[About halfway through this procedure, as he sticks close to Fugo, tight against his side as doors close, he realizes he's left the opened pudding cup on the desk. This is distressing, but not as much as he expected it might be. There's a joke in there somewhere, probably: he doesn't need that pudding when he's got this one. He doesn't make it, or even feel the impulse to. He doesn't want to take the chance that Fugo might let him go.]

[He'd follow Fugo off the end of the earth like this. He's curled in on himself, preparing to hurt, a look that's rare on him now but not unknown. This is the look he wore under the onslaught of Abbacchio's tirade, when Jonathan and Jotaro were so close to coming to blows. He curls up against Fugo like Gold Experience did not so long ago, making himself small somehow despite the fact that they're about the same size, really.]

Sorry I'm being strange.

[It's muffled against Fugo's shoulder; then he turns his face out to the room again and nudges Fugo's leg with his knee.]

I don't want to start. Maybe if you ask me something, it'll all . . . unfold. Like--a very gentle interrogation.