Feasting at the Fest

So it was Russo's after all. Jude stared up at it, letting out a small laugh.

"Unintentional, I guess, but this was actually the place owned by the same family who... well, it's kind of a long and complicated story, but Officer Genovese adopted the children that the Family who owned this place had adopted. So in a way, you could say it's staying in the family now."

It was a little vignette, a little story to distract from just saying what he wanted to say, but in the end it had to come out, and if he found it out from someone else...

That would be bad. So he just went with it, thinking back to Alma, to how her aura felt. The kick in the back to just do the thing.

"I had a job here, briefly. I worked as a personal assistant. I was good at it, but there was... some lunatics attacked the place I worked. I didn't have a gun or anything. There were a lot of men, and a lot of guns. I was lucky, and I was in my suit, but in the end I had to pick up one of the dropped guns and..." He trailed off for a moment.

"Defend myself."

He didn't know why he'd worried. He didn't know why he'd thought he had to hide it from his dad, and he curled against him, burying his face ins his dad's shoulder. Basilio might have needed to be careful about pressure, but Jude didn't. Jude could provide as much pressure as he wanted, could lean against Basilio and then could just cry.

And he did. Not a lot, but he did, letting out all the anxiety he'd been storing up since his father had first arrived and he'd tried to hide it. It didn't last more than a minute before he finally pulled back, wiping at his eyes with the back of his sleeve before staring up at his father.

"I'm glad you're here."