[Caesar had his own first date jitters- er, manly self reflection time to consider. In the bathtub. Completely masculinishly. He pondered it as he shampooed his soft locks into their perfect silky reputation; it was just Jojo, his idiotic and cocky buddy. His brother in arms. The only companion aside from maybe Lisa Lisa sensei who shared the grueling experiences and trying fate he had. Perhaps one of the few people who understood him on a level beneath his charming persona. There was no reason for his stomach to flip and the good hour he'd spent picking an outfit. It was merely filling the role they were playing for this little training exercise, that's all.
Nodding to himself, he praised his acting skills, closed his eyes and dunked his head beneath the lukewarm water (a testament to how long he'd been brooding in there), letting the thud of his muffled pulse sooth him, get him back on track and away from such sentimental nonsense. Caesar did a mental checklist of all the things he'd prepared beforehand; wine, check (he'd certainly sampled enough of it this afternoon, a taste test ofc), the food, double check, the sunscreen, yup. Because clearly between the two of them Caesar was the one to think of everything they might need. Cold hard facts, the balm to any jitters, flowed through his mind and washed away the nonsense, only to be interrupted by a soft knocking at his door, audible even beneath the water.
With a splash Caesar rose half out of the water, soppy wet elbows bracing the edge of the tub, and blew soaking wet hair from his eyes. He glanced at the clock on the table with puzzlement. No, he hadn't lost track of time so who the hell could that be...? Certainly not Jojo, that idiot couldn't be on time if his ass depended on it, let alone his life.] Mama mia, some gentlemen just can't catch a break...
[Reaching over the edge of the tub, he grabbed a towel, stood to briskly dry himself off, and garbed himself in his pride and joy, a fancy silk robe, before wrapping another fluffy white towel around his hair and padding out of the room. It was probably room service, mistakenly sending him another fruit basket or steak or something of the like. If he hadn't had prior engagements he'd coax room service into sweetening his own gift basket- but it was no use thinking about that now.
Without even peering through the peep hole, he unlocked the door and pried it open, completely unsuspecting of the early after noon knocker without the knockers]
Yes, how may I be of help signora-....well. If room service is relying on your people skills, this hotel is doomed. [To hide his utter surprise, Caesar folded his arms across his sagging robed chest and leaned comfortably in the doorway. Joseph "Diarrhea Mouth bluffington" Joestar was early. Holy shit. Did that mean Italy had a snowball's chance in hell at the cup- nononono. If this wasn't some imposter (which Caesar, the brilliant blonde that he is, isn't completely sure he isn't) then Jojo really was trying hard. The thought warmed his cockles.]
why cant i quit you
Nodding to himself, he praised his acting skills, closed his eyes and dunked his head beneath the lukewarm water (a testament to how long he'd been brooding in there), letting the thud of his muffled pulse sooth him, get him back on track and away from such sentimental nonsense. Caesar did a mental checklist of all the things he'd prepared beforehand; wine, check (he'd certainly sampled enough of it this afternoon, a taste test ofc), the food, double check, the sunscreen, yup. Because clearly between the two of them Caesar was the one to think of everything they might need. Cold hard facts, the balm to any jitters, flowed through his mind and washed away the nonsense, only to be interrupted by a soft knocking at his door, audible even beneath the water.
With a splash Caesar rose half out of the water, soppy wet elbows bracing the edge of the tub, and blew soaking wet hair from his eyes. He glanced at the clock on the table with puzzlement. No, he hadn't lost track of time so who the hell could that be...? Certainly not Jojo, that idiot couldn't be on time if his ass depended on it, let alone his life.] Mama mia, some gentlemen just can't catch a break...
[Reaching over the edge of the tub, he grabbed a towel, stood to briskly dry himself off, and garbed himself in his pride and joy, a fancy silk robe, before wrapping another fluffy white towel around his hair and padding out of the room. It was probably room service, mistakenly sending him another fruit basket or steak or something of the like. If he hadn't had prior engagements he'd coax room service into sweetening his own gift basket- but it was no use thinking about that now.
Without even peering through the peep hole, he unlocked the door and pried it open, completely unsuspecting of the early after noon knocker without the knockers]
Yes, how may I be of help signora-....well. If room service is relying on your people skills, this hotel is doomed. [To hide his utter surprise, Caesar folded his arms across his sagging robed chest and leaned comfortably in the doorway. Joseph "Diarrhea Mouth bluffington" Joestar was early. Holy shit. Did that mean Italy had a snowball's chance in hell at the cup- nononono. If this wasn't some imposter (which Caesar, the brilliant blonde that he is, isn't completely sure he isn't) then Jojo really was trying hard. The thought warmed his cockles.]