The increased proximity, the greater height-- neither thing seems to have the desired effect. Instead, Giovanni just stares up at his fellow recruit with that same uneven, maddening smile, head tilted slightly to one side and causally standing his ground. There's a little prickle of something passing through him, some shiver of unseen energy, but it has no more impact on him than Laedo's aggressive display.

"Of course it's a game. What else would it be?" he shrugs his narrow shoulders, finally takes a slow step back, raises one pistol until the barrel is flush against own chest, right over his heart, "when you're built like I am, it's hard to view it any other way."

And he pulls the trigger.

He staggers back another step, grunts as the pain pushes through him, but then he's straightening and smiling and still on his feet as the wound closes over and the smoke rises up, leaving nothing behind but a hole through his clothing and a visible circle of perfect, unmarred flesh. He spreads his arms wide, like an invitation.

"So please, be my guest. Do your worst."