#divinesandstorm

He’d never seen her cry and so seeing it now was concerning. Honestly he didn’t think the Pillar Men had it in them. He hung back a little, unsure of what to do and how to comfort her.

Caesar would have let the man leave had that comment not been made. Later he would blame the outburst on being around Jojo too much, though truthfully, that temper had always been in Caesar as well. Even if Wammu and himself weren’t here on an official date, she was a woman that he was out with. He would not allow any insult to her go unpunished. He would have done this for any girl he had been with. It was a matter of principle.

So then why did he feel like there was a special level of insult to be had from that comment?

Caesar paused, having not expected that. Usually Wammu wasn’t the one getting sent around on errands like that, but maybe she had just volunteered. He dropped his shirt on the ground and stretched, feeling his joints pop in a very satisfying way before answering.

“I shouldn’t be out too late, and I’m only going to the mainland. I might not even get too far into Venice. Honestly, I was hoping to see if there were any cafes still open.” An espresso sounded really good right about now. If he ran into a pretty girl while there, well, that might change his plans, but for now, that was all he had in mind.

Caesar was enjoying a night off, one of the very few he got nowadays, with a very bella donna in Venice. He needed to keep his charm sharp, after all, and a little fun was just what he needed to relax from the recent bouts of training.

He was not expecting to see Wammu on his way to one of the coastal hotels, and froze when he saw her figure against the moonlight. It would be irresponsible to not confront her, so, with many pardons, he excused himself from his companion, giving her fare for a cab to get home, and approached the pillar woman, hands already bubbling with anticipation for his attack.

Wammu had barely had to touch him to send him falling straight to the ground. It had probably been a light breeze, or a shove, he really wasn’t sure. All he knew was that one second he was standing, trying to summon enough Hamon to create some bubbles for a ranged attack, and the next he was on the ground, struggling to not give in to a coughing fit.

“They’re very nice,” Caesar said, glancing at the flowers again. He knew the language of flowers at least in a rudimentary sense--it helped with wooing women and the like. So he had at least a vague understanding of what they all meant, and, it was intense.

“Yes, that’s what’s in style,” he said, trying his best to avoid the question he knew was hanging in the air before she asked it. He didn’t want to let anything like his playboy nature offend her. Oddly, she was the one woman he was afraid of offending or hurting.

Caesar tried to sit up but couldn’t, falling back against the floor in a heap of pain. He could tell from the amount of pain he was in that he probably wasn’t going to make it without some sort of miracle.