[It's true. The day she sees Bruno having fun is the day she gets a new pair of eyes, or something.

Trish doesn't have nearly the same perception of the situation as Bruno...all she knows is that she wants to live, and they've been offered no recourse here but to integrate or just sit aside to be ordered around when the locals decide so. It's scary, it's stressful, and she's not sure what possessed her to sing until her throat hurt other than an outlet presenting itself and Trish leaping on it. It made some people smile, despite everything...so it was worth it, wasn't it?

Maybe she simply can't comprehend sitting and being paralyzed with fear anymore. Why bow your head when you can lift it and be heard?]

I'm two weeks from turning sixteen, thank you.

[Watch out, we got a badass over here. At the mention of Mista and Narancia, Trish sort of deflates. She notably ignores the compliment, because acknowledging Bruno was paying attention is too much for her right now.]

I know Narancia liked music...but I can't picture Mista singing at all.

[She's trying to picture it, though, and she can't hide her smile. He's an idiot and yet she misses him, somehow.]

I haven't seen him or Giorno in two months, otherwise I'd be more than happy to take him on stage and crush him in front of an audience.

[She's now imagining all of them together, before Diavolo ruined it all...Bruno and Abbacchio sitting at a dim table watching Narancia and Mista belt their hearts out off-key. Giorno she can't imagine being anywhere near karaoke on purpose, so he's probably sitting awkwardly against the wall like the wallflower he is. Hah, flower. Fugo...is being angry or something, she supposes. He seems the type to know when a song is being butchered.]

It would be fun because he wouldn't care at all, would he? He'd laugh about it.