[Okay. Okay, well . . . okay. So he is allowed, and Fugo is moving to make it happen. That's good. That's very good. And since Fugo is doing that for him (or for both of them? since he said he wanted Giorno to play with his hair? what?), it's Giorno's job to get them back on track. He didn't mean to get them so off track, either, but oh. Just oh, at all of this.]

[He bites his lip again. Focus. They are Conversing about Emotions. He can do that. All right. He shifts and reaches, a little tentatively at first, for Fugo's hair, carding his fingers through it with something approaching reverence. It's easier to focus on that than on Fugo's face for a moment, anyway.]

. . . I was thinking the same thing. I have been for a while, actually. Not just today, although it's clearest today, I suppose--less diluted by other things. But I'd never think of just telling someone all of this normally, only with you it just feels--difficult, but not dangerous. And I was a little sad afterwards, but not very sad.

I feel like I spend so much time hiding, but I don't have to with you. Even if what I show is all the knots in my heart that I don't think will ever be untangled, you won't think it's bad or strange or stupid. You just listen. And--sometimes get angry for me.

[A beat, maybe two.]

I'm still not used to that. It feels strange. Good strange, though. Do you ever feel good strange?