prismatica | text, un: BellaBelle

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text, un: BellaBelle

Hey, everybody! Wow, this forum thing is really neat. I wish we'd had something like this back home, it would've made keeping in touch with people a lot easier. It's pretty fun to look through and see all the questions people are asking, and read what everyone has to say! It seems like that's what this is for, right? Asking questions?

Actually, I was hoping I could ask a couple, too. One of them is, for people who have jobs, are your jobs enough to keep you sustained just from the Demichroma you earn, or do you have to accumulate Chroma yourself on the side, too? I don't just mean for splurging at the mall or something — I mean more of, with the moon cycles and all. It feels pretty weird to have to just ask people outright if they'll hold your hand to get some extra Chroma, but I guess around here people don't think that's as bold a thing to do as they would back home.

Anyway, I was a little worried about it, so I thought getting a job would be a good thing to do, but boy! The customers sure are something when there's a moon in the sky!

The other question I had was, I sort of want to go back to school, so I've been thinking of enrolling at the Academy. I'm just wondering if it's hard to balance classes and a job? It's sort of strange to get used to having to sleep again! But I really want to see if there are some opportunities to play music, or maybe do some acting, or dance. I used to know some girls who did ballet and I was always really jealous of how easy they made it look! I wonder if it's too late to learn...

Well, anyway! Those are my questions, and I won't be on break for much longer, so I'll check back when I have the chance. Thanks, everybody!

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Do we even have any cranberry juice?

[Admittedly this is the kind of establishment that would carry cranberry juice and nothing else.]

Absolutely there is. Just jugs of it.

[It's true though. There's cranberry juice and like two sodas.]

[THIS PLACE IS AN ABOMINATION]

You really are a bad influence, A~bba~chi~o~

[But she grins a little before checking the time, and then wrinkles her nose.]

Okay, I'll be right back. Wish me luck!

[Out she goes, pitcher of ice water in hand, and after a minute or two of absence, she returns wearing the world's most dead-eyed expression.]

Two glasses of cranberry juice, please. Order up.

[There's a scowl on Abbacchio's face. Like, he's definitely filling up two glasses for her, but he's glaring over her shoulder.]

The fuck did they do now?

Don't break any bones.

[She wrinkles her nose.]

The guy in the chair by the window said I could go home with him if I wanted a tip.

[The glass in his hand cracks. He kind of just expected that maybe they were being weird and sniffing her again, which-- okay, he's not happy about that, but he was willing to let her deal with it.

But he really hates anyone being treated the way she is. It boils his blood more that it's her, because Reimi is good and doesn't deserve that shit.]

Oh, I don't have to break his fucking bones.

[Cup is set down and he marches out of the kitchen, moving past Reimi. His Stand's the weakest in the gang, but he doesn't need one for this bullshit. Besides, he's physically the strongest; his drinking problem aside, he keeps himself fit, never really having stopped even after he was kicked out of the force.]

Hey dipshit!

[Abbacchio doesn't even wait for the guy to react before he's using one foot to shove his chair back hard enough to cause the customer's head to smack against the wall. He plants his foot against the guy's throat, pinning him to the wall, giving him just enough to let him breathe.]

Maybe you wanna tip your waitress right now and fucking leave.

[Turning his head, he barks at the few other patrons that are, for some reason, dining at this hellhole and currently staring:] Mind your fucking business, assholes!

[She's not expecting the way the glass fractures in Abbacchio's hand. She's definitely not expecting the way he ignores the previous notion of dumping cranberry juice onto the guys to cool them off. And she's really not expecting the flash of aggression that has him storming the dining area of the restaurant to go kick around the patrons, scumbags though they might be.

She's prudent enough to figure out that this is not an altercation she wants to walk into, however, and so she stays largely out of sight, only peeking around the door to see what Abbacchio will do — and her eyes widening when she ultimately watches it unfold.

The guy who gets pinned to the wall winds up stunned from the knock to the head; the guy he's with is on his feet in an instant, and it's hard to tell whether he's astonished or angry or both. Regardless, his body language suggests he's definitely in fight or flight mode, though which direction he'll go is anybody's guess.

Fuck do you think you are, starting shit like this?! the guy snaps, tensed up like he's getting ready to try to tackle Abba off of holding his friend to the wall. You one of those Sanguis bastards? You all blessed out, asshole?]

I think inviting a girl just trying to do her job for extra cash is tasteless as fuck is all.

[There's a serious debate in pressing down harder to squeeze air out from this asshole. Instead, he just kicks him down to the floor before going to loom over the guy coming to his friend's defense.]

But go on. Show me what you can do, prick.

[And he picks up a butter knife.

That's-- that's not even sharp-- the guy says.]

It's duller, it'll fucking hurt more!

[There are literal people watching this, this is a scene rapidly becoming a spectacle, but to most of the onlookers' credit, they seem appropriately taken aback when the justification behind Abbacchio's outburst is brought to light.

(What kind of person acts that way towards a waitress, one murmurs to another, who shakes their head in commiseration. Disgraceful, says another, who spots Reimi peeking around the door and offers her a sympathetic look.)

Of course, then the crazy fry guy picks up a butter knife and starts brandishing it, and all bets are off.

Hey! Hey, buddy, calm down! says one of the other patrons, getting up from his booth. Why don't you guys just pay and leave and we can all go home, huh?]

Good fucking idea!

[Abbacchio slams the knife down hard enough that it manages to stick out of the top of the table. His furious glare doesn't really stop as he peers at the two jackasses.]

And tip your waitress!

[Holy shit, we've got to tell everybody about this place, murmurs one probably-stoned patron to another. This is some wild shit, the other agrees, sounding vaguely delighted in the way only a largely inebriated person can.

Once the knife is down, though, the two assholes start to collect themselves, getting to their feet and grumbling with surly looks, and it almost looks like they're going to make good on the suggestion to just leave — right up until the one that had been kicked into the wall decides to rush Abbacchio instead, apparently out to jump him and even the score before he leaves.]

[Already aggravated and ready to fight, Abbacchio sidesteps and grabs onto the man's arm, wrenching it behind his back before putting him into a choke hold. It comes naturally to him, training that's not been wrenched out of him despite however much he tries.]

The only reason you're getting off light is because I don't want to make her feel bad. So kindly fuck off and don't come back.

[And like that, he shoves the man toward the door.

He really needs a drink after that.]

[Welp. That was certainly a stupid idea, discovers the punkass who tried to tackle Abbacchio and wound up down for the count because of it. When he goes stumbling for the door, his friend is hot on his heels, and grabs him and books it out right afterward.

The door slams closed. The little bell overhead jingles.

As all goes silent in Chef Riga Tony's Spaghetti Shack, Reimi peeks out from behind the door and surveys the crowd before slowly creeping out, uncertain but courageous.]

Um.

[Holy shit.]

I'll — I'll be around to your tables in just a minute...

[She says, by way of excuse, to the remaining diners, before taking Abbacchio by the elbow and tugging lightly.]

H-Hey, c'mon.

[Despite his strength, he absolutely lets Reimi tug him away. He only feels bad in that she probably didn't really approve of his method, but otherwise he doesn't care. He'd rather have done this than have done nothing.

So he grumbles wordlessly, letting himself get guided back to the kitchen.]

Yeah, yeah.

[He's just gonna reach under his sink for his wine bottle and pour that into a soda cup. It's not a real good attempt at being discreet but at least there's some mild effort.]

[As she takes him back, she winds up inadvertently hugging his arm a little, which isn't much — but certainly enough for a little blossom of Chroma sharing to warm the connection. It certainly wasn't intentional, but it does have the serendipitous effect of making her feel a little better.]

Hey, listen...

[What's on the tip of her tongue is a chastisement. You shouldn't have done that, it was too much, it's going to cause trouble, that was way out of line. That's the right thing to say, and to feel. That's what she knows she's supposed to say.

But she had to wait fifteen years before anyone came to her rescue the last time someone hurt her, and that was for a lot more than just a couple of shitty remarks, and no one's ever defended her with that amount of overt ferocity just over something like this.

And so, what does come out of her mouth is:]

...Thanks, Abbacchio.

[She says, and sneaks behind him, and hugs him briefly from behind just so that he can keep pretending to be cool if he wants, while she buries her face against his spine.]

[Honestly, he kind of expects her to chastise him. He'd put up with it too, let her say her piece, and he'd be a grouch about it but not really regret it because people like her deserve to be helped, the kind of person he had once wanted to spend his life protecting as an officer. It feels like ages ago when he was that kind of person.

But then, she hugs him, thanks him. And he thinks he gets it a little, based on what she's told him about herself. How long she'd waited for help.

Abbacchio puts his bottle down, the glass clinking against the counter. Lightly, he pats her hand.]

...Yeah.

[It's as close as he can get to saying you're welcome or something better. He kind of hopes she gets it. She probably does; Reimi is a smart girl.]

[It's because she understands that she doesn't try to say anything else. Doesn't make small talk. Doesn't try to fit words to anything that just happened, or make him try to put his own feelings or reactions into them, himself. It's enough that he lets her stay close, just that long, and it's enough that his hand brushes over hers where she's holding on to him. She knows what language he's speaking when he says simply, yeah, and knows how to interpret four letters into volumes.

It's not something that can last forever. In truth, it lasts just long enough, Chroma blossoming warm and smoothing down the anxious buzzing of her nerves. When she lets go, it's slow, and she doesn't linger but she doesn't rush it either, and by the time she's picking up her pad and pencil again, her expression is calm and steady again.]

I'm going to go check on the rest of the tables.

[It happened, and she sets it to rest, and her kindness lies in the fact that she's not going to press him to talk about it. She just understands, and leaves her gratitude humming behind in the form of the Chroma beneath his skin.]

[Normally, Abbacchio is the kind of person who prefers to have his personal space. That's in part what makes the Chroma thing kind of annoying and tough to deal with, but it's okay because this was brief and she's trying to thank him. And despite himself, it is kind of nice, settling his anger which had gone to a simmer.]

Mm. Let me know if you need something.

[Abbacchio watches her go, then proceeds to fill his cup with cranberry juice and the wine he had brought in with himself.]

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