Essere Orgoglioso

Well, he was certainly... practical. Prepared. Maybe a bit jumping the gun a bit, but he was able to at least appreciate why.

"Leftovers it is," Angelo said, rifling through the fridge and pulling out some metal-wrapped lasagna to pop in the microwave. "Island's pretty liberal. We've got so many types of people from so many backgrounds that you can't really judge anyone for anything without upsetting someone. Religion's pretty minimal, because people have a hard time maintaining their faith when their next door neighbor's a pagan god. Uh..."

He gave Jude a look, well aware he'd probably have a better idea of what was different.

"They've got species that have to eat human flesh to survive," Jude said. "So if something says 'human' on the package, you probably don't want to eat it. Blood too, but that's more obvious. Mostly just... be aware of that so you don't make a scene, but I think everyone on the island's pretty aware. The island constantly has new people coming in from other places, so it's really good at adapting to newcomers, and to avoid judging someone too hard because they're caught off guard."

"Don't worry too much about upsetting anyone," Angelo said from his place at the microwave. "They've got cultural classes to catch you up to speed and stuff like that. Little seminars. I'll grab you some brochures to go through when you wake up."

Jude cracked a smile at Mr. Genoveses as Angelo pulled the leftovers from the microwave, serving them up to Basilio before yawning widely himself, quickly covering his mouth with his hand.

"I'll give you the room next to Jude's," Angelo said once he'd recovered. "Even if he doesn't sleep, he's in there most of the time at night, although who knows what he does."

"Homework," Jude corrected. "Mostly. Or catching up with stuff. Pop culture and video games and all that."

"Inefficient," Angelo said with a snort. "But fair. You want to catch up."

"It's not like you need to know the minutiae of Dragon Ball," Jude pointed out. "That's kind of outside your field of expertise."

"You know what?" Angelo said. "Change of plans. We've got a guest room downstairs. I'm not entirely sure how that whole, uh, weight thing of yours works, but if there's a change you might accidentally go through the floor I'd rather you only go through a foot tops, rather than the ceiling."

Jude winced, but he couldn't exactly disagree either. Probably a smarter idea.

"Honestly, I'm not fussed about you breaking things anyway. Not like you're doing it intentionally, so it doesn't count. I'll see if I can't grab some clothes for you while you're asleep so you have something to change into and all that."

"I'm off of school," Jude pointed out. "The whole next week. So we can catch up and help you get settled in."

Giltenn had been a wall between them even before Basilio had known about it. There had always been that great big secret, that sense that he couldn't tell his dad everything. But that didn't exist anymore. Giltenn was gone, having literally run off, and that meant there were no more secrets.

"I'll show you," Jude said. "I know which room it is at least."

"Then I'll let you two do that," Angelo said, waving them off. "I've got work in the morning, even with all this going on. I'll catch you tomorrow afternoon most likely."

Jude knew exactly where to find the room--pretty sparse and obviously a guest room--and he was practically bouncing down the hall as he did, even with his arm missing.

It was just a relief to have his dad back.

They had never been a terrible affectionate family, but that had been one of the many things that had changed since Jude had arrived on Manta Carlos. Now he found comfort in it, and he sat beside his father, leaning heavily against him and letting his eyes drift closed. He was there. There and safe and what else was there, really?

That was what really mattered.

"I missed you too. I kind of... I think I kind of thought you were gone. That I'd never get to see you again. The letter was..."

Jude didn't finish the sentence. Basilio had read the letter--he knew what it was. A final sendoff. A things I couldn't say, sent to someone who wouldn't get a chance to read them.

But he did. He'd gotten it. He'd read it.

"I don't want any more secrets," he said quietly. "Secrets... secrets nearly killed me. Secrets nearly killed you. I just want to be a family again."