[And indeed, in a short amount of time, she can be found idling around in the shopping district, wearing a black and white polka-dot dress with black boots and a red sweater over — nary an ounce of pink to be found.]
[Abbacchio is wearing about one might expect of him: a fishnet sweater that leaves nothing to the imagination, leather pants, and heeled boots. The sticking out feature, really, being the horrid scar on his abdomen just below his chest but it's fine it's totally fine you guys.]
Hey.
[The different colors throw him off, but it's good to experiment. He pauses, then holds out his hand to Reimi, slowly getting more comfortable in having contact with her. She knows some of the worst in him now and still wants to be his friend, so. You know.]
Yeah...I wore the same thing for a really long time, so. It's an easy thing to start with, you know? Trying new things, I mean.
[Her eyes roam over his attire, as she silently and inwardly debates the merits of a sweater made out of fishnet, and then finally she smiles ruefully as she takes his hand and laces their fingers together almost automatically.
It's a little familiar, but hey. It's not like it's unheard-of, and besides, they'll generate more Chroma that way.]
Yeah, I guess there would be real limited wardrobe as a ghost, huh.
[he'd wanna die all over again
Holding hands casually with his friend is weird even for him. It's not even the strangest culturally speaking, it's just-- him, who's usually been strict about his personal space unless it's a chosen few, and he can count those people on one hand (it's like three people including Reimi so it is not a long list).]
I thought to myself that I can't change what happened. So I have to live with that.
Which is kinda ironic, honestly. [Since, you know, the scar is from what killed him.]
I got killed in my pajamas, so. Can you imagine spending fifteen years in your pajamas?
[actually that sounds kind of like heaven but
anyway let's also not ask why she died with shoes on like what, did she stop to slip on her cute-ass sandals before fleeing for her life from the murderer in her house? come on.]
Hey, Abbacchio, you sounded pretty cool when you said that, you know. What are you, some kind of tough guy?
[OH WHAT THE FUCK, THAT'S CUTE. this is proof positive why she sought out abbacchio, she knew he'd cheer her up and make her feel better (said one person, ever, in their life).]
...Maybe I'll be brave, too, and wear something with an open back. Or at least try it on, maybe...
[She plucks absently at her sweater, looking vaguely dissatisfied.]
It's pretty ugly, though. I'm kind of embarrassed by it.
Yeah, I had to keep my hair short and wear the uniform. Everything else, though, nobody could do anything about. Some guys tried to give me some shit about it, but it's funny how fast people stop talking after you kick their ass.
[He's a tall buff man, and no normal person could really do anything about him physically.]
...My partner didn't care, though. Said he liked it.
He never lost his way. ...He really didn't deserve... you know.
[It's a weird, uncomfortable subject, but. Well. He's avoided talking about it, and that hasn't helped. After reliving that night so many times, maybe this is the only way to deal. He doesn't know. He's bad at coping.]
[She does. And ever since she first heard about him, and the sacrifice he'd made for Abbacchio, she's found the subject a little uncomfortable herself. Not just because she knows it's touchy, but because of how it analogizes to her own situation — with herself in the role of his partner.
Pretty apt, she thinks inwardly, considering where her question is about to go.]
If he came here someday, and he'd...forgotten you. What would you do?
[She says, immediately, which in and of itself answers the question of whether she wants to talk about it, probably.]
I didn't know he didn't remember. So I was teasing him about it, and finally he told me. He had to tell me a few times, haha, I didn't even believe him at first. I thought he was just being mean.
[She kicks at the ground, scuffing the toe of her boot against it.]
I'm really not mad. I know it's not his fault. I just...imagine if all of a sudden you found out the sky was yellow, and it'd always been yellow, when all along you thought it was blue. It shakes you up a little, right? Because you thought you knew something, but then it turns out you didn't.
If he forgot me-- I don't think I'd be mad. I'd think to myself at first that he deserved to forget about me. But I'd be upset, I'd probably drink and try to pass out.
[He knows himself. Abbacchio is trying harder, but he knows his own shortcomings too well.]
It's okay to be upset. Just, the way I handle things is that I don't. So you're already a step ahead of me.
No. I don't think there's any chance at all. But — it's not like he forgot me completely. He just doesn't remember some things I do. They're important things to me, but they wouldn't be important to everyone.
[She sighs.]
It just feels like it's one more thing the guy who killed me took away from me. It doesn't feel fair.
[There's a pause, then he holds out his other arm, in case she wants a hug. Because it feels right for that right now, honestly.]
It's not fair at all. And you can be mad as much as you want to be about it. Or as sad as you want.
[It doesn't hurt that Reimi isn't self-destructive as he is about handling this kind of thing. He could barely handle being alive again at first, and from there he almost didn't know how to process it-- and it got worse after reliving his death through the syncing machines to find out who he was compatible with.
Reimi isn't like him. She's a lot stronger. But sometimes, it helps to be reminded to be given permission to be hurt or angry; Bucciarati is the kind of guy that forgets to allow himself that. Reimi, he thinks, might be a little like that too.]
[She looks down, then back up again, then thinks — and then steps into the hug he's inviting her to accept, cheek pressed against his chest.]
Except that I don't really want to, either. I'm so tired of feeling lonely. That's why I thought, maybe I could just distract myself for a while, so I don't have to think about it.
[With his free arm, he loops it around Reimi's shoulders, as if somehow he's going to successfully protect her from anything. He can't chase away her hurt, or take it back -- but hell if he isn't going to try to support her.]
Then we're gonna do that. Go shopping, go wild. Get you some nice clothes, make up if you want.
And hey, if you still feel like crying after, that's fine. Or if you feel like punching something, we can do something about that too.
...Not punching an actual guy, probably, but I'm sure we could find one.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
you on a mission for something specific?
no subject
Something cute, I guess? I want to spoil myself a little. Maybe a lot.
no subject
you know for being a good boy
fuck it
let's spoil you a lot
i'm ready to hug the shit out of you
no subject
[And indeed, in a short amount of time, she can be found idling around in the shopping district, wearing a black and white polka-dot dress with black boots and a red sweater over — nary an ounce of pink to be found.]
no subject
Hey.
[The different colors throw him off, but it's good to experiment. He pauses, then holds out his hand to Reimi, slowly getting more comfortable in having contact with her. She knows some of the worst in him now and still wants to be his friend, so. You know.]
I like the change.
no subject
[Her eyes roam over his attire, as she silently and inwardly debates the merits of a sweater made out of fishnet, and then finally she smiles ruefully as she takes his hand and laces their fingers together almost automatically.
It's a little familiar, but hey. It's not like it's unheard-of, and besides, they'll generate more Chroma that way.]
You've braver than I am, today.
no subject
[he'd wanna die all over again
Holding hands casually with his friend is weird even for him. It's not even the strangest culturally speaking, it's just-- him, who's usually been strict about his personal space unless it's a chosen few, and he can count those people on one hand (it's like three people including Reimi so it is not a long list).]
I thought to myself that I can't change what happened. So I have to live with that.
Which is kinda ironic, honestly. [Since, you know, the scar is from what killed him.]
no subject
[actually that sounds kind of like heaven but
anyway let's also not ask why she died with shoes on like what, did she stop to slip on her cute-ass sandals before fleeing for her life from the murderer in her house? come on.]
Hey, Abbacchio, you sounded pretty cool when you said that, you know. What are you, some kind of tough guy?
[She teases, grinning faintly.]
no subject
[Hey at least he got killed in his usual outfit]
Only because I got someone strong with me.
[TAKE THAT. TAKE HIS FEELINGS.]
no subject
[OH WHAT THE FUCK, THAT'S CUTE. this is proof positive why she sought out abbacchio, she knew he'd cheer her up and make her feel better (said one person, ever, in their life).]
...Maybe I'll be brave, too, and wear something with an open back. Or at least try it on, maybe...
[She plucks absently at her sweater, looking vaguely dissatisfied.]
It's pretty ugly, though. I'm kind of embarrassed by it.
no subject
Don't limit yourself. You wanna try something on, you do it.
...Even before things went to shit on the force, I did want I wanted, even if it wasn't seen as normal or typical. So go with your gut.
And we'll ditch the sweater whenever you're fed up with it.
no subject
[She squeezes his hand, feeling the Chroma flow and her bracelet counter tick ever upward. What a racket.]
Did anybody ever bother you about it?
no subject
[He's a tall buff man, and no normal person could really do anything about him physically.]
...My partner didn't care, though. Said he liked it.
no subject
[Presumably, an officer of the law would have eyes. Therefore, of course he would think Abbacchio would look good.]
...Hey, can I ask you something? It's kind of personal, but it's just a hypothetical question. It's not real or anything.
no subject
[It's a weird, uncomfortable subject, but. Well. He's avoided talking about it, and that hasn't helped. After reliving that night so many times, maybe this is the only way to deal. He doesn't know. He's bad at coping.]
Ask. I won't get mad.
no subject
[She does. And ever since she first heard about him, and the sacrifice he'd made for Abbacchio, she's found the subject a little uncomfortable herself. Not just because she knows it's touchy, but because of how it analogizes to her own situation — with herself in the role of his partner.
Pretty apt, she thinks inwardly, considering where her question is about to go.]
If he came here someday, and he'd...forgotten you. What would you do?
no subject
He hesitates at the question, then grits his teeth because-- because he knows exactly what he'd do.]
Nothing healthy. But I'm guessing that's something that's happened to you.
...Wanna talk about it?
no subject
[She says, immediately, which in and of itself answers the question of whether she wants to talk about it, probably.]
I didn't know he didn't remember. So I was teasing him about it, and finally he told me. He had to tell me a few times, haha, I didn't even believe him at first. I thought he was just being mean.
[She kicks at the ground, scuffing the toe of her boot against it.]
I'm really not mad. I know it's not his fault. I just...imagine if all of a sudden you found out the sky was yellow, and it'd always been yellow, when all along you thought it was blue. It shakes you up a little, right? Because you thought you knew something, but then it turns out you didn't.
no subject
If he forgot me-- I don't think I'd be mad. I'd think to myself at first that he deserved to forget about me. But I'd be upset, I'd probably drink and try to pass out.
[He knows himself. Abbacchio is trying harder, but he knows his own shortcomings too well.]
It's okay to be upset. Just, the way I handle things is that I don't. So you're already a step ahead of me.
So I'm thinking some therapeutic shopping's fine.
You think there's any chance he'll remember?
no subject
[She sighs.]
It just feels like it's one more thing the guy who killed me took away from me. It doesn't feel fair.
no subject
[There's a pause, then he holds out his other arm, in case she wants a hug. Because it feels right for that right now, honestly.]
It's not fair at all. And you can be mad as much as you want to be about it. Or as sad as you want.
[It doesn't hurt that Reimi isn't self-destructive as he is about handling this kind of thing. He could barely handle being alive again at first, and from there he almost didn't know how to process it-- and it got worse after reliving his death through the syncing machines to find out who he was compatible with.
Reimi isn't like him. She's a lot stronger. But sometimes, it helps to be reminded to be given permission to be hurt or angry; Bucciarati is the kind of guy that forgets to allow himself that. Reimi, he thinks, might be a little like that too.]
no subject
[She looks down, then back up again, then thinks — and then steps into the hug he's inviting her to accept, cheek pressed against his chest.]
Except that I don't really want to, either. I'm so tired of feeling lonely. That's why I thought, maybe I could just distract myself for a while, so I don't have to think about it.
no subject
Then we're gonna do that. Go shopping, go wild. Get you some nice clothes, make up if you want.
And hey, if you still feel like crying after, that's fine. Or if you feel like punching something, we can do something about that too.
...Not punching an actual guy, probably, but I'm sure we could find one.
no subject
[It's a weaker attempt at humor, but at least she's trying, even as she settles against him and soaks in the sensation. Public venue be damned.]
You know, I don't think I've ever punched anybody before. Definitely not an actual guy.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)