𝐛𝐨𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐲 // 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬

───── ❝ 𝟎𝟒 ❞ ─────

-

You stood on the curb outside the restaurant, watching as cars drove down the busy street.

You heard the door open, assuming it was the rest of the group, you turned to look.

It was just Jotaro, and he was coming over to you.

You nod in acknowledgement, turning your attention back to the street.

"Mind if I bum one off you?"

You turn to him, he's gesturing to the cigarette hanging from your lips.

"Yeah, sure," you grab the carton from your pocket, opening it for him. "I know how hard they are to get in prison."

"It's a real pain," he agrees. You hand him your lighter.

You sit in silence for a moment, before you start to feel a little awkward.

"You know, I never got to really introduce myself," you turn fully to him. "I'm (Y/N), I work for the Speedwagon Foundation, and I'm an associate of your grandfather's."

"I'd introduce myself, but you already know me." He flicks ash from the end of his cigarette, "so, you have one of those 'stand' things too?"

He sounded skeptical, it made you smile.

"I do. I've had it for a long time. It's a lot to take in, Jotaro, but just know it's nothing to fear. It's you."

He nods. Back into silence you both go.

The breeze lightly blew against your face, it felt nice. Your unoccupied hand massaged the back of your neck, attempting to relieve yourself of some tension.

You weren't left to stew in the silence much longer. Mr. Joestar's booming voice took you out of your peaceful smoke break, letting you know it's time to go.

-

It was a nice evening at the Kujo residence.

Mrs. Kujo's hospitality was second to none. She was extremely kind hearted and thoughtful. She led you to your room, explained where everything was, and let you know when dinner would be ready.

You spent the afternoon resting, attempting to recover from your jet lag. It usually never hit this bad, then again you were adjusting from three separate time zones all at once. You hoped Muhammad was handling it alright, not that you had any doubt that he would be anything other than just fine.

Dinner came and went, and it was some of the best cooking you'd had in a long time.

You left begging Muhammad to take a cooking class, or do something to get his cooking skills on par with Mrs. Holly's.

By the time everyone had retired to their rooms for the night, you were wide awake.

You strolled about the house, or maybe mansion was a more fitting term. It was an entire estate with multiple buildings, fountains, ponds. It was beautiful.

You found yourself beside a pond, laying on a bench looking at the stars. In your mind, you were mapping constellations, trying to put them together through the spotted cloud cover.