[Pericolo had told her, in the weeks leading up to the day she met Bucciarati's gang, that things were changing. That powerful people were beginning to pursue them. He'd mentioned the self-defense training he'd given her, a paltry thing already, and how it would be utterly useless in the face of these enemies.
Of course, Pericolo didn't tell her what made them so dangerous. But he vaguely described a man called Polpo, and that Polpo would look after her in the coming weeks instead. She didn't hear much besides that, other than that he was a capo like Pericolo.
And then Polpo abruptly perished, and Trish remembers donning her disguise alongside Pericolo as he explained that once more, things had changed, and she would soon be in the care of a man named Bucciarati.
Polpo, Bucciarati...these names meant nothing to her, as they were faceless strangers, the only difference being the shape of their names on Pericolo's tongue.
Now, she can only wonder how different her fate would be if anyone had taken her to San Giorgio Maggiore's who wasn't Bruno Bucciarati. Would they have even made it to the church? Would it matter?
Whether Polpo and Pericolo were loyal gangsters, or not, she imagines she would have died.
Either the assassin squad would have captured her, found her utterly useless, and subsequently executed her...or her father would simply erase her while the capos who brought her to him returned to their usual business, confident in a job well done. Nothing would change for Italy itself. Passione would carry on as it had been, and Trish Una would be dead, but there was no one left to notice she was gone anyway.
But Bruno...cared. Bruno cared, and that made all the difference in the world.
Trish closes her eyes, her whole body feeling weightless when she does so as the car smoothly glides forward, and the world filters away until it's just the sound of Bruno's voice and hers.]
Oh, I'm not worried about that.
[Bruno could be strict, sure, but he was hardly overbearing.
As for his question...admittedly, she wants him to leave as soon as is reasonable for him, but another part of her distantly thinks of staying in this oceanfront home all alone, for however long until she finds companionship of some kind to fill the silence.
Trish realizes she doesn't have a good response. Not one that explicitly makes her happy, anyway.]
I think that answer is good enough for me. Stay as long as you like, and feel free to leave when it no longer suits you. I know you have other affairs to sort out, Bucciarati, so I won't be hurt when you have to leave.
[That's a lie, if she's honest with herself.
But Bruno has a gang to return to, doesn't he? There's people waiting for him. She can't hold onto him, no matter how much her gut twists at the idea of one of the few people in the world who cared enough to help her having to leave, eventually.
Until then...she wonders what it will be like to rebuild some semblance of a life with Bucciarati overseeing her efforts. She hasn't spent much time with him or the others that wasn't so blessedly mundane, so it'll be interesting, if nothing else.]
holds her gently bc i refuse to fight her!!!
Of course, Pericolo didn't tell her what made them so dangerous. But he vaguely described a man called Polpo, and that Polpo would look after her in the coming weeks instead. She didn't hear much besides that, other than that he was a capo like Pericolo.
And then Polpo abruptly perished, and Trish remembers donning her disguise alongside Pericolo as he explained that once more, things had changed, and she would soon be in the care of a man named Bucciarati.
Polpo, Bucciarati...these names meant nothing to her, as they were faceless strangers, the only difference being the shape of their names on Pericolo's tongue.
Now, she can only wonder how different her fate would be if anyone had taken her to San Giorgio Maggiore's who wasn't Bruno Bucciarati. Would they have even made it to the church? Would it matter?
Whether Polpo and Pericolo were loyal gangsters, or not, she imagines she would have died.
Either the assassin squad would have captured her, found her utterly useless, and subsequently executed her...or her father would simply erase her while the capos who brought her to him returned to their usual business, confident in a job well done. Nothing would change for Italy itself. Passione would carry on as it had been, and Trish Una would be dead, but there was no one left to notice she was gone anyway.
But Bruno...cared. Bruno cared, and that made all the difference in the world.
Trish closes her eyes, her whole body feeling weightless when she does so as the car smoothly glides forward, and the world filters away until it's just the sound of Bruno's voice and hers.]
Oh, I'm not worried about that.
[Bruno could be strict, sure, but he was hardly overbearing.
As for his question...admittedly, she wants him to leave as soon as is reasonable for him, but another part of her distantly thinks of staying in this oceanfront home all alone, for however long until she finds companionship of some kind to fill the silence.
Trish realizes she doesn't have a good response. Not one that explicitly makes her happy, anyway.]
I think that answer is good enough for me. Stay as long as you like, and feel free to leave when it no longer suits you. I know you have other affairs to sort out, Bucciarati, so I won't be hurt when you have to leave.
[That's a lie, if she's honest with herself.
But Bruno has a gang to return to, doesn't he? There's people waiting for him. She can't hold onto him, no matter how much her gut twists at the idea of one of the few people in the world who cared enough to help her having to leave, eventually.
Until then...she wonders what it will be like to rebuild some semblance of a life with Bucciarati overseeing her efforts. She hasn't spent much time with him or the others that wasn't so blessedly mundane, so it'll be interesting, if nothing else.]