[ He throws a mocking grimace at the mention of using fishbones as fertilizer, but... well, it does make sense... Even in the shallows, there's a lot of dead stuff, and Alberto's well familiar, too. È la vita. He just shrugs it off after making a face, stirring the pasta curiously to check on it as they talk. He takes a hairpin turn back to another point, putting Luca on the spot suddenly. ]
Fine. What about music? Can you sing any songs? Just use spoons if you need shells... There.
[ He points to the silverware drawer with the pasta spoon, a stray noodle sliding off it and falling to the floor. He doesn't acknowledge it. In fact, he very obviously expects Luca to just— burst out into song on command... no restraint, no shame, no inhibitions. Ahem. Not everyone spent their whole lives in chronic solitude, Alberto... ]
no subject
Fine. What about music? Can you sing any songs? Just use spoons if you need shells... There.
[ He points to the silverware drawer with the pasta spoon, a stray noodle sliding off it and falling to the floor. He doesn't acknowledge it. In fact, he very obviously expects Luca to just— burst out into song on command... no restraint, no shame, no inhibitions. Ahem. Not everyone spent their whole lives in chronic solitude, Alberto... ]