[Mrs. Erina Joestar would be forgiven for not immediately recognizing Pannacotta Fugo as one of Giorno's friends. He's very different from Mista, who was by his side from the very beginning. Fugo appears, out of thin air and without much context, between Erina's summer visit and her next in the fall.
He's remarkably good at blending into the background, despite his oftentimes loud choice in clothing. He slides in and out of conversation, more comfortable with reports and delivering messages than he is with any sort of personal conversation. He's never rude to Erina, although she likely hears rumors of his temper; but he's not warm with her either, always taking a step back when she attempts to close the distance. All in all, he behaves much more like one of Giorno's employees than his friend.
Except, most days, Fugo calls Giorno by name. And when he doesn't, he calls him Giogio.]
[Today, their lives have brushed shoulders in that Fugo is the one to pick Erina up from the airport to drive her to Giorno's home. When she visits, Giorno feels safer-- and less worried about her own safety-- these days with her closer by than put up in a hotel. Mista is usually the one to do this job, but Giorno couldn't spare him today. So when Erina disembarks and scans the crowd it's cool and distant Fugo standing with a sign with her name on it (embellished, of course, with a tell-tale ladybug detail) waiting for her. He nods when she spots him and waves, half a second too late, stiff and more than a little awkward.]
Good afternoon. I trust your flight went smoothly? [As always, Fugo speaks to her in English; he speaks the language well, with only the faintest hint of an accent.]
[ Erina's flight was very long; though the Speedwagon Foundation is always quick to make sure she is comfortable, that doesn't erase the fact that Erina herself is unused to the mode of transportations she must take now. At least once on terra firma again, she can relax again.
Once she sees Fugo, she strides over to him and smiles. He's a responsible, friendly (but stiff) young man. But not warm, certainly. Like a stray cat unsure if he ought to trust the hand extended to him.]
What a pleasant surprise to see you, Mr. Fugo. Yes, the flight was fine, but still a bit louder than I always expect it to be. Have you been well? And the others?
[It's something Mista's said she's done too, always asking how he's doing before pressing on to Giorno or anyone else she knows.]
[Erina's question doesn't come as a surprise to him. He has overheard Mista talking about it, more than once, with Giorno and Sheila E and Trish. Mista and Trish appreciate the gesture. Sheila E doesn't see the point and is, frankly, suspicious about this line of questioning.]
I have been fine. Thank you for asking. [Fugo's answer is, unsurprisingly, the same as it always is. It doesn't matter where the time between Erina's visits falls on the not so bad to awful scale, because her question is just a pleasantry. A social nicety, to get the conversation started. It's whatever.] The others are well enough. Follow me, please.
I'm glad to hear it. I'll be gladder still when we're away. All the noise here is still something I haven't yet gotten used to.
[And that's the weirder thing: she always sounds like she means it. As though she is invested in the people around Giorno. Perhaps she is, after all. Giorno is more-or-less her stepson, it would make sense to be sure everyone around him is doing well.
And here, too, she sounds sincere, even as she follows after Fugo. ]
Giorno had written to say his English is improving, do you have a hand in that?
[After all, barely having a trace of an accent puts Fugo well ahead of Baron Zeppeli.]
There is a car waiting for us. Once we pick up your luggage, we can be on our way.
[Fugo moves quickly through the crowd. Not so fast that Erina can't keep up, but it's obvious he doesn't want to linger in the noise and crowd of the airport. He self-consciously brushes his bangs out of his eyes before he answers Erina's question.]
He asked me to practice with him, yes. [And prepare some lessons for him. Giorno can't attend school every day, or even most days, but he's determined not to fall behind. English practice wormed its way into this schoolwork because Giorno is equally determined to speak with Erina in the language she's most familiar with.] He's a quick learner. [He pauses, a little awkward, before adding:] He's been looking forward to showing you what he's learned.
[She hides a little giggle into her gloved hand. There are many things about Giorno that are not like Jonathan at all (and how could there be, when the boy had eyes that could be wide as saucers one moment, and shrewd and calculating - cold, even - the next?) and very much like Jonathan with his ability to throw himself into his studies. (And while it wasn't as though Dio was unintelligent, she would tear her own tongue out first.)
Erina wants to tell Fugo this, that also the boy might have been sired by Dio, that was Jonathan's gift to him. Instead she smiles her secret little smile and continues talking.]
I am sure he'll impress me; and it's clear he values your opinion if he's asking you to practice with him.
[Fugo's jaw tightens him. Erina's compliment bothers him; it itches just underneath his skin, but he can't quite dismiss it out of hand. That would be disrespectful to Giorno and, as Erina quite rightly says, the trust he has offered to him.]
He also practices with Mr. Polnareff. [It's a little dishonest. Giorno also practices his English with Polnareff, but Fugo is the one who prepares lesson plans, runs through flash cards, and grades his quizzes.] I just happen to be fluent and available to practice with.
[ That isn't a surprise, but the fact a ghost lives in a tortoise is still a bit beyond the pale for her. ]
That's lovely to hear. It is unfortunate that if I can speak with my family I must learn two additional languages. Hindi and Punjabi were much easier.
[Because she lived in India for a spell, it had behooved her to better understand the people that worked under her father (or what the shopkeepers rapid command of their language were trying to barter her into buying when she went accompanied with a - for lack of a better word - chaperone).]
But needs must.
[ Erina shrugged gave an ever-so-not Victorian shrug. Modern day affectations were starting to bite into her high strung mannerisms. ]
And I am no slouch when it comes to educating myself if need be. But it isn't a matter of disappointing me or not. I am simply happy to communicate as best we can.
Of course. I see. I apologize for the misunderstanding. I'm sure it won't take you long to master them, ma'am.
[As stiff and overly formal as his words are, he does genuinely mean most of them. When Giorno first told them about Erina Joestar, née Pendleton-- it wasn't appropriate, he knows it wasn't, but he convinced Murolo to help him look into her. There wasn't much to find. Just a few scraps, gleaned from records and news articles.
Erina is a woman from a bygone time, literally, who died fifty years ago a wealthy but largely unremarkable (by history's standards, anyway) widow. He learned that her father was a doctor, that her family lived for a time in India, and that before she married she worked long hours as a nurse in her father's hospital. Fugo knows that she has survived Dio Brando's vampiric bullshit, a boiler explosion, and three days on the Atlantic without food or water.
Fugo doesn't trust her. But he understands this: Erina Joestar has grit. She is stubborn. If needs must, she will set her shoulders back and get it done.]
[By this point they've made it to the baggage carousel, which has already started unloading the stowed luggage from Erina's flight.]
What color is your luggage? If you're tired, I can pick it up for you.
One hopes. But I am told that English is a bit harder to learn than than other languages. So really, I've the easier job, when I think on it.
[She smiles cheerily. While she is tired, Erina isn't sure if it is still gentlemanly for a man to get the luggage or if she must. But with his offer, she might as well take advantage of it where she can.
Her luggage isn't slow to arrive, but it isn't quick, either. Instead it sits between someone's garishly stamped fake designer luggage, and what appears to be a smaller, child-sized piece decorated with little frogs and a bright yellow handle. It is neither too large nor too small, and bears a lock. Just in case.]
It's blue, with white spots, Mr. Fugo. I'd be grateful if you would. You'll be happy to know it isn't a trunk.
[Fugo squints at the carousel, hunting for Erina's luggage. When he spots it, he slips into the crowd to meet it, sharply glaring at some poor businessman who tries to push his way in front of him. He passes by, without thinking much of it, a young woman talking on a cellphone loosely holding the hand of her fidgety, restless daughter.
"Mom! There it is! Mom! We're going to miss it!" Frustrated by her mother's lack of response, the girl tugs her hand free and darts off to try and catch her suitcase. It's tightly packed around the carousel, with no one willing to make way for a child, despite her protests, that isn't their responsibility.
When she makes her way to Fugo, there's a short exchange that Erina is too far to hear-- but from the way the girl points, frantically, at her soon-to-disappear luggage, he reaches out to pull it off of the conveyer belt for her. The girl beams. Fugo says something else, single finger held up in a chastising gesture, to which the girl stubbornly blows a raspberry in reply before she turns to march proudly back to her mother.]
[Of course, in all this fuss, Fugo has missed Erina's luggage on the first pass. He has to wait, arms folded across his chest and fingers tapping impatiently on his arm, for it to come around again before he can retrieve it and bring it back to Erina.]
Sorry for the delay. The crowd was thick. Are you hungry? If you'd like something to eat, I can arrange to pick something up along the way to Giorno's.
[Erina smiles at his exchange with the child. It did irk her somewhat that her mother ignored her, but that was the nature of parenthood sometimes. She tried not to think of her own current absence in regards to George.
She chuckled as he came back with her luggage.]
There's not a thing to apologize for. Retrieving that little girl's luggage was very kind of you, and well worth waiting a bit longer. Though, I'm not hungry. It can certainly wait until later.
[After all, she usually had something light to eat around teatime, and the small meal provided in-flight had taken care of that.]
[Again, Fugo's jaw tightens and his shoulders tighten up. Although he understands that, most likely, Erina is just trying to be friendly-- it bothers him. He doesn't want her to get to know him. It's not necessary.]
No. I intervened because she was making a scene. It's not appropriate for a kid like that to run off on her own.
[Which is, really, why he helped. When he says it's not appropriate what he means is it's not safe. The simplest solution to the issue was to get the girl's luggage and send her back to her mother's side, as quickly as possible.]
[Clearly, Erina decides, she will need to tell Giorno about this little moment of kindness. It was less the child's fault than the distracted mother's. George would always be close by, between the watchful eyes of herself, Speedwagon, and his nanny.
She heaves a soft sigh at the thought. It was hard to push her thoughts away from her son at times, but she managed and looked at Fugo. Once they were outside and near the car, Erina looked at Fugo again.]
I apologize; I seem to constantly be making missteps in your regard. Though, I do enjoy your company - brief as it often is.
[As they walk together, Fugo doesn't make any further conversation. He tries to keep his thoughts focused on what's in front of him: navigating the airport, getting Erina to the car, ensuring she makes it back safely back to Giorno's side. He's been entrusted with this task, even though it doesn't suit him, so it's his responsibility to see it through to the best of his abilities. As they walk to the waiting car, her words make his grip tighten on his suitcase.]
It's fine. You don't need to apologize to me. [He turns his face to the side, as if he's on the lookout for something or someone suspicious-- but really, he doesn't want to look her in the eye. What he's going to say next, although necessary for her to understand the distance between himself and the others, makes him feel vulnerable to admit.] But what you're looking for, you're better off reaching out to Mista and Trish. Just leave me out of it. That's all.
[That much is obvious. He doesn't understand it and doesn't think he ever will, but it would be stupid to ignore the evidence in front of his eyes. Giorno's ability to read others just can't be beaten; if Erina was lying about her intentions, or even just dishonest, Giorno would not have let her get this close. It's as simple as that.]
If you want to get to know his friends, Mista and Trish are your best options. They're the two people closest to him and better company. That's all I meant.
[By this point, they've made it to the car. Rather than answer Erina's question, Fugo reaches for the rear passenger side door to hold it open for her. His movements are stiff, but his expression is at least calm.]
Presume whatever you like. I'm not going to answer any personal questions. If you aren't hungry, we'll be returning directly to Giorno's residence.
[What an odd response to a yes or no questions. Still, Erina decides not to hold it against him. Perhaps he really is simply the help here. Though that seems to not line up with the way others talk about him.
Well, for now, she will not pry. She slides into the back seat with a very polite thank you.]
That sounds wonderful. Please do not be alarmed if I doze off here; it was a very long flight.
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He's remarkably good at blending into the background, despite his oftentimes loud choice in clothing. He slides in and out of conversation, more comfortable with reports and delivering messages than he is with any sort of personal conversation. He's never rude to Erina, although she likely hears rumors of his temper; but he's not warm with her either, always taking a step back when she attempts to close the distance. All in all, he behaves much more like one of Giorno's employees than his friend.
Except, most days, Fugo calls Giorno by name. And when he doesn't, he calls him Giogio.]
[Today, their lives have brushed shoulders in that Fugo is the one to pick Erina up from the airport to drive her to Giorno's home. When she visits, Giorno feels safer-- and less worried about her own safety-- these days with her closer by than put up in a hotel. Mista is usually the one to do this job, but Giorno couldn't spare him today. So when Erina disembarks and scans the crowd it's cool and distant Fugo standing with a sign with her name on it (embellished, of course, with a tell-tale ladybug detail) waiting for her. He nods when she spots him and waves, half a second too late, stiff and more than a little awkward.]
Good afternoon. I trust your flight went smoothly? [As always, Fugo speaks to her in English; he speaks the language well, with only the faintest hint of an accent.]
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Once she sees Fugo, she strides over to him and smiles. He's a responsible, friendly (but stiff) young man. But not warm, certainly. Like a stray cat unsure if he ought to trust the hand extended to him.]
What a pleasant surprise to see you, Mr. Fugo. Yes, the flight was fine, but still a bit louder than I always expect it to be. Have you been well? And the others?
[It's something Mista's said she's done too, always asking how he's doing before pressing on to Giorno or anyone else she knows.]
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I have been fine. Thank you for asking. [Fugo's answer is, unsurprisingly, the same as it always is. It doesn't matter where the time between Erina's visits falls on the not so bad to awful scale, because her question is just a pleasantry. A social nicety, to get the conversation started. It's whatever.] The others are well enough. Follow me, please.
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[And that's the weirder thing: she always sounds like she means it. As though she is invested in the people around Giorno. Perhaps she is, after all. Giorno is more-or-less her stepson, it would make sense to be sure everyone around him is doing well.
And here, too, she sounds sincere, even as she follows after Fugo. ]
Giorno had written to say his English is improving, do you have a hand in that?
[After all, barely having a trace of an accent puts Fugo well ahead of Baron Zeppeli.]
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[Fugo moves quickly through the crowd. Not so fast that Erina can't keep up, but it's obvious he doesn't want to linger in the noise and crowd of the airport. He self-consciously brushes his bangs out of his eyes before he answers Erina's question.]
He asked me to practice with him, yes. [And prepare some lessons for him. Giorno can't attend school every day, or even most days, but he's determined not to fall behind. English practice wormed its way into this schoolwork because Giorno is equally determined to speak with Erina in the language she's most familiar with.] He's a quick learner. [He pauses, a little awkward, before adding:] He's been looking forward to showing you what he's learned.
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Erina wants to tell Fugo this, that also the boy might have been sired by Dio, that was Jonathan's gift to him. Instead she smiles her secret little smile and continues talking.]
I am sure he'll impress me; and it's clear he values your opinion if he's asking you to practice with him.
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He also practices with Mr. Polnareff. [It's a little dishonest. Giorno also practices his English with Polnareff, but Fugo is the one who prepares lesson plans, runs through flash cards, and grades his quizzes.] I just happen to be fluent and available to practice with.
He won't disappoint.
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[ That isn't a surprise, but the fact a ghost lives in a tortoise is still a bit beyond the pale for her. ]
That's lovely to hear. It is unfortunate that if I can speak with my family I must learn two additional languages. Hindi and Punjabi were much easier.
[Because she lived in India for a spell, it had behooved her to better understand the people that worked under her father (or what the shopkeepers rapid command of their language were trying to barter her into buying when she went accompanied with a - for lack of a better word - chaperone).]
But needs must.
[ Erina shrugged gave an ever-so-not Victorian shrug. Modern day affectations were starting to bite into her high strung mannerisms. ]
And I am no slouch when it comes to educating myself if need be. But it isn't a matter of disappointing me or not. I am simply happy to communicate as best we can.
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[As stiff and overly formal as his words are, he does genuinely mean most of them. When Giorno first told them about Erina Joestar, née Pendleton-- it wasn't appropriate, he knows it wasn't, but he convinced Murolo to help him look into her. There wasn't much to find. Just a few scraps, gleaned from records and news articles.
Erina is a woman from a bygone time, literally, who died fifty years ago a wealthy but largely unremarkable (by history's standards, anyway) widow. He learned that her father was a doctor, that her family lived for a time in India, and that before she married she worked long hours as a nurse in her father's hospital. Fugo knows that she has survived Dio Brando's vampiric bullshit, a boiler explosion, and three days on the Atlantic without food or water.
Fugo doesn't trust her. But he understands this: Erina Joestar has grit. She is stubborn. If needs must, she will set her shoulders back and get it done.]
[By this point they've made it to the baggage carousel, which has already started unloading the stowed luggage from Erina's flight.]
What color is your luggage? If you're tired, I can pick it up for you.
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[She smiles cheerily. While she is tired, Erina isn't sure if it is still gentlemanly for a man to get the luggage or if she must. But with his offer, she might as well take advantage of it where she can.
Her luggage isn't slow to arrive, but it isn't quick, either. Instead it sits between someone's garishly stamped fake designer luggage, and what appears to be a smaller, child-sized piece decorated with little frogs and a bright yellow handle. It is neither too large nor too small, and bears a lock. Just in case.]
It's blue, with white spots, Mr. Fugo. I'd be grateful if you would. You'll be happy to know it isn't a trunk.
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[Fugo squints at the carousel, hunting for Erina's luggage. When he spots it, he slips into the crowd to meet it, sharply glaring at some poor businessman who tries to push his way in front of him. He passes by, without thinking much of it, a young woman talking on a cellphone loosely holding the hand of her fidgety, restless daughter.
"Mom! There it is! Mom! We're going to miss it!" Frustrated by her mother's lack of response, the girl tugs her hand free and darts off to try and catch her suitcase. It's tightly packed around the carousel, with no one willing to make way for a child, despite her protests, that isn't their responsibility.
When she makes her way to Fugo, there's a short exchange that Erina is too far to hear-- but from the way the girl points, frantically, at her soon-to-disappear luggage, he reaches out to pull it off of the conveyer belt for her. The girl beams. Fugo says something else, single finger held up in a chastising gesture, to which the girl stubbornly blows a raspberry in reply before she turns to march proudly back to her mother.]
[Of course, in all this fuss, Fugo has missed Erina's luggage on the first pass. He has to wait, arms folded across his chest and fingers tapping impatiently on his arm, for it to come around again before he can retrieve it and bring it back to Erina.]
Sorry for the delay. The crowd was thick. Are you hungry? If you'd like something to eat, I can arrange to pick something up along the way to Giorno's.
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She chuckled as he came back with her luggage.]
There's not a thing to apologize for. Retrieving that little girl's luggage was very kind of you, and well worth waiting a bit longer. Though, I'm not hungry. It can certainly wait until later.
[After all, she usually had something light to eat around teatime, and the small meal provided in-flight had taken care of that.]
Do you like children, Mr. Fugo?
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No. I intervened because she was making a scene. It's not appropriate for a kid like that to run off on her own.
[Which is, really, why he helped. When he says it's not appropriate what he means is it's not safe. The simplest solution to the issue was to get the girl's luggage and send her back to her mother's side, as quickly as possible.]
This way, please.
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Yes, of course. Lead the way.
[Clearly, Erina decides, she will need to tell Giorno about this little moment of kindness. It was less the child's fault than the distracted mother's. George would always be close by, between the watchful eyes of herself, Speedwagon, and his nanny.
She heaves a soft sigh at the thought. It was hard to push her thoughts away from her son at times, but she managed and looked at Fugo. Once they were outside and near the car, Erina looked at Fugo again.]
I apologize; I seem to constantly be making missteps in your regard. Though, I do enjoy your company - brief as it often is.
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It's fine. You don't need to apologize to me. [He turns his face to the side, as if he's on the lookout for something or someone suspicious-- but really, he doesn't want to look her in the eye. What he's going to say next, although necessary for her to understand the distance between himself and the others, makes him feel vulnerable to admit.] But what you're looking for, you're better off reaching out to Mista and Trish. Just leave me out of it. That's all.
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[She raises an eyebrow at Fugo's barrier, then frowns slightly.]
What do you believe I am looking for, Mr. Fugo?
[She doesn't wish to press the issue, not really, but something about it sets her gears to grinding.]
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[That much is obvious. He doesn't understand it and doesn't think he ever will, but it would be stupid to ignore the evidence in front of his eyes. Giorno's ability to read others just can't be beaten; if Erina was lying about her intentions, or even just dishonest, Giorno would not have let her get this close. It's as simple as that.]
If you want to get to know his friends, Mista and Trish are your best options. They're the two people closest to him and better company. That's all I meant.
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[She chalked most of that to them being Italians, honestly. Things were much more staid and slow (and significantly less noisy) in her time.]
But you are a little more what I am used to in conversation, Mr. Fugo. Admittedly, you do not talk much.
[And specifically, Erina tends to speak when spoken to, content to listen to others chatter away.]
I presume you do not think of yourself as Giorno's friend, then?
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Presume whatever you like. I'm not going to answer any personal questions. If you aren't hungry, we'll be returning directly to Giorno's residence.
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Well, for now, she will not pry. She slides into the back seat with a very polite thank you.]
That sounds wonderful. Please do not be alarmed if I doze off here; it was a very long flight.