[It takes him just a moment too long to recognize him. Just a few seconds of mild horror at the spiderish creature before him, with too many arms and eyes, moving in a terrifying too-quick way that makes Polnareff's heart pound -- but oh. Oh, because he knows that expression. How could he not? He's lost count of how many times has that look been directed at him these past two months. So many funerals, so many little details that a fifteen year old ought not to have to deal with-- Don Giovanna is nothing but put together and precise in his rulings, but it's Polnareff who gets to see the boy underneath.]
Giorno--
[Who did this to you? But even as he thinks it, he swallows the question down-- he will not make him feel worse about his appearance. He's crying, and god, Polnareff can't blame him-- who wouldn't cry, mutilated so drastically? Polnareff reaches a hand, a silent entreaty for his boss to come closer.]
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Giorno--
[Who did this to you? But even as he thinks it, he swallows the question down-- he will not make him feel worse about his appearance. He's crying, and god, Polnareff can't blame him-- who wouldn't cry, mutilated so drastically? Polnareff reaches a hand, a silent entreaty for his boss to come closer.]