[He hears the softly murmured words, meant as hope and reassurance yes but is that the reality of it? Vaguely, Giovanni has his doubts, both in regard to the tactic and the sentiment. He wants to shake his head, click his tongue, but even with this man who he knows will tolerate more from him than many Company higher-ups would, he restrains himself all the same, bites back the words. It's not his place to voice such opinions (to have opinions at all) and more than that, he doesn't care enough for the fate of those missing family members (or, indeed, the child itself) to make any mention of them. To think too long on where they've ended up.

Instead, he moves as requested to the other man's side, listens attentively enough.]

You're wrong about that. With respect, hahah. Those kinds of traits, they're not meant for things like me.

[But regardless, he's reaching to grasp the child's thin leg between his palms-- hands that can punch through flesh and bone with a sickening kind of strength now resting there mildly, all the sparking brutality in him held, temporarily, in check.

He glances, briefly, into Sion's face. Just for a moment, and then his gaze returns to the broken appendage lying beneath the pass of his hands.]

How much force should I apply, Sir?

[Not too much, he thinks. Like reassembling a gun rather than a movement meant to cause harm.]