doreimi | IC Inbox | prismatica

[The glass is taken, and very slowly he starts to drink some of the water. Most of his lipstick has rubbed off by now, but he still leaves little marks on the rim.]

He was. Nasty thing.

Mm. Grandma named him Fisichella. After Salvatore Fisichella. He only liked Grandma and me.

[Abbacchio puts the glass down, if only to slowly work his way into sitting up. It's a tough task without much he's had to drink, but he eventually manages to lean against the armrest of his sofa.]

Is he like a painter or something? I can tell that's an Italian name, but I don't know if I know him besides that.

[She hides it well, but she's watching him like a hawk as he tries to get up, both gauging his ability to do it and readying herself to catch him if he looks like he needs it.]

What was your grandma like? Did you visit her a lot?

Opera singer. She couldn't get enough of him.

[He takes a moment before he reaches for the glass of water again. He'll nurse it slowly.]

Tough old lady. Nobody else looked after me much when I was a kid, so she basically raised me.

Ohhh, it's opera. Is she the reason why you like to listen to it, too?

[She remembers his hobbies. It's not quite underwater basket weaving, but it's close.]

He's not the same one you mentioned, though. The one you said was, ummm. Monty-verdy?

Yeah. She'd put it on, that and classical music.

[He smiles tiredly, mumbling against his glass:] Monteverdi. I'd play some for you if I had any of my CDs here.

CDs, huh. Is that the wave of the future, too?

[Of course it is, but she can't resist teasing him anyway, even as she carefully gets to her feet and shakes the wrinkles out of her skirt.]

Mm, is it okay if I go in your bedroom? I'm just gonna grab a blanket and come right back.

[He snorts softly.] MP3 players are too damned expensive. Don't know if you know what those are either.

[Abbacchio nods, feeling exhausted.] Yeah. Nothing weird in there, promise.

[Though once Reimi goes in, it's a fairly normal bedroom, just a lot of dark colors, mainly black and purple. No personal effects yet, outside of the little glass octopus on his nightstand she'll undoubtedly recognize.]

[Oh. He really does look at it every day, then, doesn't he? Huh.

Regardless, she doesn't linger long in his room; she simply retrieves a pillow and a blanket, and carefully closes the door behind her as she brings them back out to the couch where he's taken up vigil.]

Hey. Takotama seems pretty happy in his new home, huh?

[She says, as she carefully starts to drape the blanket over him.]

Here. It'll be a little warmer like this.

Only cuz you made him.

[But he does like it. He misses some of his personal effects, but there's nothing he can really do about that anytime soon. He isn't even sure if he can go back to Italy anyway.]

...Thanks.

Y'know, I didn't mean for it to end up like this. I was just thinking, at the time... that maybe I didn't do enough to make sure people knew how I felt about them.

But then, I've never been good at saying those kinds of things. Not when it really counted.

Awww.

[That's an awww reserved for Takotama, mostly, though a little bit of it is for Abbacchio's sweet frankness in his reply. Bit by bit, she snugs the blanket around his shoulders, smoothing the wrinkles out with the palms of her hands and making sure it lies flat without clumping up or leaving places exposed.]

...I think it says a lot, that you wanted to tell people at all. Even if you had to drink a lot before you'd do it.

[She pauses, lightly rubbing her hand against his blanketed shoulder.]

Maybe you aren't good at saying stuff like that with words. But you're good at saying it in other ways.

[After finishing his glass of water, he sets it down before letting himself relax where he's curled up.]

Like threatening some assholes at the Shitghetti Shack.

[Quietly, he adds:] M'gonna keep fucking up.

[He says it, like a warning.]

Just like that, yeah.

[Carefully, she moves the glass away to a safe horizontal surface, where it's not in danger of getting knocked into. Then it's back to pressing her hand to his shoulder, which she only realizes belatedly is such an impulse because there's a blossoming Chroma transfer beginning beneath it.]

It's okay to mess up. Just try to mess up a little less each time than you did the time before, huh?

[The touch is more comforting than he was expecting. Not just because of the Chroma, he thinks, but because it's Reimi. He likes her; she is strong, and he means every bit of that.

Snaking out from under the blanket, he places his hand over hers, just resting.]

No promises.

...But I'm tryin'.

[At least he hasn't gotten anyone else killed yet, so you know. That's a plus.]

Mmmm. Want to make a deal, then, instead of a promise?

[She regards him a moment, the way that his hand covers hers, the warmth it creates — and then climbs up onto the couch next to him, leaning her weight against him and trusting that she's light enough that it's only comfortable, as opposed to burdensome.]

I'll keep trying to live this life I've got now. And you keep trying not to get caught up in the stuff that happened in your last one. We can do it together, what do you think?

...Yeah. Okay.

[It's a tough thing to do. Abbacchio's never really been good at moving on; his Stand is all about playing back the past, after all. It drags him down, even when he tries to move forward.

It seems like ever since he died, he hasn't known what to feel. Maybe he should just be grateful at all that he has a second shot. Most people aren't so lucky.]

C'mon. [Tiredly, he lifts up some of the blanket.] I'd feel better if you just got under this with me. ...Arnold can get up onto the couch too, I don't care.

Mm, you better be careful what you let him do. Arnold's a bed hog. Give him an inch and he'll take up a mile.

[But she tucks herself under the blanket, more so as not to let all the heat out for his sake than anything else, and drapes back onto him again. It's warmer like this, and she feels the familiar flare of Chroma generation almost instantly.]

He likes you, you know. And Arnold doesn't put up with rotten people.

Better a bed hog than a blanket hog.

[This isn't so unlike when they met, isn't it? Abbacchio seeing this poor girl freezing, so he put his coat around the both of them to keep them warm. Reimi has a blanket for the both of them, too. Sure maybe he doesn't need the warmth, but she came for him when he needed her anyway.]

Well, shit. Can't argue that dog logic.

Nope, that one's all me.

[And it's an excuse, more than anything else. It's easier to rationalize huddling (cuddling) like this when it's supposedly just about making sure Abbacchio is warm and comfortable as he slowly rides out the aftermath of his night's drinking binge.]

C'mon, Arnold. C'mon up.

[And after a minute to assess, up he hops, making the couch cushions sink as he finds his footing, turns around once, and then curls up comfortably with them.]

Shit, I'm doomed then.

[Not that he's even trying to dissuade her from snuggling him, honestly. He settles a bit more, closing his eyes. It's not really a typical thing for him to be physically affectionate like this, but Reimi makes it easy, the Cordis moon probably doesn't help, and he already feels like shit anyway so here they are.]

Hey. If it gets too dark out, you can just stay. ...I'd feel better, all right?

Yup. You're really doomed.

[It seems like this is helping, really. The contact, the blanket, the distracting chatter. He'd really scared her kind of badly earlier, with his anguish and the revelation of how much he'd been drinking, so it's a huge relief that things seem to be finding an equilibrium again now.]

...Until morning, you mean? Staying.

Yeah. Some real bastards out there.

You're tough, but I don't wanna risk it.

Gee, I don't know. I think there are some pretty tough guys in here, too.

[Her laugh is soft and breathy, gentle with the quiet that's starting to settle around them.]

...Hey. Want to know a secret?

Sure, but I'm not exactly at the top of my game right now.

[He does make a small grunt of amusement before he opens an eye to look at her.]

What is it?

I know I can take care of myself, too. We both know that.

But I kind of like that when you're around, I don't have to. So...thanks for looking out for me. I'm glad you do.

[She smiles faintly, slightly lowering her gaze.]

I'll stay over. So don't worry about it.

[Quietly, he reaches out with his hand that had been holding hers, smoothing her cute pink hair from her pretty face. Yeah, he's gonna kick anyone's ass that messes with her.]

All right.

S'only fair. Since you came over, lookin' out for my sorry ass.

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