wavelengths

Simply ignoring it, he takes a sip of his own coffee as the other speaks, lowering it with an apologetic nod. ”Ah…Right, right, sorry. Have you been getting a lot of visitors?" 

"Heaven's Door."

With that, he turned to face Hibiki again, flipping through his pages and skimming for vital information. The ability to summon demons, and... dragon stream? A defensive move. Interesting... that would actually be good inspiration! The good news behind all of this, was that he read that this boy was no threat towards him.

"Think of it as security," he mumbled, closing the boy's book and heading back to his desk. "Come on in, Shining One. The amount of visitors today has been disgusting. I have nothing better to do, since I can't draw with all of this racket." What the hell did that even mean? Maybe he should've looked more... nah. Not today.

Rather than standing in costume with a sack of candy waiting to be filled, the shining one stares up at the artist with a slightly disturbed look, a cup of coffee in each hand.

“…Did you not want any today, sensei?”

"Of course I want my coffee. Didn't I say every day? You need to make yourself more distinct from those brats begging for candy. Work on that."

A scoff, before he opened the door for Hibiki to enter. If he dared. "So do you want to learn anything today, or are you going to go celebrate like a fucking tool? There's nothing to celebrate on this island, holidays like this are only a distraction. I hope your mind's not dull enough to fall for it."

Here it goes. Opening the book with a mumble of, “Oh thank god, it’s in Japanese," mostly directed to himself, his eyes scan over the first few pages and… In his excitement, raises his voice from it’s gentle tone, looking up to the elder.

“Holy crap, you drew this?" 

“It’s beautiful! I love your style!”

A 'tch' left him at the thought alone, before he blinked. ... No way. He was a fan already? It wasn't long after those words left Hibiki's mouth that a wide grin would spread across Rohan's. "Of course. I wouldn't publish something anything less than the highest quality." Seeing his work being admired, with such respect...

                          ——— ★ ★ ★

Quiet, observant, calculating. He’d never enjoyed direct confrontation; even with his Stand, he vastly preferred to slip between the cracks and soak in all the variables before he roared into action. There was a reason he was the Super High School Level Mafia Boss. From his throne, he pulled the strings behind the curtains. Here, he stood center-stage, the metaphorical heat of the spotlight eminating from this ‘Rohan Kishibe’ and his damnable Heaven’s Door.

"I’m afraid I’ve never heard of you until now." Spoken bluntly, matter-of-factly. Not an insult, just the simple truth. Giorno had always favored the heavier material as opposed to the manga, in any case. "I would introduce myself, but you’ve squirreled that respect, it seems." The change in his voice through the entirety of this encounter was fluid; from shocked, to cold, to distant and formal, there was no way of marking exactly when his tone and mannerisms shifted. "Forgive me for being reluctant to speak. I’m under the impression you know more about me than you let on, and I’d hate for you to endure needless repetition. That would be an insult to both our intelligence."

The other had backed away, crossing his arms in a gesture of pacification. Giorno, however, stood rigidly against Rohan, hands at his sides as if still on-guard. In the man’s own words— a safety measure. At the very least, he no longer perceived the mangaka as an immediate threat. But here of all places, one could never be too careful. "So… you murdered someone and won." Spoken dryly, a guise for the utter disgust the mere thought brought him. "That’s the rule of this place, right…?"

If only he had Gold Experience, then he could afford to express his sudden and violent disapproval of his interrogator. But he held his tongue the best he could; bold words that he couldn’t back up weren’t worth any potential repercussions. “I haven’t earned that right myself, if that’s what you’re asking… I don’t ever intend to. I prefer to rely on these ‘shitty potions’ while they last.” A pause. “I don’t know if they’re truly ‘artificial manifestations’, but they work fine, and they don’t come at the needless price of others’ lives.”

Oh, well.

"You haven't? That's a shame. You're Italian, right? I guess my manga hasn't reached that far, yet. I'll have to talk to my publishers about that once we get out - if we get out. You realize that we may never see home again, right? So what do you do, when you're trapped here for the rest of your days, trapped in a world where the person who shares your bedroom could be likely to kill you...? I'll tell you what you do, since you wear that look of disgust on your face... It's towards my actions, right?"

A scoff. So he was one of those who upheld the lives of others. That seemed comical, coming from the one who called himself a mafia boss between the two of them. Maybe stereotypes were wrong, after all.

"You gain allies. People who will be on your side in hard times. And then what do you do? You gain whatever means to protect yourself. For someone as frail as I... that would be using my allies to my advantage, right? Planning the perfect murder and winning the trial. That gave me my Stand - something I would be dead without. But you say, that this is a waste of innocent lives... that's a lie. It's no waste. With these abilities back, I can protect much more than I could before, don't you see? There's no good and evil on this island. There's only survival."

He would glance down at Giorno, his grin fading into a look of disgust. Don't worry, Giorno, he's not particularly disgusted by you, that's just how he looks at the world. This world that the students have been so quick to separate into good and evil when the truth of the matter was, there was no such thing.

What he had expected to be a simple meal-grab was now a crime scene. Funny how things worked around here. And by funny, he meant convenient. With a hum, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and taking a picture of the scene. Perfect. That'd be great for his manga.

"Not really, no. Thanks for the reference, though."

If anything, at this point, he was getting irritated. He had come here for a specific purpose, and this brat was just getting in the way. It was in his luck, however, that her stunt and vanishing act gave him a clear vantage towards the school's entrance, and so he would begin to walk towards those rusted doors. The aura itself was enough to entice the mangaka, before he paused at this girl's wretched voice.

If there were some things he couldn't ignore...

"Listen, amateur. I'll have you know that I don't give a shit about material possessions, they're simply a bonus that comes with my success. I'm not out for material gain at all. The only thing that matters to me, Rohan Kishibe, in this world is my manga." A roll of his eyes. "Please. My title is Super High School Level Mangaka."

"Hibiki, I like you!" That is not a good thing. "The library's over here, we'll get the first few volumes of Pink Dark Boy checked out for you, right?" Thankfully, it wasn't long before they were at said library, Rohan still doing well to shove the poor boy inside and towards the manga section. Brows knit, the elder would lean down, scanning the shelves.

Blue eyes raise to settle on the other’s face again now, anxiety slowly fading as its replaced with curiosity. Hibiki gives a small nod, silent as he listens to the explanation.

"What are you doing? Get up, don't be so lazy." Or not. You were so close. His free hand would be dedicated in closing his sketchbook and shoving it back into the bag strapped over his shoulder. "We're going to the library." Note how there was literally no option given. Thanks.