The Queen of Cups

Commercial Break

Morning came, and Jotaro found himself laying next to you in the hotel bed.

With your back facing him, he watched quietly as your form slowly rose up and down as you slept. Thinking of everything you'd been through, he wondered if it would be possible to come out of Egypt unscathed.

He'd be stupid to think that, knowing that no one would be stable, both physically and mentally.

The Anubis fight is already set in his memories forever, so how will the fight against Dio affect him? Is it possible to assume the risk of casualties?

“It's rude to stare.”

Your voice grabbed his attention as you turned around to face him in the bed. Propping a hand under your head, you lazily yawned, squinting against the sunlight.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.”

Jotaro scoffed at your sarcasm.
“Shut up.”

“You know I'd never do that. How're your wounds?”

“More or less better. I don't feel that much shitty today.”

“Good. We're going to have to change your bandages before we leave for Luxor.”

Just then, Polnareff burst out of the bathroom, happily humming the tune of Alouette. “Bonjour, mes amis! Comment ça va?”

“Doing fine I guess?” you didn't know a lick of French, but guessing the time of day, you assumed that he was asking about your well-being.

Forcefully pulling the sheets off of you and Jotaro, Polnareff adamantly urged you guys to start getting ready, only to be met with whining and grumbling.

“I don't feel like getting up!” you complained.

Burying his face deep in the pillow, Jotaro flipped Polnareff off in response, mumbling something along the lines of 
“bug off”.

“Oh come on! You guys are impossible.”
Picking you up, the Frenchman carried you in the crook of his arm, your legs dragging on the floor.

Dropping you in the bathroom, he tossed your bag to you, closing the door behind him. “Don't take too long! I wanna get some breakfast before it's too late.”

Sighing, you grabbed your toothrush and clothes, brushing as you wondered what you were going to wear for the day, rummaging through your bag.

No, that one's ripped.

This one has a tear too.

That one needs to be washed.

And this one—oh god—is covered in blood. It was as if the victim was murdered in this themself. There's no way you were wearing this in public.