WAY TOO MUCH BULLSHIT HAS BEEN HAPPENING LATELY, and frankly, Joseph is sick of it.
There was that strange run in with Straizo a few months back, there was saving uncle Speedwagon from that weird, shady organization -- there was trying to shake off that annoying reporter who kept trailing him everywhere ( SERIOUSLY, HOW DOES SHE PULL THAT OFF? ), maintaining a facade that everything was fine and dandy around Erina and now Smokey's been pulled into the mess too -- man, it was just so much! And this wasn't even accounting for all the trauma he's been forced to bear witness to.
He saw.. SO. MANY. DEAD. BODIES. In such a short span. He even had to chop the leg of a person off! Nightmares have been regularly plaguing him since, and with less sleep comes a more cranky and on edge JoJo. With how far down he tried to shove everything, though, it was clear that he was gonna set the negative emotions as far as he could aside, and try to not think about them. If he didn't think, then he wouldn't blow up about it -- but it's certainly a flawed way of going about things.
Well. You see. The Thing™ about Joseph Joestar is that when he decides to shove his emotions away, and not address them -- well, he always, always inevitably ends up exploding. If not in the moment, then certainly later on-- when the little things keep mounting pressure and building up, until everything in him EXPLODES with a burning ( but VERY short-lived ) rage.
Unfortunately for the young Joestar ... Today, he's about to reach his current limit. After being shunted off to Italy to learn more about the Pillarmen, because Speedwagon 'knew a chap that could help' or something, but when they'd gotten to the hotel in the heart of Rome, well.. Speedwagon had some matters to attend to, and Joseph had been left alone for much of the day. He hadn't initially done much -- reading comics, mostly, until around noon hit. Though he was jet-lagged to hell and back, he'd decided it'd probably be good to get some breakfast or lunch or whatever a meal would be considered by this hour.
There's... a really, really big problem though.
Joseph is alone, in an Italian hotel, where little if any staff speak English. The menus are all in a language he can't even read, so he doesn't even know most of what he's looking at. The waiter seems to be trying to ask him what he'd like to start with, but because he understands nothing, well -- there's an ever-growing tense expression on his face. An overwhelming sensation starts to take over his mind, barely able to think with how frustrated he feels. The only thing he can think to do is try to ask for a moment to decide, since he can't make out most of the menu...
❝Uhhhhh...... Un....... uuh, how's it -- Un momento?❞ he asks, pronunciation very off. The waiter raises his eyebrow in a judging manner before nodding, saying another something he can't understand -- and right back he goes to fussing over what the hell he could possibly order from the menu that he can't read. The only option that looks like it might be safe is one that has spaghetti in the name, which -- yeah, ok, THAT he at least recognizes. But he isn't sure what the rest of it means ( al nero di seppia??? ), and he isn't so sure he's ready to try something new today.
.. Still, as he reads over the menu, reading and rereading and desperately trying to make sense of what he's looking at, it's pretty clear to any onlookers with eyes that he's getting increasingly frustrated. He has a pretty scrunched up, agitated look to him, only barely hidden by the hand that grips his hair -- which itself is beginning to stand on it's end, and even spark with Hamon just as his teeth do, soft hair going rigid in the process.
Someone should probably help soon, or he's bound to explode..
@caestusvulpes // PLOTTED
