When G first spots him, he isn't quite sure what to think of Giotto.
A thin face, bright eyes, and small hands.
He won't last a day, G remembers thinking to himself as the boy cheerfully greets him and declares that they're getting out of there, let alone save us.
He's naive, selfless, kind.
They'll kill him before the end of the week. Oddly enough, the thought seems painful, twisting G's chest in a way that he had thought the mafia had beat out of him a long time ago.
He's quiet, G thinks at first, when he spots the boy listening to a woman complain about their captors, and the cruel reality that they're forced to live in. Giotto is silent, only nodding occasionally and talking when the woman asks him questions, and to keep the conversation going.
But that thought's discarded when he spots Giotto chatting a mile a minute with the boy who's tongue was cut off for cheeking their captors.
It isn't that he's quiet, G thinks, it's simply that he prefers to listen.
Then Giotto, somehow, finds his way to G.
"The others say that you were the one who brought me here." He doesn't bother with the pretense of a light hearted voice, instead his brow is furrowed, lips twisted to the side and nose wrinkled in something akin to confusion.
"Yes," G raises his head to offer Giotto an even stare, eyebrows raised in expectancy. "Are you going to get all huffy about it?"
"No," Giotto crouches down next to G, his head tilted to the side as he continues, "If you worked willingly for them, you wouldn't be here with us."
And suddenly, the boy with the bright eyes seems much more likely to survive.
Shoulders back, back straight, completely aware.
He is a curiosity.
When Giotto first sees G, he's curious.
Pale face, cold eyes, tight fists.
He's just barely surviving. Giotto recalls thinking as he greets everyone as cheerfully as he can. I can't wait for him to see the sky again.
He's distant, broken, brave.
He's been here too long. His stomach clenches uncomfortably at the thought, worry flooding his chest as he wonders if he was too late, and that G would always think as a slave, never as his own person.
When he talks to the angry man in the corner, he's told that 'that little piece of %$&# brought me here'. Then why are his hands chained? Giotto wants to ask, but he just smile and nods.
'If he hadn't taken me here, I'd still have my arm'. The little girl with only one arm tells Giotto, her voice not angry, just pitiful.
Stay away from him, everyone warns Giotto.
But Giotto finds his way to G anyways, thinking that it's a lost cause.
"The others say that you were the one who brought me here." He doesn't bother hiding his confusion as G offers him a blank stare.
"Yes." G's words are a challenge, but still sarcastic and cool. "Are you going to get all huffy about it?"
And suddenly, it seems like the boy with the cold eyes isn't all that broken.
Body tense, jaw clenched, sarcasm lining his words.
Giotto wants to know more.
A/N: Procrastination for life! (nervous laughter) So, I know that I'm supposed to be doing other stuff, but this seemed funner, so... yeah. I might continue this, might keep it as a oneshot, I don't really know. What do you guys think?