Florida, United States, 1994
In a maritime research facility near the eastern coast, Kujo Jotaro stands by the edge of the dolphins' pool, clipboard and reference papers balanced carefully in arms. From underneath the brim of his omnipresent hat, his eyes dart tirelessly to and fro with the shrewdness of a dedicated marine biologist- which, of course, he is, among other things- skimming over each the newly arrived specimens in the pool and then back to his clipboard; taking note of behaviours, communication, swimming patterns, and so on, without pause or break. Apart from a few minor aberrations, he's satisfied with most of the results- though it's rather hard to tell, given his stoic nature.
Carefully re-adjusting his files, Jotaro squats carefully by the side of the pool and outstretches an arm to the nearest specimen to test for wariness. The dolphin jitters instantly under his touch, startling him. He's too rough, he realises; but before he can think to do anything about it, he feels his Stand emerge without preamble, Star Platinum's translucent hand overlapping his own.
The Stand's touch is precise as ever, yet gentle, and the dolphin relaxes under it, before swimming away. Jotaro'a shoulders relax slightly in relief, and he mentally thanks his Stand's rapid instincts. Somewhere beside him, he feels Star Platinum smile.
Naples, Italy, 2002
In the vast, ornate office of the mafia family Passione, Don Giorno Giovanna lets out a deep, exhausted sigh, slumping forward in his chair as his eyes gaze tiredly over the stacks upon stacks of paper littering the desk before him. Even after eleven straight hours of working, the pile doesn't seem to be decreasing in the slightest. Resisting the urge to fling them all in the nearest incinerator, the sixteen-year-old gangstar instead settles for a frustrated groan, slender fingers digging into mussed golden hair in an effort to quell a raging headache.
Despite what his moody disposition might suggest, things have actually been going quite smoothly for Passione as of late. After a few little...nuisances, the dons of the other major families in Naples have finally consented (for the most part) to make an agreement of non-violence with Passione, with certain conditions. Negotiations over said conditions are going quite fine as well.
It's just getting through all the damn paperwork that's the problem.
Giorno leans back in the tall, high-backed desk chair, deciding to rest his eyes from the heinous torture of fine text for but a few precious moments. Surely a quick break won't hurt. After all, it wouldn't do if I were to damage my eyesight.
A soft breeze tickles his ear as his eyes stutter shut. How nice of Mista to have propped one of the windows open earlier...
A loud rustle sounds, and Giorno's eyes snap open, azure orbs filled with alarm as he realises that the seemingly innocent little breeze has managed to send a dozen or so of his previously-neatly-sorted papers flying into the air. Before a single sheet can touch the floor, though, the air is suddenly instead filled with little white butterflies.
Giorno blinks, momentarily mystified, before he acknowledges the presence of Gold Experience beside him. The Stand solemnly directs the 'butterflies' to land on their respective paper stacks before transforming them back. A flash and a shimmer, and the Stand is gone once more.
For a moment, Giorno is half-stunned, half-relieved. Then, when his headache decides to return with a vengeance, and he decides that he's done working for the day.