[The temptation, when he sees the confusion written across Riley's face, is to dive headfirst into an explanation of the logistics. Which is absurd. He would genuinely prefer to discuss the stolen body of the murdered progenitor of a lineage of beefcakes that somehow managed to obliquely and accidentally produce him than keep talking about this. He only barely manages to course-correct, to let her speak. Process. Take step after cautious step forward.]

[She's going in the right direction, at least. By now, he doesn't have to lead her much at all.]

Do you know what Giorno means? It means "day". To say good morning in Italian, you say buon giorno. It's not really a given name at all. Giovanna isn't a surname; it's a girl's given name. I wanted to be something [the briefest hesitation, and then he smiles, one of his real ones, albeit small and tired] bright and beautiful. Because I had the opportunity to become something better. To make my dreams a reality.

[This time, it's less a hesitation and more a pause. He's trying to decide if he wants to say the next part. It's not something Riley has the key for yet. Giving it to her is entirely his choice.]

. . . Before, I looked a lot like my mother, but afterwards I closely resembled my father. My real father, I mean. That made it easier, too, to separate myself. I didn't want to look back.

[. . .]

Does it make any sense? Or do you think I'm crazy?