[ at the question, he huffs, a distant suggestion of a dry laugh through his nose. Bucciarati has no doubt Abbacchio knows nothing is actually wrong - not really, anyway - but his gentle concern is, as always, noted. He also has no doubt that an hour and change of this has Abbacchio wanting a moment to breathe as much as he does. Neither of them are really built for high society. Or politics, for that matter. ]
Come with me.
[ his hand slips away again, and he turns to start navigating through the hall, very much hoping that nobody who knows him and wants to talk to him stops him. He's done a good job making a name for himself; he wears it as a badge of honor when he's out and about on the streets, or among others from Passione, but in this setting, it's almost a nuisance. Some vaguely-familiar suit does catch his eye and give him a small smile and wave, despite his efforts; apparently, though, Bucciarati looks busy enough that he can get away with a simple nod in return. Having his man trailing behind him probably helps.
Normally, he'd just call out Sticky Fingers and create a private doorway for them. Considering the number of non-Stand users present who might see him, though, he resists the urge, and simply hopes that no one else has decided to flee to the balcony. Fortunately, luck's on his side: it's not very big, and so not well-suited for holding any group conversation. Especially any that might involve Polpo. Once he hears the door close behind them, he sighs, then turns to face Abbacchio. ]
Sorry. I needed an excuse. [ to get away, that is. A soon-to-be-capo pulling one of his men aside for a private conversation is nothing anyone would blink at. ] I'm fine. You have cigarettes on you?
[ Bucciarati, theoretically, doesn't smoke, and so doesn't carry them. Only when he's offered one by a friend - or when he's anxious about something out of his control. ]
abba calling him boss is extremely cute
Come with me.
[ his hand slips away again, and he turns to start navigating through the hall, very much hoping that nobody who knows him and wants to talk to him stops him. He's done a good job making a name for himself; he wears it as a badge of honor when he's out and about on the streets, or among others from Passione, but in this setting, it's almost a nuisance. Some vaguely-familiar suit does catch his eye and give him a small smile and wave, despite his efforts; apparently, though, Bucciarati looks busy enough that he can get away with a simple nod in return. Having his man trailing behind him probably helps.
Normally, he'd just call out Sticky Fingers and create a private doorway for them. Considering the number of non-Stand users present who might see him, though, he resists the urge, and simply hopes that no one else has decided to flee to the balcony. Fortunately, luck's on his side: it's not very big, and so not well-suited for holding any group conversation. Especially any that might involve Polpo. Once he hears the door close behind them, he sighs, then turns to face Abbacchio. ]
Sorry. I needed an excuse. [ to get away, that is. A soon-to-be-capo pulling one of his men aside for a private conversation is nothing anyone would blink at. ] I'm fine. You have cigarettes on you?
[ Bucciarati, theoretically, doesn't smoke, and so doesn't carry them. Only when he's offered one by a friend - or when he's anxious about something out of his control. ]