Either doing it right or just not giving a shit. Haven't really decided.
But I didn't ever do something like this back in my flat in Napoli. If I can't go back, might as well make the most of it here while I can.
[Which is the truth. This is going to be the closest he can have a home for awhile before he goes to... well, wherever. He's alive now, but being sent back, what does that mean even? Does it mean he goes back to the afterlife, or does he just wake up back in Italy? He has no idea.
But he assumes it's back to being dead. How else could it be?]
[There's the instinct to ruffle hair, because it's what he does to Narancia (who likes it) and used to toward Fugo (who fucking hated it), but Mista's hat is super in the way so all he can do is just cuddle. Well, whatever.]
When I wipe my ass, I'll think of you.
[He's joking. That will definitely not happen.]
Anyway, no big deal. You have more mouths to feed than most of us have to worry about. Even if Moody Blues ate, that's nothing in comparison to the Pistols.
[ He rested his head against Abbacchio again, breathing out a snort of laughter. ]
Yeah, yeah, I'd rather you didn't. The last thing I want is for you to start associating me with taking a shit.
[ He'd already said thank you enough, it might have made things awkward if he kept singing his praises the way he had been. Ultimately, this was warm and he didn't mind the contact. It was practice or something, he needed it since some of his other hugs had been equally weird.
Instead of saying anything else, he just brought his other arm up around to pull in a little more. More contact, more chroma and weirdly comforting. You know, aside from the fact that he was really in a position to notice how stacked Abbacchio was. ]
[Before waking up alive again, he'd probably have been a lot more restrained about the physical contact, but-- well. Moonlacing makes it nicer, and he's had his own things to contend with. Anyway, Mista needs him, so that's fine. He doesn't really mind if he gets closer.
The question makes him snort.] Yeah? I could pick you up and throw you across the room if I wanted. I dunno, old habits die hard; I didn't really stop working out even when I joined the organization.
But it doesn't really matter when it comes down to fighting Stands. Moody Blues is still shit at combat.
[ Don't call him out that way, Abbacchio! He hadn't felt any shame before, but now there was a slight flush that rose to his cheeks as he let out another snort. ]
Fuck off, you know I haven't! I just figured...
[ What had he figured here? ]
...well, I mean, hugging gets you more than just holding hands so I figured touching something else gets you more, right?
[Ugggh. He honestly isn't even sure. Even after all of the rampant boning, he didn't really pay attention if man tit grabbing counted as chroma building. Fuck.]
Man, I mean, if you insist...it's not like I was really asking to do it...
[ DIRTY. FUCKING. LIAR. ]
...but I wouldn't have done it without getting an okay or something. You know, if I'd been asking...
[ Even as he continued down that weird road of denial he shifted just a little, just resting a hand on Abbacchio's chest. That was it for now, even if his first instinct had been to just straight up stick his hand in the other man's shirt.
[ He was quiet for a few moments, just staring at his hand before finally shrugging just a little. ]
Yeah, I guess...
[ Did it really feel any different than touching his own chest? He didn't move the hand that was resting on Abbacchio's chest, instead pulling away just a little to put his other hand on his own chest.
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But I didn't ever do something like this back in my flat in Napoli. If I can't go back, might as well make the most of it here while I can.
[Which is the truth. This is going to be the closest he can have a home for awhile before he goes to... well, wherever. He's alive now, but being sent back, what does that mean even? Does it mean he goes back to the afterlife, or does he just wake up back in Italy? He has no idea.
But he assumes it's back to being dead. How else could it be?]
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[ There were some pesky feelings there, Mista not sure how he would be able to dodge talking about this one. Hmmm.
Weirdly that made him just tighten his arm around the older man, closing his syes and just resting his head against him. ]
...hey, I saw this really cool toilet paper holder the other day, I should've gotten it for you. It'd probably fit right in here.
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H-huh? No? The holder, the holder! It was a skeleton, that's why I thought it was cool. It looked like something you'd buy, that's all!
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You get a picture of it?
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Yeah, man, I just forgot to send it to you!
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[HE NEEDS IT??]
Nice. I'll have to hunt it down.
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Nah, if I have enough left over after I get what I need I'll get it for you.
[ Friends. Good friends. ]
It's the least I can do since you've been willing to help us out so much.
[ There was a loose gesture toward wherever the pistols had ended up, a resounding cheer from them as if they had been prompted for it. ]
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When I wipe my ass, I'll think of you.
[He's joking. That will definitely not happen.]
Anyway, no big deal. You have more mouths to feed than most of us have to worry about. Even if Moody Blues ate, that's nothing in comparison to the Pistols.
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Yeah, yeah, I'd rather you didn't. The last thing I want is for you to start associating me with taking a shit.
[ He'd already said thank you enough, it might have made things awkward if he kept singing his praises the way he had been. Ultimately, this was warm and he didn't mind the contact. It was practice or something, he needed it since some of his other hugs had been equally weird.
Instead of saying anything else, he just brought his other arm up around to pull in a little more. More contact, more chroma and weirdly comforting. You know, aside from the fact that he was really in a position to notice how stacked Abbacchio was. ]
Dude, have you always been this ripped?
[ Way to keep things neutral. ]
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The question makes him snort.] Yeah? I could pick you up and throw you across the room if I wanted. I dunno, old habits die hard; I didn't really stop working out even when I joined the organization.
But it doesn't really matter when it comes down to fighting Stands. Moody Blues is still shit at combat.
[are you gonna make this weird man]
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Yeah, but holy shit, like they're just there.
[ Don't touch them. Don't touch them. ]
What the hell kind of workout do you do?
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What the hell does that mean, they're just there.
What, you want the regime? Gonna get buff, Mista?
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If it makes them look this good when someone's hugging you, then you're damn right I want it!
[ Sorry, Abbacchio, he's saying you've got some nice tits there. It's hard not to notice them when they're just closer to his face than normal. ]
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[This is a weird compliment, but okay?? It's not like he doesn't let them hang out or show all the time anyway.]
What's the big deal anyway. It's not like I've been hiding my chest all this time, idiot.
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[ Just because you let them show, doesn't mean he ever really paid attention to them. ]
I know you haven't been hiding them, but I'm pretty sure my face has never been this close to them either...
[ He let out a thoughtful hum. ]
Do you think touching a guy's tits gets you the same amount of chroma as touching a chick's?
[ Really. ]
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WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT]
I don't know, have you touched a lot of lady tit lately that makes you think that you get chroma from that?
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Fuck off, you know I haven't! I just figured...
[ What had he figured here? ]
...well, I mean, hugging gets you more than just holding hands so I figured touching something else gets you more, right?
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Look, if you wanna touch 'em so bad, go for it.
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[ DIRTY. FUCKING. LIAR. ]
...but I wouldn't have done it without getting an okay or something. You know, if I'd been asking...
[ Even as he continued down that weird road of denial he shifted just a little, just resting a hand on Abbacchio's chest. That was it for now, even if his first instinct had been to just straight up stick his hand in the other man's shirt.
Don't do it, Mista. ]
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There. Settled your curiosity.
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Yeah, I guess...
[ Did it really feel any different than touching his own chest? He didn't move the hand that was resting on Abbacchio's chest, instead pulling away just a little to put his other hand on his own chest.
Compare and contrast. Hmmm. ]
...yours is definitely warmer.
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[MISTA.]
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Hmm? Well, yeah? It didn't feel that different, but if you compare the two at the same time you can definitely tell it's better touching someone else!
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Okay fucking great, are you done?
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