[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.
Black and dark-dark-purple aren't really what I'd call a variety!
[Abbacchio is so great. He's mean, but he's always mean at other people and not at her, which is kind of selfish to like, but it's not going to stop her from liking it. It makes her the exception, which makes her special, and opportunities to feel special have been few and far between for a long time.]
Actually...that might be kind of fun. Working out, I mean. It'd help me get stronger while I did it, and there's some stuff I want to try that I'll need to be strong to do, anyway.
I think we should swap someday. I'll wear all your black and purple clothes, and you can wear my pink lip gloss and nail polish!
[She can't keep her giggles back at the thought; within seconds, they go from giggling to full-blown laughter, fueled on by her pent-up sadness. Laughing is a much more palatable release than crying, she finds, and Abbacchio makes it so easy.
Still, after a little while she sobers, and once she's had a chance to think seriously about his offer, she answers tentatively.]
To teach me that kind of thing — you'd have to grab me, right? The way that somebody trying to hurt me would?
Only if we pretended that everything was normal so everyone else gets confused as hell.
[It's good, seeing her laugh. It feels like he's doing something right by her. He knows he isn't always the easiest to get along with, or even a particularly good friend to start with, but he wants to try to be better. For her, and the rest of the gang.]
...Yeah. I would.
Would that be too much?
[He wouldn't want to remind her of the worst night of her life, after all.]
[in before she decides she actually looks kind of good in goth makeup and goes through a brief and fleeting Hot Topic phase]
Yeah. Even when we sent that monster to hell, Arnold's the one who attacked him. That was our plan, though. We used me as the bait because we were both pretty sure he would forget about Arnold.
[But still, that's another instance where she didn't actually defend herself without relying on someone else to help do it for her. It wouldn't be so bad, maybe, to know some things.]
You know, you said "me or someone else" earlier. Who's "someone else"? Are you already picking out my next boyfriend, huh?
It wasn't a bad idea. But it still couldn't hurt to know a couple of things.
[Maybe get her some pepper spray too. He's PLOTTING.]
Oh. [Well, he was thinking about Moody Blues, but she isn't a Stand user so he doesn't even bother trying to explain that one.] Nah. I just figured I wasn't the only one who wanted to make sure you were safe.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Hey at least he got killed in his usual outfit]
Only because I got someone strong with me.
[TAKE THAT. TAKE HIS FEELINGS.]
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[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.
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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.
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[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?
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[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.
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[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.
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[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.
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[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?
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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?
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[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.
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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?
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[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.
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[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.]
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[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.
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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.
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[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.
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[Engaging in physical affection like this is still a little bizarre, but it seems to be doing her some good. So, no regrets at all.]
It's pretty satisfying. Y'know, when they deserve it.
But there are punching bags too. Basically, what I'm saying is that working out can get some of that stress out.
[And despite his bad habits, that's one of his better ones.]
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[Abbacchio is so great. He's mean, but he's always mean at other people and not at her, which is kind of selfish to like, but it's not going to stop her from liking it. It makes her the exception, which makes her special, and opportunities to feel special have been few and far between for a long time.]
Actually...that might be kind of fun. Working out, I mean. It'd help me get stronger while I did it, and there's some stuff I want to try that I'll need to be strong to do, anyway.
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[It's true, Abbacchio is only really nice to like three people. And in his eyes, Reimi absolutely deserves what little kindness he has.]
I can show you where I go, and... well. I was thinking, actually. If you wanted, I could show you some basic stuff you can do to defend yourself.
I like to think that me or someone else is gonna be around to protect you, but that's not always going to be the case.
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[She can't keep her giggles back at the thought; within seconds, they go from giggling to full-blown laughter, fueled on by her pent-up sadness. Laughing is a much more palatable release than crying, she finds, and Abbacchio makes it so easy.
Still, after a little while she sobers, and once she's had a chance to think seriously about his offer, she answers tentatively.]
To teach me that kind of thing — you'd have to grab me, right? The way that somebody trying to hurt me would?
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[It's good, seeing her laugh. It feels like he's doing something right by her. He knows he isn't always the easiest to get along with, or even a particularly good friend to start with, but he wants to try to be better. For her, and the rest of the gang.]
...Yeah. I would.
Would that be too much?
[He wouldn't want to remind her of the worst night of her life, after all.]
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[One of these palette switches will be a lot more forgiving on the person wearing it than the other, and that's what's hilarious about it.]
Mm. I...don't think so? But it might. So I guess it's probably better if you know it might, in advance. Err on the side of caution, right...?
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[He is absolutely down for fucking with people.]
That's fair. And we can take our time about it.
Just... you know. I want you to be able to take care of yourself.
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Yeah. Even when we sent that monster to hell, Arnold's the one who attacked him. That was our plan, though. We used me as the bait because we were both pretty sure he would forget about Arnold.
[But still, that's another instance where she didn't actually defend herself without relying on someone else to help do it for her. It wouldn't be so bad, maybe, to know some things.]
You know, you said "me or someone else" earlier. Who's "someone else"? Are you already picking out my next boyfriend, huh?
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[Maybe get her some pepper spray too. He's PLOTTING.]
Oh. [Well, he was thinking about Moody Blues, but she isn't a Stand user so he doesn't even bother trying to explain that one.] Nah. I just figured I wasn't the only one who wanted to make sure you were safe.
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