zeppole are much simpler to cook in a shorter period of time. There's also less messy and I assume would be easier to clean up after. So if you don't have much time left before dinner, zeppole would be best.
Finally, there's the matter of taste. Which is probably the most important of the three. But that's subjective and dependent on who you're cooking for. Do you know what Caeser and Joseph's preferences are? (I assume you're cooking for them. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.)
First of all, since it's the summer, I assume you don't want your kitchen to get too warm. Zeppole are served warm and cannoli can be eaten cool, so if you're looking for something more refreshing after a meal cannoli would be the better choice.
There's also the manner of preparation. While the components of cannoli can be made ahead of time and assembled as needed, zeppole are much simpler to cook in a shorter period of time. There's also less messy and I assume would be easier to clean up after. So if you don't have much time left before dinner, zeppole would be best.
Finally, there's the matter of taste. Which is probably the most important of the three. But that's subjective and dependent on who you're cooking for. Do you know what Caeser and Joseph's preferences are? (I assume you're cooking for them. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.)
JUST Fugo. And yes, I remember you. Carlos with the flowers and the pointedly incorrect notes recorded on tape.
What do you want? It's the middle of the night. I'm a little busy with something right now.
[Not sleeping, obvioiusly. He doesn't feel like sleeping tonight. He actually feels more like cutting holes in a new suit. It's purple and gaudy and made his tacky little heart sing when he found it in the clothing store.]
What do you want? It's the middle of the night. I'm a little busy with something right now.
[Not sleeping, obvioiusly. He doesn't feel like sleeping tonight. He actually feels more like cutting holes in a new suit. It's purple and gaudy and made his tacky little heart sing when he found it in the clothing store.]
[As always, this is entirely in French. Excited, capslock'd French.]
you helped bruno make dinner last night right?
did you also help him make dessert?
you helped bruno make dinner last night right?
did you also help him make dessert?
[Oh, this is Polnareff. He doesn't even need to check who sent this to him, he can tell immediately by the capslock.
And the French. Which all of his messages will be in, because it's good to practice. It's not at all because he likes Polnareff and is sympathetic to his plight of not having anyone to speak his native language to.]
Hello, Polnareff.
Yes, that's right. To both of your questions.
Isn't it amazing how well things turn out when you measure your ingredients and follow the recipe?
And the French. Which all of his messages will be in, because it's good to practice. It's not at all because he likes Polnareff and is sympathetic to his plight of not having anyone to speak his native language to.]
Hello, Polnareff.
Yes, that's right. To both of your questions.
Isn't it amazing how well things turn out when you measure your ingredients and follow the recipe?
[There is good and bad news for the house's insomniacs tonight, Fugo. The good news is that if you venture into the kitchen, you will find coffee has already been made. The bad news is the person who made it is asleep in a chair, leaning on the table using his arms as a pillow.]
[...it's been a rough couple weeks for the guy who puppeteered the fucking dream reaper, you know how it is.]
[...it's been a rough couple weeks for the guy who puppeteered the fucking dream reaper, you know how it is.]
[Giorno doesn't like it when Fugo drinks coffee in the middle of the night. Bruno doesn't either. But this past week has made sleep something not only something he can't seem to get enough of, but something he just wants to avoid. He can handle shitty nightmares. He can handle shitty nightmares about shitty things that have happened to him. What he's growing increasingly unable to handle is sharing his shitty, nightmarish memories with his friends and acquaintances.
So he's going down to the kitchen for some coffee. He can smell it before he even reaches the room, quietly creeping down the stairs and through the dark hallways, and thinks to himself oh, Kakyoin's awake.]
[Or not. Because there's no one to catch him at it Fugo smiles, wan and tired but fond, when he catches Kakyoin sleeping. He doesn't immediately move to wake him; instead, he moves over to the cupboard, pulls out two mugs, and pours them each a mug of coffee. He places Kakyoin's next to him on the table with a clunk and gingerly rests his hand on his friend's shoulder.]
Kakyoin?
So he's going down to the kitchen for some coffee. He can smell it before he even reaches the room, quietly creeping down the stairs and through the dark hallways, and thinks to himself oh, Kakyoin's awake.]
[Or not. Because there's no one to catch him at it Fugo smiles, wan and tired but fond, when he catches Kakyoin sleeping. He doesn't immediately move to wake him; instead, he moves over to the cupboard, pulls out two mugs, and pours them each a mug of coffee. He places Kakyoin's next to him on the table with a clunk and gingerly rests his hand on his friend's shoulder.]
Kakyoin?
action; sometime in september but as we all know time isn't real
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silvercrusader
2016-09-19 03:43 am (UTC)(link)
[Dating Bruno has come with many wonderful perks, Polnareff has found.
He's smoking less, that's a perk (at least, that's what his heart and lungs tell him; his mind's still a little grumpy about it). He's gotten the ability to become quieter as a situation merits. He's learning about how to cook things from scratch, simply by virtue of peering over Bruno's shoulder twice a week. He has really awesome makeout sessions with a dude with an ass that won't quit. Honestly, dating Bruno is a bundle of great things, one after another.
They've been staying over at each other's rooms more and more lately. That's not so much a perk as a delightful progression. What it means that Polnareff has been using Bruno and Fugo's joint bathroom a lot lately. He's careful about it, he doesn't get water on the makeup or leave a mess behind. But one morning, he's just finished showering when he sees them lying there.
Fugo's earrings.
Ah, and how is he meant to resist? He's not a thief by nature, but this is what friends do. Polnareff tugs out his own emerald hearts and leaves them on the counter, snatching the strawberries instead. And on the mirror, he writes in the steam:]
Fugo:
taken your earrings, needed a change
will return them by the end of the day
don't do anything bad to mine
seriously don't
-JP
He's smoking less, that's a perk (at least, that's what his heart and lungs tell him; his mind's still a little grumpy about it). He's gotten the ability to become quieter as a situation merits. He's learning about how to cook things from scratch, simply by virtue of peering over Bruno's shoulder twice a week. He has really awesome makeout sessions with a dude with an ass that won't quit. Honestly, dating Bruno is a bundle of great things, one after another.
They've been staying over at each other's rooms more and more lately. That's not so much a perk as a delightful progression. What it means that Polnareff has been using Bruno and Fugo's joint bathroom a lot lately. He's careful about it, he doesn't get water on the makeup or leave a mess behind. But one morning, he's just finished showering when he sees them lying there.
Fugo's earrings.
Ah, and how is he meant to resist? He's not a thief by nature, but this is what friends do. Polnareff tugs out his own emerald hearts and leaves them on the counter, snatching the strawberries instead. And on the mirror, he writes in the steam:]
Fugo:
taken your earrings, needed a change
will return them by the end of the day
don't do anything bad to mine
seriously don't
-JP
[Fugo does not get Polnareff's message. There's a simple reason for this, which also explains why his earrings were left lying around for Polnareff to swipe: he's dead asleep, curled up on his side with his back to the headboard and a book slipping out of his fingers. He didn't mean to fall asleep like this but, unfortunately, bodies have limits and his bad sleeping habits are catching up with him in the worst sort of ways. By the time he wakes up in the middle of the morning, groggy, foggy, and still tired, the steam has long since faded away.
He's halfway through hooking through the earrings he thought were his--(Because whose else would they be? Bruno doesn't wear earrings and Polnareff's been very good about not leaving things in the bathroom.)--through the lobes of his ears when he sleepily thinks that something feels different about their weight. And when he blinks at himself in the mirror, the reason becomes very obvious: that is a heart in his left ear, not a strawberry.]
[He is very offended. Not offended to forgo brushing his teeth or gargling with mouthwash, because that would be disgusting, but offended enough that he doesn't bother combing his hair or changing out of his pajamas before scouring the mansion for Polnareff. He doesn't find him. He instead finds Kakyoin, which is almost as good.]
JP stole my earrings. [This grumpy announcement is punctuated by Fugo firmly placing the earring he didn't put in on the table.] You should help me think of a way to get revenge.
[Here he is. The epitome of spite, in red and white polka dot pajama pants, terrible bedhead, and one emerald heart dangling from his left ear.]
He's halfway through hooking through the earrings he thought were his--(Because whose else would they be? Bruno doesn't wear earrings and Polnareff's been very good about not leaving things in the bathroom.)--through the lobes of his ears when he sleepily thinks that something feels different about their weight. And when he blinks at himself in the mirror, the reason becomes very obvious: that is a heart in his left ear, not a strawberry.]
[He is very offended. Not offended to forgo brushing his teeth or gargling with mouthwash, because that would be disgusting, but offended enough that he doesn't bother combing his hair or changing out of his pajamas before scouring the mansion for Polnareff. He doesn't find him. He instead finds Kakyoin, which is almost as good.]
JP stole my earrings. [This grumpy announcement is punctuated by Fugo firmly placing the earring he didn't put in on the table.] You should help me think of a way to get revenge.
[Here he is. The epitome of spite, in red and white polka dot pajama pants, terrible bedhead, and one emerald heart dangling from his left ear.]
[Gold Experience has been . . . disobedient, lately.]
[Giorno is trying to be better about dealing with Gold Experience. He really is! Carlos gave him very good advice, and he wants very much to follow it. Fugo gave him good advice, too, in his sideways Fugo way. So he doesn't know why he's so reluctant to follow it in reality, but the fact is that he simply does not want to. And, because Don Giovanna occasionally acts like the petulant teenager he is, Giorno is not as good at being patient with Gold Experience as he might be.]
[Still, he's been marginally better. He's let Gold Experience do this one silly thing that he seems very much to want to do, which is: once a day, usually in the early evening when they're reading together, he will go to Giorno's pudding cabinet, pull out a chocolate pudding cup, and hand it very solemnly to Fugo. Which is ridiculous, of course. Fugo doesn't even like pudding. And he's very polite about it, which almost makes it more embarrassing. But it's been happening.]
[And Giorno has tolerated it up until today, when he opened his pudding cabinet and found it . . . bare.]
[He's down the hall and kicking Fugo's door open before he honestly realizes he's done it.]
Fugo! You have all of it!
[Giorno is trying to be better about dealing with Gold Experience. He really is! Carlos gave him very good advice, and he wants very much to follow it. Fugo gave him good advice, too, in his sideways Fugo way. So he doesn't know why he's so reluctant to follow it in reality, but the fact is that he simply does not want to. And, because Don Giovanna occasionally acts like the petulant teenager he is, Giorno is not as good at being patient with Gold Experience as he might be.]
[Still, he's been marginally better. He's let Gold Experience do this one silly thing that he seems very much to want to do, which is: once a day, usually in the early evening when they're reading together, he will go to Giorno's pudding cabinet, pull out a chocolate pudding cup, and hand it very solemnly to Fugo. Which is ridiculous, of course. Fugo doesn't even like pudding. And he's very polite about it, which almost makes it more embarrassing. But it's been happening.]
[And Giorno has tolerated it up until today, when he opened his pudding cabinet and found it . . . bare.]
[He's down the hall and kicking Fugo's door open before he honestly realizes he's done it.]
Fugo! You have all of it!
[Gold Experience has been giving him pudding.]
[Fugo honestly... doesn't know what to think about it. His first thought had been that Gold Experience, in his own way, wanted to think him for the pudding he brought Giorno when he had been so tired and so sad. Fugo doesn't like pudding. It's mostly because of his name: it's hard for him to like something he's been so relentlessly teased about. But part of it is just that he... doesn't care for most sweets. And pudding is very sweet, especially the chocolate kind Giorno likes to hide in his room. But Fugo thanked Gold Experience for the pudding all the same, because it seemed like the right thing to do.
But then Gold Experience gave him another one. And another. And another. And another. That's around the time that Fugo started to think this was all some sort of elaborate joke from Giorno, except Giorno seems just as confused and flat-out embarrassed over it. So Fugo hasn't asked him about it. He's just accepted the pudding, thanked Gold Experience, and brought it back to his room. At first he left them sitting on places like his nightstand and bookshelf, in the hopes that when Giorno invaded his room he would steal the pudding back. Except he hasn't. So his room has been cluttered. With pudding.
Which is why Fugo finally just gave up and cleared out one of the deeper drawers of his desk to stash all of this pudding in. Clutter in his living space makes him feel on edge; putting the pudding away someplace made him feel a little bit better about it, even if he still doesn't understand why Gold Experience keeps giving it to him.]
[When Giorno kicks in his half-open door, the following happens: first it makes a loud banging sound as it bounces off the wall and the second is that Fugo, much like an easily spooked cat, is badly startled by Giorno's entrance from where he's standing in front of his bookshelf, the contents of which he was in the middle of shifting about to make room for a few new additions. His shoulders seize up, the books he's holding clatter to the ground, and he whirls around to face the door. Something's wrong, something happened, Giorno wouldn't just barge into his bedroom like this if something bad hadn't happened.]
What's wrong-- [Wait. What. All of it?] What?
[Fugo honestly... doesn't know what to think about it. His first thought had been that Gold Experience, in his own way, wanted to think him for the pudding he brought Giorno when he had been so tired and so sad. Fugo doesn't like pudding. It's mostly because of his name: it's hard for him to like something he's been so relentlessly teased about. But part of it is just that he... doesn't care for most sweets. And pudding is very sweet, especially the chocolate kind Giorno likes to hide in his room. But Fugo thanked Gold Experience for the pudding all the same, because it seemed like the right thing to do.
But then Gold Experience gave him another one. And another. And another. And another. That's around the time that Fugo started to think this was all some sort of elaborate joke from Giorno, except Giorno seems just as confused and flat-out embarrassed over it. So Fugo hasn't asked him about it. He's just accepted the pudding, thanked Gold Experience, and brought it back to his room. At first he left them sitting on places like his nightstand and bookshelf, in the hopes that when Giorno invaded his room he would steal the pudding back. Except he hasn't. So his room has been cluttered. With pudding.
Which is why Fugo finally just gave up and cleared out one of the deeper drawers of his desk to stash all of this pudding in. Clutter in his living space makes him feel on edge; putting the pudding away someplace made him feel a little bit better about it, even if he still doesn't understand why Gold Experience keeps giving it to him.]
[When Giorno kicks in his half-open door, the following happens: first it makes a loud banging sound as it bounces off the wall and the second is that Fugo, much like an easily spooked cat, is badly startled by Giorno's entrance from where he's standing in front of his bookshelf, the contents of which he was in the middle of shifting about to make room for a few new additions. His shoulders seize up, the books he's holding clatter to the ground, and he whirls around to face the door. Something's wrong, something happened, Giorno wouldn't just barge into his bedroom like this if something bad hadn't happened.]
What's wrong-- [Wait. What. All of it?] What?
Edited 2016-09-23 16:01 (UTC)
The candy at the store is really good.
Tastes like home. I loved getting pixy sticks from this corner store in our town.
We were like... semi-touristy... up in the mountains, you know? And thirty minutes away from this big ski place so it was the only store in town with anything from the outside world.
A lot of it was junk... Montana license plates with your kid's name on them
(Of course nothing had Tonika i'm not even sure it's a real name or a punishment)
But anyway they'd get stuff that was sort of popular around the time
Limited edition coke and candy and I always got the pixie stix because that's usually what I had money for a big bag of
Horrible for your teeth
Eventually I got tired of them but now they taste really good again
Tastes like home. I loved getting pixy sticks from this corner store in our town.
We were like... semi-touristy... up in the mountains, you know? And thirty minutes away from this big ski place so it was the only store in town with anything from the outside world.
A lot of it was junk... Montana license plates with your kid's name on them
(Of course nothing had Tonika i'm not even sure it's a real name or a punishment)
But anyway they'd get stuff that was sort of popular around the time
Limited edition coke and candy and I always got the pixie stix because that's usually what I had money for a big bag of
Horrible for your teeth
Eventually I got tired of them but now they taste really good again
The thing is though I have a point I'm sure of it
The corner store would also sell fresh food and veggies, they were big about sourcing locally
So the honey would come from local beekeepers and the vegetables from local farmers we didn't really import a lot of things
(so we didn't get a lot of out of season things either)
I was thinking about
Cheese
???
Are you with me
The corner store would also sell fresh food and veggies, they were big about sourcing locally
So the honey would come from local beekeepers and the vegetables from local farmers we didn't really import a lot of things
(so we didn't get a lot of out of season things either)
I was thinking about
Cheese
???
Are you with me
[They're in the mansion's library. Or, actually: Fugo was in the library, and then Polnareff joined him, as Polnareff is wont to do. They'd entered into a conversation about music and pianos and jazz, because now Polnareff is curious, and while they'd spoken, he'd eaten some candy. As you do in October, when you and your best friend grabbed like four pillowcases' worth of candy and brought it all back to the mansion.
He doesn't notice anything at first. Oh, there's a sudden swell of affection, sure, but when doesn't he feel affection around his friends? Maybe . . . maybe not usually this much around Fugo, but whatever, okay, he likes his friends!]
You should show me how to play a proper song on the piano. I mean, I got the scale down, so like . . . what's a beginner's song? Something I can learn to impress people?
He doesn't notice anything at first. Oh, there's a sudden swell of affection, sure, but when doesn't he feel affection around his friends? Maybe . . . maybe not usually this much around Fugo, but whatever, okay, he likes his friends!]
You should show me how to play a proper song on the piano. I mean, I got the scale down, so like . . . what's a beginner's song? Something I can learn to impress people?
[Fugo is getting used to Polnareff. Specifically, he's getting used to the little ways Polnareff has inserted himself into his daily life and takes interest in the things that Fugo's interested in. "Getting used to" in the present tense, because some days Fugo still can't seem to wrap his head around the idea that Polnareff wants to talk to him about these things for no reason other than wanting to chat.]
I can give you a few beginner playbooks if you want, but you aren't going to get anywhere if you don't learn how to read sheet music. You'd probably have an easier time impressing people if you cajoled Kujo into teaching you a few chords on a guitar or something.
[Fugo hasn't eaten any of the candy. He doesn't like sweets and he doesn't like the garbage left behind by all of these prepackaged sweets. Every little piece of garbage Polnareff has managed to make has been whisked out off of the table and deposited in a nearby wastebasket, because it falls into one of the many categories of "things Fugo refuses to put up with, even a little bit".]
I can give you a few beginner playbooks if you want, but you aren't going to get anywhere if you don't learn how to read sheet music. You'd probably have an easier time impressing people if you cajoled Kujo into teaching you a few chords on a guitar or something.
[Fugo hasn't eaten any of the candy. He doesn't like sweets and he doesn't like the garbage left behind by all of these prepackaged sweets. Every little piece of garbage Polnareff has managed to make has been whisked out off of the table and deposited in a nearby wastebasket, because it falls into one of the many categories of "things Fugo refuses to put up with, even a little bit".]
Fugo?
I have a question--I know you're highly intelligent but have you ever considered teaching in a casual sense of the term?
I have a question--I know you're highly intelligent but have you ever considered teaching in a casual sense of the term?
[This is an interesting message. Lucy seems to prefer face-to-face contact when it comes to messages. She's also an intensely private person; this is the first time she's openly reached out to him.]
Hello, Lucy. If there's something you'd like to talk about, I'd be happy to listen. As your friend (I hope it's not presuming too much to call myself that), I promise that I won't speak to anyone about it.
Fugo
Hello, Lucy. If there's something you'd like to talk about, I'd be happy to listen. As your friend (I hope it's not presuming too much to call myself that), I promise that I won't speak to anyone about it.
Fugo
[ On a particularly cold Autumn afternoon, a black pot with a lid set on top finds its way to the doorsteps of the Jojo house. A note, along with a bunch of various things to go along with the main dish (sour cream, shredded cheese from the store, oyster crackers) rests atop it, getting misty with heat and steam.
The note doesn't specify which person in the Jojo house it goes to-- and more than likely, it goes to more than one person. But inside the pot is a very thick, hearty chili. There is a bit of clumsiness in its preparation-- some things don't seem as finely chopped as a professional would do it, but the recipe has a respectful amount of spice for most people to be able to enjoy. It's still warm, meaning the person dropping it off had to have bolted in their ding-dong-ditch effort, or is hiding nearby one of the empty houses for the right time to run back home. Either way, there's no one in sight. ]
Thank you all for your kind help.
I really appreciate it and won't ever forget it.
This is one of my favorite foods to make. It's fairly rustic, but... I hope you'll find it to your liking.
-- Tonika
The note doesn't specify which person in the Jojo house it goes to-- and more than likely, it goes to more than one person. But inside the pot is a very thick, hearty chili. There is a bit of clumsiness in its preparation-- some things don't seem as finely chopped as a professional would do it, but the recipe has a respectful amount of spice for most people to be able to enjoy. It's still warm, meaning the person dropping it off had to have bolted in their ding-dong-ditch effort, or is hiding nearby one of the empty houses for the right time to run back home. Either way, there's no one in sight. ]
Edited 2016-11-04 03:00 (UTC)
[Fugo happens to be downstairs when the doorbell is rung, so he happens to be the one to open the door to find a pot of chili on their doorstep. He bends over to up to pick up and Tonika's note, idly resting his shoulder on the door frame and tapping one sock-clad foot behind the other while he reads. He's finished quickly and scans the yard and streets for the girl but she is, unfortunately, nowhere to be seen. He tucks the note into his pocket and retrieves the food and pulls it back into the house without comment, hip-checking the front door closed behind him.]
[The next day, Tonika will receive a series of photographs sent from Fugo's watch. They're of everyone in the house smiling over bowls of Tonika's chili at the dinner table; there's only one of Fugo himself, and even that's only because Giorno appears to have briefly commandeered the watch to snap a picture of Fugo nervously smiling so nervously with a bite of chili held awkwardly around chest-level that one can almost here the what, like this? coming out of his mouth. There's even one of a very full-looking and sleepy Jolie sprawled across an expanse of a lap that's probably Jotaro's chewing lazily on a chili-dipped cracker. The last picture is of the pot sitting in the sink, empty but for a few stray onions clinging to its sides.
It's accompanied by the following message:]
Tonika,
Thank you for the pot of chili you left with us. It was very good, especially since it's been so cold lately.
I can see why it's one of your favorite foods to cook.
Everyone enjoyed it, especially Mrs. Kujo & Buccellati--who got to put their feet up and take an evening off from feeding the rest of us.
I'll make sure to wash the pot for you and can drop it off at your place whenever it's convenient for you.
Next time, please come in and eat with us. You're welcome over for dinner any time.
Fugo
[The next day, Tonika will receive a series of photographs sent from Fugo's watch. They're of everyone in the house smiling over bowls of Tonika's chili at the dinner table; there's only one of Fugo himself, and even that's only because Giorno appears to have briefly commandeered the watch to snap a picture of Fugo nervously smiling so nervously with a bite of chili held awkwardly around chest-level that one can almost here the what, like this? coming out of his mouth. There's even one of a very full-looking and sleepy Jolie sprawled across an expanse of a lap that's probably Jotaro's chewing lazily on a chili-dipped cracker. The last picture is of the pot sitting in the sink, empty but for a few stray onions clinging to its sides.
It's accompanied by the following message:]
Tonika,
Thank you for the pot of chili you left with us. It was very good, especially since it's been so cold lately.
I can see why it's one of your favorite foods to cook.
Everyone enjoyed it, especially Mrs. Kujo & Buccellati--who got to put their feet up and take an evening off from feeding the rest of us.
I'll make sure to wash the pot for you and can drop it off at your place whenever it's convenient for you.
Next time, please come in and eat with us. You're welcome over for dinner any time.
Fugo
Fugo,
It's Togami, and I'd like to talk about
[Oh boy, wording this is Fun.]
some shared experiences.
It's Togami, and I'd like to talk about
[Oh boy, wording this is Fun.]
some shared experiences.
[This is an unusual message. First point of strangeness: that it exists at all, because Togami never texts him. Second point of weirdness: it's so vague. Shared experiences? What the hell? Togami's matter-of-fact manner and blunt way of speaking are straightforward to the point of being tactlessness. There's something going on here. Maybe? Probably?
Fugo spends perhaps too much time squinting at his watch, picking and pulling apart at Togami's words trying to figure out what exactly he means and then fussing over his own reply before he finally sends something back.]
Togami,
I have some free time, so go ahead.
Fugo spends perhaps too much time squinting at his watch, picking and pulling apart at Togami's words trying to figure out what exactly he means and then fussing over his own reply before he finally sends something back.]
Togami,
I have some free time, so go ahead.
[It's another one of those nights. The kind of night where he'd woken up tangled in his sheets and sweat pouring down his temples, desperately clawing his way out of a nightmare. There's no sleeping after a nightmare like that, and so he throws on a shirt and heads down into the kitchen. There's some scotch with his name on it waiting for him, and he settles in, one leg drawn up to his chest.
He's not the only one up. Soon enough he hears footsteps on the stairway. It hardly surprises him. They're a household full of insomniacs; it would have been odd if he'd been alone the entire time.]
He's not the only one up. Soon enough he hears footsteps on the stairway. It hardly surprises him. They're a household full of insomniacs; it would have been odd if he'd been alone the entire time.]
[This shouldn't be happening. Probably. Just a few nights ago, he was sleeping... not good, but better. He went for a whole week-- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven nights, one after another-- sleeping for at least a little while at night, enough that his eyelids were only sandpapery instead of leaden.
But not tonight. Tonight was a dream of sinking. Of drowning in icy waters, water filling up his nose and mouth and his lungs burning for air and finding nothing. In the real world, Shiela had grabbed him by his tie and pulled him to shore. But in the dream he sank further and further into the black nothingness of the sea. And now that he's awake, heart hammering painfully in his chest and fingertips prickly with adrenaline... he can't sleep, won't go back into that dark.]
[Fugo creeps down the stairs, blanket wrapped around his bony shoulders like a shawl, and into the kitchen so he can make himself some tea for his bitter, iron-clenched stomach. He's not sure what he wants: for someone to be awake or for there to be no one. He hates being caught fresh from a nightmare. But there's Polnareff sitting at the table, big and folded up and exhausted looking.]
... hi.
But not tonight. Tonight was a dream of sinking. Of drowning in icy waters, water filling up his nose and mouth and his lungs burning for air and finding nothing. In the real world, Shiela had grabbed him by his tie and pulled him to shore. But in the dream he sank further and further into the black nothingness of the sea. And now that he's awake, heart hammering painfully in his chest and fingertips prickly with adrenaline... he can't sleep, won't go back into that dark.]
[Fugo creeps down the stairs, blanket wrapped around his bony shoulders like a shawl, and into the kitchen so he can make himself some tea for his bitter, iron-clenched stomach. He's not sure what he wants: for someone to be awake or for there to be no one. He hates being caught fresh from a nightmare. But there's Polnareff sitting at the table, big and folded up and exhausted looking.]
... hi.
[It might be surprising to some, how quiet Giorno can be when he wants to. He's quiet this morning, slipping in and leaving a small bundle on the table. The moment he hears Fugo's breath quickening, he darts back out and pads downstairs like he was never there.]
[There are three things in the pile. On the bottom, a black leather-bound journal, its thick paper closely lined, heavy and solid-feeling. In the middle, an oversized folder in deep purple, the right size to store and carry sheet music. On top, a single sprig of oak-leaved geranium.]
[On the inside cover of the journal is written: Te voglio bene assaje. Other than that, the only note is a small piece of paper tucked inside the folder, which says There's coffee for you downstairs.]
[There are three things in the pile. On the bottom, a black leather-bound journal, its thick paper closely lined, heavy and solid-feeling. In the middle, an oversized folder in deep purple, the right size to store and carry sheet music. On top, a single sprig of oak-leaved geranium.]
[On the inside cover of the journal is written: Te voglio bene assaje. Other than that, the only note is a small piece of paper tucked inside the folder, which says There's coffee for you downstairs.]
[Fugo's a light sleeper. Which is kind of unfortunate, as someone who never sleeps with the doors to his bedroom closed all of the way. But that makes it at least a little easier for Giorno to pull off his sneaking project; rather than waking him up, Fugo curls up tighter underneath his bedspread and murmurs sleepy nonsense. But it does start the process. He flips, he flops, he buries his face in his pillow and makes disconsolate noises. He hates mornings so much.
But within half an hour, he's swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and gingerly skittering over his chilly floorboards on the balls of his feet over to his dresser so he can pull on a pair of socks. Once his toes are rescued from the cold floor, Fugo rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his knuckles--]
[And sees a flower, obviously a gift from Giorno. He drifts over to the table. At first, he can't open any of them; rather, he gently touches the petals of the flower, runs his fingertemps against the texture of the journal, thumbs the corners of the folder. He's not sure if there's a word to describe the feeling that's washing over him: it's something between the three points of happiness, relief, and awe, airy and effusive. Because he's only just woken up and has been allowed to look through the gifts on his own terms, in private, he doesn't try to blink away the few stray tears that roll down his cheeks when he opens the journal and reads Giorno's note-- though he does touch his face, and is surprised to see his fingers come away damp.
It means so much to him. Those words, that song, what Giorno's done for him this morning. He clamps his jaw: he knows that no flower lasts forever, but he's going to make this one last for as long as he can. And then he's going to press it and move it to this journal, so he never loses it or sight of the promise he made.]
[Within the hour of Giorno's sneaking mission, Fugo pads down the stairs and follows the smell of coffe towards the kitchen. He's still in his pajamas and hasn't brushed his hair yet, which is unusual and a little comical given that he absentmindedly put his earrings in after brushing his teeth.]
But within half an hour, he's swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and gingerly skittering over his chilly floorboards on the balls of his feet over to his dresser so he can pull on a pair of socks. Once his toes are rescued from the cold floor, Fugo rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his knuckles--]
[And sees a flower, obviously a gift from Giorno. He drifts over to the table. At first, he can't open any of them; rather, he gently touches the petals of the flower, runs his fingertemps against the texture of the journal, thumbs the corners of the folder. He's not sure if there's a word to describe the feeling that's washing over him: it's something between the three points of happiness, relief, and awe, airy and effusive. Because he's only just woken up and has been allowed to look through the gifts on his own terms, in private, he doesn't try to blink away the few stray tears that roll down his cheeks when he opens the journal and reads Giorno's note-- though he does touch his face, and is surprised to see his fingers come away damp.
It means so much to him. Those words, that song, what Giorno's done for him this morning. He clamps his jaw: he knows that no flower lasts forever, but he's going to make this one last for as long as he can. And then he's going to press it and move it to this journal, so he never loses it or sight of the promise he made.]
[Within the hour of Giorno's sneaking mission, Fugo pads down the stairs and follows the smell of coffe towards the kitchen. He's still in his pajamas and hasn't brushed his hair yet, which is unusual and a little comical given that he absentmindedly put his earrings in after brushing his teeth.]
[As promised, all throughout the day, there's no fuss. No cake, no parties, nothing like that. Polnareff does indeed help Bruno with dinner, and he's a very good assistant. Nothing weird happens with the pasta. Even during dinner, Polnareff bites his tongue. He doesn't wish Fugo a happy birthday, although he really wants to; he just talks to him, bickering lightly about stupid shit until supper is done.
But that night, a present is left outside Fugo's door. Just one, because he'd promised. It's all wrapped up, messily but with much love, and when Fugo opens it, he'll find: a stack of sheet music, all made to be played on the piano. The music ranges wildly in type: there's some jazz, some 80s hits, some older classical stuff that had seemed exciting (that is to say, the notes had varied wildly, so that seemed fun). He'd grabbed a little from every genre he could find, and there's about thirty pieces of music in total.
There's also a card. All it says, though, is:
happy birthday!
(see?? no fuss)
-jpp
But that night, a present is left outside Fugo's door. Just one, because he'd promised. It's all wrapped up, messily but with much love, and when Fugo opens it, he'll find: a stack of sheet music, all made to be played on the piano. The music ranges wildly in type: there's some jazz, some 80s hits, some older classical stuff that had seemed exciting (that is to say, the notes had varied wildly, so that seemed fun). He'd grabbed a little from every genre he could find, and there's about thirty pieces of music in total.
There's also a card. All it says, though, is:
happy birthday!
(see?? no fuss)
-jpp
[Fugo's birthday ends up being a relief. When the Campaign first started, pressed on one elbow by Polnareff and the other one by Giorno, Fugo had been tetchy and evasive. I don't want anything. I just want it to pass. Stop bothering me about it. Given time to think about it and a conversation with Bruno, Fugo was willing to compromise. He doesn't want a cake, he doesn't want a party, he doesn't want it to be a big housewide thing, but he's willing to let the people closest do something nice for him. And it's not bad. It's quiet. Unobtrusive. And, by and large, he's happy.]
[Polnareff won't hear from Fugo that night. But if he takes a peep through Fugo's open door in the morning, he will see his messy wrapping and ribbon reduced to a neatly folded pile on his desk sitting next to a slender vase with a single flower. The sheet music, however, is nowhere to be found. That's because it's been filed away in another present and will be carried with him for a while as he works through it.
Eventually, though. He'll get a message. It's a live video feed, at first a little blurry, but then the camera focuses in on the keys of a piano. A familiar pair of hands, with long fingers and raggedy fingernails, comes into view, and lightly strike a chord and roll through a flourish. And then, the notes bright, staccato, and lively, it really starts and it becomes apparent exactly what piece Fugo chose to begin with.]
[Polnareff won't hear from Fugo that night. But if he takes a peep through Fugo's open door in the morning, he will see his messy wrapping and ribbon reduced to a neatly folded pile on his desk sitting next to a slender vase with a single flower. The sheet music, however, is nowhere to be found. That's because it's been filed away in another present and will be carried with him for a while as he works through it.
Eventually, though. He'll get a message. It's a live video feed, at first a little blurry, but then the camera focuses in on the keys of a piano. A familiar pair of hands, with long fingers and raggedy fingernails, comes into view, and lightly strike a chord and roll through a flourish. And then, the notes bright, staccato, and lively, it really starts and it becomes apparent exactly what piece Fugo chose to begin with.]
I have a proposition for you, if you're amenable to an ongoing exchange of favors.
[ On the doorstep of Fugo's house, specifically addressed to him, is a basket of flowers.
The arrangement is the dedicated work of someone just beginning to learn the craft, but looks elegant nonetheless. Some of the flowers are feeling a little stiff-- as in, frosty for their time outside. There are Lisianthus flowers, hydrangeas, daffodils, and finally, a brush of baby's breath. Tonika doesn't address it from herself, but instead, inside rests a delicately hand-penned business card.
'From Kurama's Flower Shop' ]
The arrangement is the dedicated work of someone just beginning to learn the craft, but looks elegant nonetheless. Some of the flowers are feeling a little stiff-- as in, frosty for their time outside. There are Lisianthus flowers, hydrangeas, daffodils, and finally, a brush of baby's breath. Tonika doesn't address it from herself, but instead, inside rests a delicately hand-penned business card.
'From Kurama's Flower Shop' ]
Hey, Fugooooooo, can I ask you a favor? A guy named Dave said you told him about my club and long story short, we're trying to make —
...Actually, there's really no way I can make this short. Let me try to at least lay it out in steps instead, I guess!
1) I want to have a date night on Christmas Eve at Egress! Because this city needs a nightlife and there's nowhere really good to go on a date, so I want to start filling the void somehow!
2) Our sound system is okay right now, but it's nothing too fancy, like you saw back in October.
3) Dave is a DJ! And he said he'd be MY club DJ if he had the equipment for it!
4) I'm trying to get the equipment for it and I think I found some in the Emporium, or at least something close enough to make for a nice time for everybody.
5) I need some help paying the exchange fee on the price tag!
6) ...And maybe with carrying the stuff back to Egress?
Anyway, that's everything. It's asking for three original compositions, so I thought of you and the music store, do you ever write music? And if so, can I get you to write some for me in exchange for something else?
...Actually, there's really no way I can make this short. Let me try to at least lay it out in steps instead, I guess!
1) I want to have a date night on Christmas Eve at Egress! Because this city needs a nightlife and there's nowhere really good to go on a date, so I want to start filling the void somehow!
2) Our sound system is okay right now, but it's nothing too fancy, like you saw back in October.
3) Dave is a DJ! And he said he'd be MY club DJ if he had the equipment for it!
4) I'm trying to get the equipment for it and I think I found some in the Emporium, or at least something close enough to make for a nice time for everybody.
5) I need some help paying the exchange fee on the price tag!
6) ...And maybe with carrying the stuff back to Egress?
Anyway, that's everything. It's asking for three original compositions, so I thought of you and the music store, do you ever write music? And if so, can I get you to write some for me in exchange for something else?
[Oh. Well.]
[He wasn't expecting this. Fugo reads over Reimi's message once, then twice; one hand drifts up to his mouth, but drops down to his desk before he actually bites his nails. Which happen to be painted a truly awful shade of electric blue and are looking a little better than they have in past months.]
1. Congratulations on finding the equipment. Actual electronics are very difficult to get around here, so that's a pretty amazing find.
2. I am not particularly strong but, yes, I can help with carrying it back. Where is the Emporium this month in relation to your club and how much equipment are you talking about?
3. I don't ... really compose. Proper music, I mean. But I do have a few jazz exercise that I've put together to practice; I gave one once to JP to trade for a record, so they might work again. Does the tag mention how long they have to be?
[He wasn't expecting this. Fugo reads over Reimi's message once, then twice; one hand drifts up to his mouth, but drops down to his desk before he actually bites his nails. Which happen to be painted a truly awful shade of electric blue and are looking a little better than they have in past months.]
1. Congratulations on finding the equipment. Actual electronics are very difficult to get around here, so that's a pretty amazing find.
2. I am not particularly strong but, yes, I can help with carrying it back. Where is the Emporium this month in relation to your club and how much equipment are you talking about?
3. I don't ... really compose. Proper music, I mean. But I do have a few jazz exercise that I've put together to practice; I gave one once to JP to trade for a record, so they might work again. Does the tag mention how long they have to be?
[ Sometime earlier this week, Tonika sent him a recording of a lot of music-- in case he needed it, and in case she ever left. A lot of good albums from the 2000's, but this isn't the end of Tonika's involvement in Christmas Cheer. Nervously, she tries to find him this wintry evening in order to present him with something extra.
Something that has to be given in person, no matter what.
So she knocks on the Jojo house door, a thin envelope wrapped in whatever wrapping paper she could find clutched gently in her hands. ]
Something that has to be given in person, no matter what.
So she knocks on the Jojo house door, a thin envelope wrapped in whatever wrapping paper she could find clutched gently in her hands. ]
[Love is not a word Fugo uses lightly. But that's the word he uses when he writes a message to Tonika after all the music gets through: I love it and thank you and I've missed music so much since coming here are a few key snippets of what he sends back to her. And he meant it all very sincerely.
Luckily for Tonika, Fugo's the one who happens to be closest to the door so he's the one who answers her knock. He's surprisingly not tacky this afternoon with his button-up underneath a red cardigan, probably because he has plans to go out in the evening where his usual gaudy colors would be more trouble than they're worth.]
Buon natale, Tonika. [He steps aside holds the door open, pushing up one of his sleeves so a hand is free to motion her in.] Come in, get warmed up, the cold's awful today. Who are you looking for?
[Given the day and given that brightly colored paper, Fugo feels safe in his assumption that Tonika's here to drop a gift off for someone.]
Luckily for Tonika, Fugo's the one who happens to be closest to the door so he's the one who answers her knock. He's surprisingly not tacky this afternoon with his button-up underneath a red cardigan, probably because he has plans to go out in the evening where his usual gaudy colors would be more trouble than they're worth.]
Buon natale, Tonika. [He steps aside holds the door open, pushing up one of his sleeves so a hand is free to motion her in.] Come in, get warmed up, the cold's awful today. Who are you looking for?
[Given the day and given that brightly colored paper, Fugo feels safe in his assumption that Tonika's here to drop a gift off for someone.]
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