Well, yeah. Of course not. [ He says it with such a "duh" tone, but after a beat, again he softens, opening up a bit. ] ...I've killed my food before, too. I'm a fisherman. Or, I mean— I was one. Sort of. I guess I might have been someday. I lived with one — for a couple weeks, before I got here... My friend's dad ran a pescheria. When I moved in with him, I'd help him go fishing for his work. So he killed fish. Taught me how. So I guess that's kind of like hunting, too. He just hunted in the ocean.
[ There's a vague melancholy in his voice that he's clearly trying to hide with an airy, nonchalant tone, but it still comes through somehow. He's glad to change the topic. But satisfied with this odd "hey, we both kill things" exchange, by association with the amount of respect he has for Massimo. Regardless, it's more vulnerable than he wants to present himself, by far, so he's swift to move on with a wave of his hand and his typical smirk. ]
Actually, he was the one who gave me the camera. It's so cool. It traps a moment with its eye and then it takes 60 seconds for it to draw the memory. You've gotta wait until it's done remembering before you take the cover off, or else it's fuzzy and vague, y'know, like when you can't remember a dream clearly, or something that happened a long time ago. ...But after 60 seconds, it remembers every detail, and prints out a perfect drawing of the memory. It's got all kinds of paints inside for all the colors. They need to dry under the cover.
[ He's... not... wrong, exactly, but uh, he's not right. Very much not right. But he explains with seemingly such ease that even this abstract misunderstanding of a camera... makes strange, schmaltzy sense, maybe. ]
no subject
[ There's a vague melancholy in his voice that he's clearly trying to hide with an airy, nonchalant tone, but it still comes through somehow. He's glad to change the topic. But satisfied with this odd "hey, we both kill things" exchange, by association with the amount of respect he has for Massimo. Regardless, it's more vulnerable than he wants to present himself, by far, so he's swift to move on with a wave of his hand and his typical smirk. ]
Actually, he was the one who gave me the camera. It's so cool. It traps a moment with its eye and then it takes 60 seconds for it to draw the memory. You've gotta wait until it's done remembering before you take the cover off, or else it's fuzzy and vague, y'know, like when you can't remember a dream clearly, or something that happened a long time ago. ...But after 60 seconds, it remembers every detail, and prints out a perfect drawing of the memory. It's got all kinds of paints inside for all the colors. They need to dry under the cover.
[ He's... not... wrong, exactly, but uh, he's not right. Very much not right. But he explains with seemingly such ease that even this abstract misunderstanding of a camera... makes strange, schmaltzy sense, maybe. ]