Gold And Sapphires (JJBA)

Baby I'm a Star

   Dessert drags out a sluggish pace, movements dulled by warmth and full stomachs. Heat cranking, sweet desserts, the sound of a mounting storm whipping outside is drowned by chatter. Everything has slowed—but that's not to say that talking has slowed, just that progression of events has. No threats, initial fears faded into obscurity, the family is at ease, and that same ease is reflected into the form of Giorno's very own bodyguard.

Still, Giorno doesn't let his senses dull. Knives sharp, if not needed. He thinks.

Giorno can hardly hear the surrounding clamor above the blood behind his ears and the tide of his thoughts. All scattered and miscellaneous and fleeting in a way he hates.

At some point someone breaks out a monopoly board and he takes to it like a fish to water. He helps set up the board, everything but Shizuka's abandoned cookie bowl moved—that kept because Shizuka's too full and now it's free hand-outs. Giorno plays monopoly. And it's not even entirely to get out of his own head. He actually likes monopoly.

Mista is not hesitant to prod this fact as he sulks in his bankruptcy. "Y'know monopoly was like, actually made to be boring. To simulate to painful slog of capitalism—Fugo said so."

Giorno chuckles lightly. He gathers up his two five-hundred bills and hands them to Jolyne, who had insisted on being banker. "Jolyne, a hotel, please." Then he shifts his gaze to Mista and allows a little smirk. "Mista, it reflects badly to act a sore loser."

The man in question whines. "Monopoly's boring anyway. And for boring old capitalists." He gives the remaining players—Jotaro, Joseph, Lisa Lisa, Shizuka—and especially Giorno, a stink eye. "Ew."

The blonde reaches across the coffee table to take the piece—contemplates taking a cookie on his way back, decides against it. Lightly pushes the companion hotel onto Parkway. "Mista, it's not my fault you bankrupted before the fifteen minute mark of a monopoly game."

"You put a hotel on Boardwalk in the first fifteen minutes!" Mista looks absolutely indignant. Shizuka giggles from across the coffee-table. "Who even does that?"

Giorno shrugs smugly. Passes the dice to Jotaro. Watches in utter delight as he lands on Pennsylvania Avenue and has to pay a total $1400. High risk, high reward, after all. Giorno decided that's how he'd play the game, so that's how he does. He'd initially teetered on the edge of bankruptcy, but now he's swimming in wealth.

It takes a minute or two for Jotaro to figure out the mortgaging, but he eventually forks the money up and hands it over with an almost-frown. Giorno distributes it into his stash and smiles—but Jotaro's still looking at him. Almost frowning. Giorno's skin pricks. He feels the shift of air and the scald of scrutiny. He checks over his expression, it doesn't feel wrong.

'Yes?' hangs on the tip of his tongue. He bites it back. Instead: "It's Joseph's turn."

"Yeah," responds Jotaro, and passes along the dice. A beat. Then, too Giorno, and he gestures to the cookie bowl, "You can take those."

He blinks, tilts his head a little. Skin pricks. "Excuse me?"

Shizuka's cookie bowl. In theory: free, in practice: no one else has taken any so. Well, Giorno isn't going to be the one to do so. Even though his sweet tooth is a bit strong, and he's finished his cobbler.

(He's Haruno and his mother is telling saying no, not yours you fucking brat.)

"You can have some," says Jotaro, tone steady and almost reassuring.