[The quick trip up the stairs, across the hall, and down the stairs again helps to work off some of his nervous energy. By the time he meets Kakyoin at the stairs, he's back at a more neutral state of worrying.]
[WHAT A NICE WALK PREFACING AN OTHERWISE UNPLEASANT AND KIND OF TERRIFYING MEETING]
I believe we've covered the gist of the Pistols. [Namely that they are great and anything else is a lame imitation. Get good, Hol Horse.] So unless you have any further compliments for them, I believe the subject at hand would be independent Stands in general.
Right--I've met Pistols and had a brief conversation with Trish and Spice Girl. Apart from that I don't have a lot of experience with Stands like that. The vast majority of the Stands I know...some of them have a limited vocal capacity like Star and Chariot, and most of them can have their user's voice channeled through them. My Hierophant, for example, doesn't speak or make any such sound. Transmitting my own voice through him is simple, however.
[Kakyoin frowned--it didn't bother him that Hierophant didn't speak, of course, but it still led him to wonder. They were occupying an odd middle ground between Stands like Hermit Purple and ones like Star Platinum; he didn't have a will that wasn't also Kakyoin's, but he looked like he could have. On the other side, the idea of an independently speaking and acting Hierophant made him a little uncomfortable. If he did that, they would be a pair instead of two halves that made one whole.]
Oh, you've met Trish? [Oh my god. Look. There it is. The rarest of Fugo expressions: a crooked, warm smile twitches across his face, because Trish Una has at one point graced Ruby City with her presence.] Aren't they amazing? Spice Girl is so insightful. I was so surprised when Trish introduced her to me.
She's lovely. [Is he talking about Trish, or Spice Girl? Both, probably.] I've honestly never met another Stand like Spice Girl. She's very special. You let them keep the emeralds, right? [He chuckles.] No, never mind. That's a stupid question. Of course you did.
[Because Trish is great. What. Were they talking about again? Fugo takes a moment to mentally backtrack to Kakyoin's actual question.]
With regards to your other question ... no, not really. Especially not as much as the Pistols and Spice Girl are. Most Stands seem to be more like a sort of psychic "limb"-- [Here, he loosely closes one hand into a fist and mimes throwing a punch in empty air.] which can be moved and directed as an extension of their users' bodies.
It's interesting to realize how many of them fall on that end of the scale I mentioned. Directing Hierophant's no different to me than using my own arm, but obviously that level of familiarity is no constant thing among Stand users. I wonder if that has something to do with a given Stand's independence level.
Buccellati, Abbacchio, and Narancia's Stands are-- [He falters briefly, his expression clouding over. "Were" is the appropriate word to use in this situation--except, of course, that Buccellati is alive and the others are not. Thankfully, English has a useful contraction that covers "are" and "were".] They're like that.
[He shakes his head, forcing himself to move on.] That would make sense. The more independent the Stand, the more necessary it becomes for it to have a personality.
... [Kakyoin caught the brief faltering, and knew enough of Passione that he understood why it shouldn't be questioned. It was better to stay on track as much as possible, focusing on the matter at hand.] So that's Sticky Fingers, Aerosmith, and...sorry, I don't think I ever heard much about Abbacchio's Stand.
What you're saying seems logical enough--although, that would imply that the remote control ones you described might tend towards possessing their own will and personality if they're to be so distant and independent from their users, does that make sense to you? And if that logic holds, the contradiction follows in that the only one I've met which I assume fell under such a category was-
[He pushed his glasses a little higher over scarred eyes, frowning.]
...it was just water. No will, no personality, no voice that I know of.
[Fugo nods, but doesn't elaborate further; not even to say that the name of Leone Abbacchio's Stand was Moody Blues. Even in death, he has the utmost respect for Abbacchio's desire to keep his abilities a secret from people he doesn't trust. In fact, he falls quiet as he thinks over the contradiction Kakyoin has presented him. They walk in silence, before he breaks it with a very important observation.]
I think that Stands, [he begins, his expression completely serious and his tone dryer than a desert,] are very similar to English. For every rule you try to lay down and define them by, there's always some irregular usage acting as an exception.
No wonder no one likes studying them. [He pauses, more briefly:] We should try making a set of general rules. And then give ourselves a headache with the number of Stands that don't follow them.
[Ah. He managed a laugh. Because his sense of humor is so dry, Fugo doesn't often make jokes. But he's pleased to see that, this time, it hit the right note and successfully chased away the gloomy cloud that was threatening to loom over the conversation.]
I mean, it would be an interesting exercise. But also one that I feel would inevitably end with two very frustrated researchers. Who would probably feel like taking that out on someone. And that's just not fair to Polnareff.
[The walk isn't bad. They keep up a good pace and while the countryside outside of the city is just as creepy and empty as the city itself, but it's at least those things in a pretty sort of way. Kakyoin is... fun to talk to, which is surprising. He wasn't expecting that out of this outing. Talking with him is easy in a way that it isn't with Giorno, sometimes, or Polnareff; it's more like sort of back-and-forth he used to have with Mista and Narancia, except there's less shouting and telling each other to fuck off.
It's nice. It helps him not to think (or, in other words: worry over) about what they're actually going out for: finding a relatively safe, quiet place for Kakyoin to meet Purple Haze.]
Hm...yeah, I think this should be far enough out. I seriously doubt we'll run into anyone on their way to the hot springs in this weather.
[He adjusted his glasses again, not nervous so much as slightly apprehensive. Keep your distance, keep Hierophant out of this, listen to Fugo's direction, he reminded himself. Everything would be fine as long as he didn't do anything stupid.]
[At this point, Fugo is holding himself in much the same way he did when he met Kakyoin: his movements are sharp and purposeful as he paces around the area, listening carefully for anyone who might accidentally come upon a place that is shortly going to become a very dangerous place to be.]
At least seven to eight meters. His physical range is only five meters, but the virus can spread beyond that. [He looks up, shading his eyes with his hands to squint up at the sky.] Given the weather and our location, the sun should kill it before it spreads too far in the case of an accident.
Okay. [He started taking a few steps back, carefully measuring his steps as he did. So sunlight affected it? Well...actually, that was reassuring. At least the killer virus had a weakness. Kakyoin stopped at what he'd estimated at seven and a half, folding his arms neatly behind his back and calling out:]
[Fugo measures the distance between them, worriedly biting the tip of his thumb... and then takes a few steps further away from Kakyoin. Just in case. It doesn't really make him feel any better.]
If he lunges, just-- [He sighs, restlessly running his hands through his hair.] You should be fine. He can't drag me with him. But please be prepared to move back.
[Fugo pulls a breath in and on the slow exhales, does his best to push away his worry; his fear that something was going to go wrong. He can't let himself feel any fear towards Kakyoin--not of him and not for him. After anger, fear is easiest emotion Purple Haze responds to.]
[The air between them, far closer to Fugo than it is to Kakyoin, twists and wrinkles: Purple Haze appears on the ground with his long limbs folded tightly together, a long streak of spittle hanging from the corner of his stitched-up mouth. He doesn't look like much. And then he twitches and rises to his feet, joints creaking and popping. Even standing slouched, spine curled and shoulders hunched, Purple Haze is too tall and too thin: he's a childish scrawl of an stitched-up bogeyman come to hideous life. He looks out at the empty air with wide, bloodshot eyes--and when he sees Kakyoin he snarls and whips around, the skin around his neck-stitches pulling and straining. Sunlight glints off of the six capsules between the knobby knuckles of his hands, which he's raised and made into fists.]
Don't. [Fugo coldly interrupts Purple Haze, pushing the word through clenched teeth. Ever a mirror of his own Stand, Fugo's hands are clenched into white-knuckled fists. He forces himself to relax his hands into a looser posture; as he does, Purple Haze's fingers uncurl and his arms jerkily fall back down to his sides.] Leave him be. That's Giorno's.
[Kakyoin didn't flinch at Purple Haze's reaction; that was the easy part. The hard part was forcing back his self-preservation instinct that coiled like a snake and threatened to manifest in an automatic response to pull him back. It's too open, that instinct said, too close and too open with nowhere to hide.]
[But he wasn't here to fight, and Fugo had specified no Hierophant.]
[So he didn't react, hands kept neatly behind his back and violet eyes narrowed to carefully scrutinize the other Stand from a distance.]
[This really was unlike any other he'd seen before, wasn't it? He did seem to fall closer to Star Platinum on the rough scale of independence; he was Fugo's, but not entirely Fugo. Even so, the longer he focused on the patchwork Stand and its motions, the more he could evaluate about its user. It was slender like Gold Experience suggesting its focus wasn't raw power--obviously, given what he'd already been told. But a humanoid Stand that wasn't built like Star Platinum or The World suggested its user fought through methods other than their strength. It was twitchy, possibly paranoid...definitely indicative of a temper or anger problem in its user, something Kakyoin could sympathize with. His eyes darted up to the Stand's face behind its visor, wondering briefly why its mouth was stitched over. Did that mean Fugo was more the quiet sort, or was there another angle to that?]
[...Fugo, he concluded, did an excellent job of holding his composure and keeping himself together. Enough that Kakyoin almost doubted his initial evaluation of his Stand in relation to its user's personality.]
[Almost.]
...
[At length, he took a breath and chose his response carefully.]
I'm impressed, Fugo. I'm not sure what I expected him to look like, but this is certainly fascinating. Is there a purpose to the visor, or does he just look that way like Hierophant's mask?
[Purple Haze wheezes, breath rattling in his chest like a penny dropped in an empty aluminum can, and watches Kakyoin with an intense, hateful regard. Fugo can feel the black anger rolling off him and it's so hard not to get caught up in it. He feels like a kite tied loosely to a fence post with a frayed string, Purple Haze's fury tugging at him like the winds of a quickly-building storm. Fugo grits his teeth, mentally digs his heels down, and shoves no back at his Stand. They aren't going to fight Kakyoin. Kakyoin isn't their enemy.
After a long moment, Purple Haze snarls again, lips curling back behind the stitches just enough for Kakyoin to catch a glimpse of ruined black teeth. He vents his temper by clumsily dragging his heel back and forth over the ground, with enough force to rip a gouge in the landscape of grass and dirt. He whirls again to stalk about the confines of his range, searching for an enemy that isn't there. His movements are a quick, but jerky; as if he's got a wicked-fast reaction time, but poor control of his own movements. Throughout it all, Fugo watches him like a hawk. When Purple Haze takes a step, so does Fugo; he's incredibly careful to keep out arm's reach, ever-wary and vigilant of the virus in his knuckles, and to try and place himself between Purple Haze and Kakyoin.]
What? [Focused as he is on Purple Haze, Fugo's voice comes out as a little foggy and disoriented. Ah. The helmet. Kakyoin is asking about why Purple Haze looks the way he does.] I don't-- know. It just is. It's always been like that. But I don't see what he sees very often. We just share pain, mostly.
Polnareff actually asked me once if he even had a mouth under the mask--he was expecting a beak for some absurd reason.
[Purple Haze's actions and Fugo's response were met with a quietly thoughtful hm under Kakyoin's breath. He was still very careful not to move, keeping his hands behind his back as he watched the Stand's movements.]
I can't see very much through Hierophant unless he's fully formed; it's hard to perceive more than shapes and sounds when you're looking through a tripwire. [His tone was light, casual--giving Fugo what little he could to attempt to put him at ease.]
[But watching Purple Haze's restless, sudden motions made it clear that wasn't going to work. (He was fast, unsurprisingly; smaller Stands usually were, with Star and The World as exceptions.) There was clearly a disconnect between them more than Jotaro and Star Platinum or Giorno and Gold Experience. Not out of control, but not fully controlled, either. It really did feel like watching the manifestation of a seriously short temper taken to its worst logical extreme, and as he considered the comparison further Kakyoin decided that must have been it.]
Sharing pain, though, that's the same for me. And pretty much the majority of Stand users I've had experience with. I'd even call that aspect 'normal', for whatever value of the word applies to people like us.
[The right amount of misdirected rage could hurt anyone and everyone indiscriminately, he thought with a look that drifted to the capsules on the Stand's knuckles. Even--no, especially the person carrying it in the first place.]
[Purple Haze registered as the kind of thing one would have to be stupid not to fear, and though he recognized the risk of he might kill me if I even twitch the wrong way, he wasn't so frightened as to step further back or prepare to defend himself. Fascination and caution were very carefully balanced as he watched both Stand and user with a genuinely interested stare.]
...You don't need to keep him out if you're uncomfortable. I think it's possible I have a fair start of the evaluation I was aiming for.
[The absurdity of Polnareff's question prompts a shaky chuckle out of Fugo. That's a nonsensical Polnareff sort of question, alright.]
I don't see or hear much of anything. Not unless we're both-- [He briefly pauses and rubs his eyes, trying to pin down with words it's like to be so tangled and yet so disconnected from his own Stand.] Sometimes when I let him carry me along, it's like I'm seeing double. Which should be confusing, in a sensory fashion, except when we're like that it just makes everything feel-- sharper. Clearer, like my usual vision is what isn't right.
[Purple Haze interrupts their conversation with a sharp shriek of dismay. He's frozen in his patrol, aghast at the sight of ... at spots of his own drool, which has dripped down in gooey, phlegmy strands onto his bony knees. Gross. He sort of half-crumples into a crouched position and begins frantically scratch and rub at the damp places with his wrist, using altogether too much force for such a minor problem. Fugo sighs, both exasperated and relieved; exasperated because it always hurts when Purple Haze does this, but relieved that he's temporarily distracted from his desire to kill something.]
We should be fine for a little while longer. [For the first time in the conversation since Purple Haze manifested, his eyes dart over to Kakyoin-- and is surprised to see him standing in place, cautious and fascinated but not openly afraid. It's sort of amazing.]
Ah--I get something like that too. [Kakyoin moved only enough to visibly perk up at what Fugo was saying, carefully composed but excited to find some kind of common ground there.] When I'm focusing on what Hierophant's seeing it's like...standing in two places at once. It's hard to describe without sounding like it should be incredibly disorienting, but it isn't very difficult at all as long as I keep my focus.
[He glanced from Fugo to Purple Haze at the shriek, again forcing back the fight-or-flight instinct that coiled and writhed like dozens of glittering snakes in the back of his mind--too open, too close, nowhere to hide--and outwardly, his only reaction was a raised eyebrow.]
[...'Particular about his appearance' wasn't something he'd have estimated about Fugo given his clothes, but he silently tacked that onto the evaluation regardless before glancing back to Purple Haze's user.]
If you're sure. I don't want to push the matter past what you're comfortable with, and I would like to introduce you to Hierophant a little more properly when we have a chance, if you want.
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[SURE ENOUGH, he'd be standing by the door patiently, Hierophant nowhere in sight.]
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Thanks for waiting.
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[LET'S GOOOOOO on a nice walk]
So, where were we? Were we talking about Pistols, or just independent Stands in general?
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I believe we've covered the gist of the Pistols. [Namely that they are great and anything else is a lame imitation. Get good, Hol Horse.] So unless you have any further compliments for them, I believe the subject at hand would be independent Stands in general.
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[Kakyoin frowned--it didn't bother him that Hierophant didn't speak, of course, but it still led him to wonder. They were occupying an odd middle ground between Stands like Hermit Purple and ones like Star Platinum; he didn't have a will that wasn't also Kakyoin's, but he looked like he could have. On the other side, the idea of an independently speaking and acting Hierophant made him a little uncomfortable. If he did that, they would be a pair instead of two halves that made one whole.]
Are independent ones common, in your experience?
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[God, Trish is great.]
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They're spectacular. She was really pleasant--we talked a little and I showed them Hierophant's emeralds, they really seemed interested in that.
[/cash register noises]
I was shocked, honestly. Spice Girl is on a whole other level from Pistols, and Stands like that are...they're really magnificent, honestly.
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[Because Trish is great. What. Were they talking about again? Fugo takes a moment to mentally backtrack to Kakyoin's actual question.]
With regards to your other question ... no, not really. Especially not as much as the Pistols and Spice Girl are. Most Stands seem to be more like a sort of psychic "limb"-- [Here, he loosely closes one hand into a fist and mimes throwing a punch in empty air.] which can be moved and directed as an extension of their users' bodies.
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It's interesting to realize how many of them fall on that end of the scale I mentioned. Directing Hierophant's no different to me than using my own arm, but obviously that level of familiarity is no constant thing among Stand users. I wonder if that has something to do with a given Stand's independence level.
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[He shakes his head, forcing himself to move on.] That would make sense. The more independent the Stand, the more necessary it becomes for it to have a personality.
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What you're saying seems logical enough--although, that would imply that the remote control ones you described might tend towards possessing their own will and personality if they're to be so distant and independent from their users, does that make sense to you? And if that logic holds, the contradiction follows in that the only one I've met which I assume fell under such a category was-
[He pushed his glasses a little higher over scarred eyes, frowning.]
...it was just water. No will, no personality, no voice that I know of.
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I think that Stands, [he begins, his expression completely serious and his tone dryer than a desert,] are very similar to English. For every rule you try to lay down and define them by, there's always some irregular usage acting as an exception.
No wonder no one likes studying them. [He pauses, more briefly:] We should try making a set of general rules. And then give ourselves a headache with the number of Stands that don't follow them.
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[...and then pressed a hand to his mouth to cover a sudden laugh.]
You're right. Trying to determine a strict outline wouldn't accomplish anything at all, would it?
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I mean, it would be an interesting exercise. But also one that I feel would inevitably end with two very frustrated researchers. Who would probably feel like taking that out on someone. And that's just not fair to Polnareff.
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[He shot Fugo a smirk that was about as mischievous as smirks could get, especially from a ~harmless honor student~.]
I'm sure he'll manage to live with it.
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[The walk isn't bad. They keep up a good pace and while the countryside outside of the city is just as creepy and empty as the city itself, but it's at least those things in a pretty sort of way. Kakyoin is... fun to talk to, which is surprising. He wasn't expecting that out of this outing. Talking with him is easy in a way that it isn't with Giorno, sometimes, or Polnareff; it's more like sort of back-and-forth he used to have with Mista and Narancia, except there's less shouting and telling each other to fuck off.
It's nice. It helps him not to think (or, in other words: worry over) about what they're actually going out for: finding a relatively safe, quiet place for Kakyoin to meet Purple Haze.]
Is this the place?
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[He adjusted his glasses again, not nervous so much as slightly apprehensive. Keep your distance, keep Hierophant out of this, listen to Fugo's direction, he reminded himself. Everything would be fine as long as he didn't do anything stupid.]
How far away would you like me to stand?
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At least seven to eight meters. His physical range is only five meters, but the virus can spread beyond that. [He looks up, shading his eyes with his hands to squint up at the sky.] Given the weather and our location, the sun should kill it before it spreads too far in the case of an accident.
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Is this far enough?
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If he lunges, just-- [He sighs, restlessly running his hands through his hair.] You should be fine. He can't drag me with him. But please be prepared to move back.
[Fugo pulls a breath in and on the slow exhales, does his best to push away his worry; his fear that something was going to go wrong. He can't let himself feel any fear towards Kakyoin--not of him and not for him. After anger, fear is easiest emotion Purple Haze responds to.]
[The air between them, far closer to Fugo than it is to Kakyoin, twists and wrinkles: Purple Haze appears on the ground with his long limbs folded tightly together, a long streak of spittle hanging from the corner of his stitched-up mouth. He doesn't look like much. And then he twitches and rises to his feet, joints creaking and popping. Even standing slouched, spine curled and shoulders hunched, Purple Haze is too tall and too thin: he's a childish scrawl of an stitched-up bogeyman come to hideous life. He looks out at the empty air with wide, bloodshot eyes--and when he sees Kakyoin he snarls and whips around, the skin around his neck-stitches pulling and straining. Sunlight glints off of the six capsules between the knobby knuckles of his hands, which he's raised and made into fists.]
Don't. [Fugo coldly interrupts Purple Haze, pushing the word through clenched teeth. Ever a mirror of his own Stand, Fugo's hands are clenched into white-knuckled fists. He forces himself to relax his hands into a looser posture; as he does, Purple Haze's fingers uncurl and his arms jerkily fall back down to his sides.] Leave him be. That's Giorno's.
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[But he wasn't here to fight, and Fugo had specified no Hierophant.]
[So he didn't react, hands kept neatly behind his back and violet eyes narrowed to carefully scrutinize the other Stand from a distance.]
[This really was unlike any other he'd seen before, wasn't it? He did seem to fall closer to Star Platinum on the rough scale of independence; he was Fugo's, but not entirely Fugo. Even so, the longer he focused on the patchwork Stand and its motions, the more he could evaluate about its user. It was slender like Gold Experience suggesting its focus wasn't raw power--obviously, given what he'd already been told. But a humanoid Stand that wasn't built like Star Platinum or The World suggested its user fought through methods other than their strength. It was twitchy, possibly paranoid...definitely indicative of a temper or anger problem in its user, something Kakyoin could sympathize with. His eyes darted up to the Stand's face behind its visor, wondering briefly why its mouth was stitched over. Did that mean Fugo was more the quiet sort, or was there another angle to that?]
[...Fugo, he concluded, did an excellent job of holding his composure and keeping himself together. Enough that Kakyoin almost doubted his initial evaluation of his Stand in relation to its user's personality.]
[Almost.]
...
[At length, he took a breath and chose his response carefully.]
I'm impressed, Fugo. I'm not sure what I expected him to look like, but this is certainly fascinating. Is there a purpose to the visor, or does he just look that way like Hierophant's mask?
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After a long moment, Purple Haze snarls again, lips curling back behind the stitches just enough for Kakyoin to catch a glimpse of ruined black teeth. He vents his temper by clumsily dragging his heel back and forth over the ground, with enough force to rip a gouge in the landscape of grass and dirt. He whirls again to stalk about the confines of his range, searching for an enemy that isn't there. His movements are a quick, but jerky; as if he's got a wicked-fast reaction time, but poor control of his own movements. Throughout it all, Fugo watches him like a hawk. When Purple Haze takes a step, so does Fugo; he's incredibly careful to keep out arm's reach, ever-wary and vigilant of the virus in his knuckles, and to try and place himself between Purple Haze and Kakyoin.]
What? [Focused as he is on Purple Haze, Fugo's voice comes out as a little foggy and disoriented. Ah. The helmet. Kakyoin is asking about why Purple Haze looks the way he does.] I don't-- know. It just is. It's always been like that. But I don't see what he sees very often. We just share pain, mostly.
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[Purple Haze's actions and Fugo's response were met with a quietly thoughtful hm under Kakyoin's breath. He was still very careful not to move, keeping his hands behind his back as he watched the Stand's movements.]
I can't see very much through Hierophant unless he's fully formed; it's hard to perceive more than shapes and sounds when you're looking through a tripwire. [His tone was light, casual--giving Fugo what little he could to attempt to put him at ease.]
[But watching Purple Haze's restless, sudden motions made it clear that wasn't going to work. (He was fast, unsurprisingly; smaller Stands usually were, with Star and The World as exceptions.) There was clearly a disconnect between them more than Jotaro and Star Platinum or Giorno and Gold Experience. Not out of control, but not fully controlled, either. It really did feel like watching the manifestation of a seriously short temper taken to its worst logical extreme, and as he considered the comparison further Kakyoin decided that must have been it.]
Sharing pain, though, that's the same for me. And pretty much the majority of Stand users I've had experience with. I'd even call that aspect 'normal', for whatever value of the word applies to people like us.
[The right amount of misdirected rage could hurt anyone and everyone indiscriminately, he thought with a look that drifted to the capsules on the Stand's knuckles. Even--no, especially the person carrying it in the first place.]
[Purple Haze registered as the kind of thing one would have to be stupid not to fear, and though he recognized the risk of he might kill me if I even twitch the wrong way, he wasn't so frightened as to step further back or prepare to defend himself. Fascination and caution were very carefully balanced as he watched both Stand and user with a genuinely interested stare.]
...You don't need to keep him out if you're uncomfortable. I think it's possible I have a fair start of the evaluation I was aiming for.
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I don't see or hear much of anything. Not unless we're both-- [He briefly pauses and rubs his eyes, trying to pin down with words it's like to be so tangled and yet so disconnected from his own Stand.] Sometimes when I let him carry me along, it's like I'm seeing double. Which should be confusing, in a sensory fashion, except when we're like that it just makes everything feel-- sharper. Clearer, like my usual vision is what isn't right.
[Purple Haze interrupts their conversation with a sharp shriek of dismay. He's frozen in his patrol, aghast at the sight of ... at spots of his own drool, which has dripped down in gooey, phlegmy strands onto his bony knees. Gross. He sort of half-crumples into a crouched position and begins frantically scratch and rub at the damp places with his wrist, using altogether too much force for such a minor problem. Fugo sighs, both exasperated and relieved; exasperated because it always hurts when Purple Haze does this, but relieved that he's temporarily distracted from his desire to kill something.]
We should be fine for a little while longer. [For the first time in the conversation since Purple Haze manifested, his eyes dart over to Kakyoin-- and is surprised to see him standing in place, cautious and fascinated but not openly afraid. It's sort of amazing.]
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[He glanced from Fugo to Purple Haze at the shriek, again forcing back the fight-or-flight instinct that coiled and writhed like dozens of glittering snakes in the back of his mind--too open, too close, nowhere to hide--and outwardly, his only reaction was a raised eyebrow.]
[...'Particular about his appearance' wasn't something he'd have estimated about Fugo given his clothes, but he silently tacked that onto the evaluation regardless before glancing back to Purple Haze's user.]
If you're sure. I don't want to push the matter past what you're comfortable with, and I would like to introduce you to Hierophant a little more properly when we have a chance, if you want.
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