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(continued from here!)
[Beneath the bench he's sitting on, Fugo restlessly taps the toe of his shoe on the ground. The unspoken "but" hangs heavily in the air between them. But since Akira doesn't say it, let alone elaborate, there's no simple way to pursue that line of conversation. So the conversation moves on.]
I'm impressed, [he has to admit,] about the amount and quality of housing available. [To all appearances, the Coven simply emptied out a wealthier neighborhood to house the influx of newcomers. Given the era, he would have expected something more like a slum. But as impressed as he is, he also can't help but be wary.] They seem to be very dedicated to helping us settle in.
[He looks back down at the lantern again, pensive. Even today, right now-- these sailors, they seemed generally eager to include them.]
[Beneath the bench he's sitting on, Fugo restlessly taps the toe of his shoe on the ground. The unspoken "but" hangs heavily in the air between them. But since Akira doesn't say it, let alone elaborate, there's no simple way to pursue that line of conversation. So the conversation moves on.]
I'm impressed, [he has to admit,] about the amount and quality of housing available. [To all appearances, the Coven simply emptied out a wealthier neighborhood to house the influx of newcomers. Given the era, he would have expected something more like a slum. But as impressed as he is, he also can't help but be wary.] They seem to be very dedicated to helping us settle in.
[He looks back down at the lantern again, pensive. Even today, right now-- these sailors, they seemed generally eager to include them.]
Edited 2019-10-24 00:48 (UTC)
It's impressive...
[ And even now, it doesn't sit well with him. A bunch of strangers from other worlds stumble into theirs, and they set them up in the most lavish housing available, all while people are suffering in slums outside the city walls. Even the refugees from Dorchact weren't shown the same kindness, as far as he's heard. ]
And hard to believe there wouldn't be strings attached.
[ There's that silent "but," only because Fugo seems to have that same subtle wariness to him that Akira feels about the whole thing. Maybe he's just been conditioned by past experiences, but it seems strange. ]
[ And even now, it doesn't sit well with him. A bunch of strangers from other worlds stumble into theirs, and they set them up in the most lavish housing available, all while people are suffering in slums outside the city walls. Even the refugees from Dorchact weren't shown the same kindness, as far as he's heard. ]
And hard to believe there wouldn't be strings attached.
[ There's that silent "but," only because Fugo seems to have that same subtle wariness to him that Akira feels about the whole thing. Maybe he's just been conditioned by past experiences, but it seems strange. ]
(continued from here!)
[Fugo falls quiet for a few steps. It's not that he's unable to recite the information Giorno has requested-- it's just uncomfortable, he thinks. He bites the inside of his cheek, troubled, before just... plowing through it.]
They mostly talked about what sort of changes one could expect. Elongated teeth and ears, sensitivity to sunlight, a craving for blood. They mentioned a transformation into a bat, but I was under the impression that it was bigger than what you described.
[He might be using the excuse of Giorno's tiny bat form to avoid talking about the whole ... undead part of being a vampire.]
[Fugo falls quiet for a few steps. It's not that he's unable to recite the information Giorno has requested-- it's just uncomfortable, he thinks. He bites the inside of his cheek, troubled, before just... plowing through it.]
They mostly talked about what sort of changes one could expect. Elongated teeth and ears, sensitivity to sunlight, a craving for blood. They mentioned a transformation into a bat, but I was under the impression that it was bigger than what you described.
[He might be using the excuse of Giorno's tiny bat form to avoid talking about the whole ... undead part of being a vampire.]
[Ah, there it is. The "but". The Coven has been very kind... but what is it they want? One doesn't displace an entire nobility of the upperclass without a lot of whining and moaning. There has been a very real expense for the city attached to their arrival. So what does the Coven get out of it? Why invest so much in strangers from another world and not the people of their own city.]
The Cwyld. By courting a population of new Witches and Monsters uninterested in long-term city life, they can fill out their ranks with people willing to take the risk in investigating and researching it.
[On top of that-- ... really, all of this is just extended assimilation tactics. The Coven wants the Mirrorbound to feel as if they have a place in Aefenglom. Or, at the very least, a debt to the city that has taken care of them upon stumbling into a new world.]
The Cwyld. By courting a population of new Witches and Monsters uninterested in long-term city life, they can fill out their ranks with people willing to take the risk in investigating and researching it.
[On top of that-- ... really, all of this is just extended assimilation tactics. The Coven wants the Mirrorbound to feel as if they have a place in Aefenglom. Or, at the very least, a debt to the city that has taken care of them upon stumbling into a new world.]
[It is uncomfortable. He doesn't particularly want to talk about this, but . . . he owes it to Fugo, he thinks, to be as open as possible. At least for now, he plans to stick to that. For now, he feels strongly that he needs to push past the discomfort to at least get to that one big awful point.]
[Fugo needs to know.]
There are two bat forms, I think. The full moon form is the big one. I haven't experienced that yet. It's probably coming soon.
[Maybe this month, even. What could be better than Fugo seeing him as an awful monster bat his first month here? Incredible.]
. . . The cravings have been a problem for a while. ["A problem." Pretty indicative of how he's coping: by not coping.] I'm still not entirely satisfied with my resources for dealing with them, but that's — not relevant, really.
[He looks out into the dark, fingers curling in Fugo's sleeve.]
Are those all the changes they mentioned? [How . . . sanitized.]
[Fugo needs to know.]
There are two bat forms, I think. The full moon form is the big one. I haven't experienced that yet. It's probably coming soon.
[Maybe this month, even. What could be better than Fugo seeing him as an awful monster bat his first month here? Incredible.]
. . . The cravings have been a problem for a while. ["A problem." Pretty indicative of how he's coping: by not coping.] I'm still not entirely satisfied with my resources for dealing with them, but that's — not relevant, really.
[He looks out into the dark, fingers curling in Fugo's sleeve.]
Are those all the changes they mentioned? [How . . . sanitized.]
[Fugo frowns. He doesn't... agree. It is relevant that Giorno doesn't have many sources of blood. It matters in the same way that it matters that Giorno is always cold, since coming to Aefenglom. It matters.]
[Distantly:] They rushed through their programming. [Given... that it started at 3:30 in the morning.] But there was one other thing.
[Some of you may feel tired, or physically weak in the coming weeks. Don't be alarmed, this is just your bodies beginning to--]
They said that vampires are undead. [Not quite dead. But not entirely alive, either. Something caught between the two.]
[Distantly:] They rushed through their programming. [Given... that it started at 3:30 in the morning.] But there was one other thing.
[Some of you may feel tired, or physically weak in the coming weeks. Don't be alarmed, this is just your bodies beginning to--]
They said that vampires are undead. [Not quite dead. But not entirely alive, either. Something caught between the two.]
[His lips thin in an unkind smile.]
I'm sure they did.
[And he's sure they watered it down, too. What Fugo says next actually surprises him. He can tell what Fugo is tiptoeing around: that they at least implied, if not stated explicitly, that before their transformation is complete, all vampires must die.]
[He's almost impressed with Miss Nessie, although he'd honestly rather die twice than say it in his out loud voice. Instead, cold fingers tighten reflexively on Fugo's sleeve, as though burying them in fabric will warm them somehow. Even though he knows better.]
That's true. Vampires are undead. [He wants to stick his hands up Fugo's sleeves. He wants to be home already. He wants to lie down. He wants to go home.] I'm not undead yet. I . . .
[Someone else's blood feels like it's curdling in his stomach. He keeps his eyes forward, gaze even and cool. He is not afraid, just like he hasn't been afraid, to verbalize this fact.]
I imagine I'll die soon. And then I'll come back.
I'm sure they did.
[And he's sure they watered it down, too. What Fugo says next actually surprises him. He can tell what Fugo is tiptoeing around: that they at least implied, if not stated explicitly, that before their transformation is complete, all vampires must die.]
[He's almost impressed with Miss Nessie, although he'd honestly rather die twice than say it in his out loud voice. Instead, cold fingers tighten reflexively on Fugo's sleeve, as though burying them in fabric will warm them somehow. Even though he knows better.]
That's true. Vampires are undead. [He wants to stick his hands up Fugo's sleeves. He wants to be home already. He wants to lie down. He wants to go home.] I'm not undead yet. I . . .
[Someone else's blood feels like it's curdling in his stomach. He keeps his eyes forward, gaze even and cool. He is not afraid, just like he hasn't been afraid, to verbalize this fact.]
I imagine I'll die soon. And then I'll come back.
[Giorno’s grip, Fugo notices, is tight on his arm. Painfully so. He doesn’t think Giorno realizes, or otherwise he would have stopped. It runs contrary to the calm way he speaks and his serene expression, or the way he toys with the sleeve of his borrowed coat. Fugo doesn't mention this; it doesn't bother him, not really, even if it is confusing. He's much more preoccupied with the much more upsetting and overwhelming reality of Giorno's condition.
Not undead. Yet. Soon, though. He's been here, alone from the rest of them, long enough that this transformation is nearing its final stages. He will die. He will still be himself, but he'll-- die. And there's a part of him that, stubbornly and childish, just want to scream at the thought. It's not fair. It's not right. It shouldn't be this way.]
Giorno. When that time comes-- [Here, he falters. Not because he doesn’t mean what he’s about to say, but because it’s gutwrenching just thinking about it. He finds himself caught on his words and in his steps, paralyzed by-- what? Not fear. Giorno’s death is not a possibility, but an inevitability of their new reality. His jaw clenches and his throat works, caught around a strange knot of emotion too tight to unravel.] If you would have me. There is nothing that could keep me from your side.
[He’ll stay. However long it takes for Giorno to die and come back-- he’ll stay. As long as Giorno wants him there, Fugo will be by his side.]
Not undead. Yet. Soon, though. He's been here, alone from the rest of them, long enough that this transformation is nearing its final stages. He will die. He will still be himself, but he'll-- die. And there's a part of him that, stubbornly and childish, just want to scream at the thought. It's not fair. It's not right. It shouldn't be this way.]
Giorno. When that time comes-- [Here, he falters. Not because he doesn’t mean what he’s about to say, but because it’s gutwrenching just thinking about it. He finds himself caught on his words and in his steps, paralyzed by-- what? Not fear. Giorno’s death is not a possibility, but an inevitability of their new reality. His jaw clenches and his throat works, caught around a strange knot of emotion too tight to unravel.] If you would have me. There is nothing that could keep me from your side.
[He’ll stay. However long it takes for Giorno to die and come back-- he’ll stay. As long as Giorno wants him there, Fugo will be by his side.]
[Doesn't he still have such a way with words.]
[At the very least, it's confirmation that Giorno's memory hasn't failed him. Fugo is Fugo, no matter where they are. When he's willing to speak from his soul (body, mind, soul), he does so with an earnestness, an honesty, that's unparalleled. People say Giorno has a silver tongue. They don't even know.]
[His eyes are wide when he turns to look at Fugo now — when his gaze is torn from its steely forward glare to meet the eyes of someone who, regardless of how thoroughly he was manipulated to get there, is at his side now. Will not be torn from his side now.]
[They aren't so far from home. Still, it feels important — feels imperative — to take Fugo by the shoulders and draw him under the eaves of some old and darkened house. To pull him close, hold him with cold hands cupping his cheeks, the pads of his fingers taking stock of his realness, of the fact that he is so, so alive, so very present. Searching eyes gone red with high emotion catch Fugo's in the dark and hold them, staring, suddenly so starkly lonely. Fucking desperate.]
[He's going to say something dignified, or pithy, or casual, or something. Instead, softly:] Do you promise?
[At the very least, it's confirmation that Giorno's memory hasn't failed him. Fugo is Fugo, no matter where they are. When he's willing to speak from his soul (body, mind, soul), he does so with an earnestness, an honesty, that's unparalleled. People say Giorno has a silver tongue. They don't even know.]
[His eyes are wide when he turns to look at Fugo now — when his gaze is torn from its steely forward glare to meet the eyes of someone who, regardless of how thoroughly he was manipulated to get there, is at his side now. Will not be torn from his side now.]
[They aren't so far from home. Still, it feels important — feels imperative — to take Fugo by the shoulders and draw him under the eaves of some old and darkened house. To pull him close, hold him with cold hands cupping his cheeks, the pads of his fingers taking stock of his realness, of the fact that he is so, so alive, so very present. Searching eyes gone red with high emotion catch Fugo's in the dark and hold them, staring, suddenly so starkly lonely. Fucking desperate.]
[He's going to say something dignified, or pithy, or casual, or something. Instead, softly:] Do you promise?
Yeah...
[ Something about it still doesn't sit right with him. It's true that it's a big benefit for them—Akira himself has been helping with investigating the Wilde when he can—but there's got to be more to it than that, right?
Pushing out a soft breath, Akira turns his focus to adding a few finishing touches to his lantern. ]
That's got to be part of it. It's impressive they've stood against it for this long.
[ Something about it still doesn't sit right with him. It's true that it's a big benefit for them—Akira himself has been helping with investigating the Wilde when he can—but there's got to be more to it than that, right?
Pushing out a soft breath, Akira turns his focus to adding a few finishing touches to his lantern. ]
That's got to be part of it. It's impressive they've stood against it for this long.
[Truthfully, Fugo doesn't like to be touched-- let alone being bodily grabbed and pulled around. It's uncomfortable and strange, even from Giorno. In a way they're both lucky that Giorno is so quick and so strong; he just doesn't have the time to react beyond flinching and going tense, body instinctively ready to fight.
But it's just Giorno. Giorno, whose cold hands have come up to hold his face; whose grip, which was painfully tight just a moment before, is so careful. His expression is... impossible to put into words. Icy. Determined. Wide-eyed and--]
[Pained, he thinks. He couldn't say way, except there is a familiar hollow, hungry look in Giorno's eyes.]
I promise. [Once caught in the gravity of Giorno's blood-red stare, Fugo does not look away. He allows himself to be pulled into it. He remembers the vow he made: body, heart, soul. I am yours. He doesn't flinch away from it.] I am yours, Giogio.
[There is only one path-- one future-- for him and it is to walk side-by-side with Giorno. There is nothing else.]
But it's just Giorno. Giorno, whose cold hands have come up to hold his face; whose grip, which was painfully tight just a moment before, is so careful. His expression is... impossible to put into words. Icy. Determined. Wide-eyed and--]
[Pained, he thinks. He couldn't say way, except there is a familiar hollow, hungry look in Giorno's eyes.]
I promise. [Once caught in the gravity of Giorno's blood-red stare, Fugo does not look away. He allows himself to be pulled into it. He remembers the vow he made: body, heart, soul. I am yours. He doesn't flinch away from it.] I am yours, Giogio.
[There is only one path-- one future-- for him and it is to walk side-by-side with Giorno. There is nothing else.]
[What Giorno asks, it's too casual. There are different words, better words, to use in reaffirming Fugo's oath. Just because he was caught off-guard, just because he was relieved, isn't an excuse for letting himself be so vulnerable. For casting it as a question rather than as a request.]
[Do you promise? Just because he's so desperate not to be alone when the time comes, and because he is too prideful to ask any of the other people he knows, even the ones who've offered. Just because he doesn't want to share his death with anyone who hasn't lost the way that he has. Just because he missed Fugo so terribly. He asked it like a frightened child, when he should know better than anyone that frightened children get what they can scrape up and nothing more.]
[And yet.]
[When Fugo responds, it's even. Assured, as Fugo only ever is in moments like this: one-on-one, when the path laid out forward is clear to him. When there is only one path, no choices. The only path Fugo sees is one in which he is Giorno's. The fork in Giorno's mind's eye, the one where he walks away, or at the very least turns his back — to Fugo, it doesn't exist.]
[I am yours, Giogio. It means that, even here, even like this, Fugo will follow his lead. Fugo will be his, just as he vowed to be back in Napoli. Monster or no, Fugo sees him as he is: Don Giovanna, just in another skin.]
[Something lets go in his posture, like one massive full-body sigh. He lets go of Fugo's face and, closing his eyes, leans in and wraps his arms loosely around Fugo's waist, rests his chin on his shoulder.]
Thank you. [Murmured, almost breathless in the crisp air.] I . . . we can go soon. Can I just — rest, for a second?
[Do you promise? Just because he's so desperate not to be alone when the time comes, and because he is too prideful to ask any of the other people he knows, even the ones who've offered. Just because he doesn't want to share his death with anyone who hasn't lost the way that he has. Just because he missed Fugo so terribly. He asked it like a frightened child, when he should know better than anyone that frightened children get what they can scrape up and nothing more.]
[And yet.]
[When Fugo responds, it's even. Assured, as Fugo only ever is in moments like this: one-on-one, when the path laid out forward is clear to him. When there is only one path, no choices. The only path Fugo sees is one in which he is Giorno's. The fork in Giorno's mind's eye, the one where he walks away, or at the very least turns his back — to Fugo, it doesn't exist.]
[I am yours, Giogio. It means that, even here, even like this, Fugo will follow his lead. Fugo will be his, just as he vowed to be back in Napoli. Monster or no, Fugo sees him as he is: Don Giovanna, just in another skin.]
[Something lets go in his posture, like one massive full-body sigh. He lets go of Fugo's face and, closing his eyes, leans in and wraps his arms loosely around Fugo's waist, rests his chin on his shoulder.]
Thank you. [Murmured, almost breathless in the crisp air.] I . . . we can go soon. Can I just — rest, for a second?
Edited 2019-11-03 03:00 (UTC)
[He doesn't know what to do. He's been unequipped to deal with this conversation more or less from the beginning, but Fugo finds himself caught off guard-- again-- when Giorno folds into him. This can't be comfortable, is Fugo's first awkward, not-quite-panicked thought. My shoulder is so bony. But Giorno doesn't seem to mind. His arms form a loose circle around Fugo's waist and he sighs, settling in.]
You're-- welcome? [He doesn't understand, really, what Giorno is thanking him for. He doesn't know what to say in return, or what to do. People don't just-- lean on him, or hold him. But here Giorno is. Relieved to see him. Grateful to hear his promise again.] It's fine. Take your time.
[Fugo stands, stiff and unmoving, for a long moment. He considers his options; weighs various courses of action. In the end, he pushes his arms underneath Giorno's to awkwardly return his embrace.]
... like this?
You're-- welcome? [He doesn't understand, really, what Giorno is thanking him for. He doesn't know what to say in return, or what to do. People don't just-- lean on him, or hold him. But here Giorno is. Relieved to see him. Grateful to hear his promise again.] It's fine. Take your time.
[Fugo stands, stiff and unmoving, for a long moment. He considers his options; weighs various courses of action. In the end, he pushes his arms underneath Giorno's to awkwardly return his embrace.]
... like this?
[There just isn't enough information. Or, maybe-- there's almost too much information. Just thinking about the details of his new day-to-day life gives him a headache. There are bound to be patterns in there somewhere, but he just hasn't been here long enough to try and suss them out.]
It's spread all over this continent, right? And it's what makes the land outside of the walls so dangerous. [Fugo frowns, grip tightening on his brush. Just where did it come from? Why are there such large parts of this city that haven't been protected from its encroaching infection? Why is the Coven spending so much on them, rather than striving to protect its own people? It just doesn't add up.]
It's spread all over this continent, right? And it's what makes the land outside of the walls so dangerous. [Fugo frowns, grip tightening on his brush. Just where did it come from? Why are there such large parts of this city that haven't been protected from its encroaching infection? Why is the Coven spending so much on them, rather than striving to protect its own people? It just doesn't add up.]
[Truth be told, even if Fugo shoved him off, he'd be slow to move. The adrenaline of the evening has left him all in a rush. He's exhausted now, from his fingernails to his marrow, and he can tell it's going to be a bad night, physically and maybe emotionally too. The latter he can weather. The former—]
[If he were alone, he'd reiterate that. That he could weather any kind of pain. But he can lean on Fugo; that's what Fugo's told him, not in so many words. So he does.]
[There's a pleased mmhm when Fugo tentatively hugs him back, and he curls in a little closer at the touch, but otherwise he doesn't move much until he's caught his breath. For the moment, at least. After a minute or two, he sighs and disentangles himself from Fugo, tipping his chin up to look him in the eye.]
Thank you. Sorry, I get tired.
[Which is strangely freeing to say. Hesitantly, he offers Fugo his arm.]
I'd like to get inside. Are you ready?
[If he were alone, he'd reiterate that. That he could weather any kind of pain. But he can lean on Fugo; that's what Fugo's told him, not in so many words. So he does.]
[There's a pleased mmhm when Fugo tentatively hugs him back, and he curls in a little closer at the touch, but otherwise he doesn't move much until he's caught his breath. For the moment, at least. After a minute or two, he sighs and disentangles himself from Fugo, tipping his chin up to look him in the eye.]
Thank you. Sorry, I get tired.
[Which is strangely freeing to say. Hesitantly, he offers Fugo his arm.]
I'd like to get inside. Are you ready?
Yeah. It's bad out there.
[ It's impossible to forget the state of things even in the slums right outside of the walls. Entire infirmaries of people suffering from the illness, many of the residents too old or young to defend themselves should something stumble out of the Wilde.
Puffing a stream of air up at his bangs to shift them out of his eyes, Akira sets down his paint brush. Even if he's almost certain there's more to it than meets the eye, it won't stop him from trying to help those people, just like the ones in Dorchact. ]
All done.
[ It's impossible to forget the state of things even in the slums right outside of the walls. Entire infirmaries of people suffering from the illness, many of the residents too old or young to defend themselves should something stumble out of the Wilde.
Puffing a stream of air up at his bangs to shift them out of his eyes, Akira sets down his paint brush. Even if he's almost certain there's more to it than meets the eye, it won't stop him from trying to help those people, just like the ones in Dorchact. ]
All done.
[Little by little, Fugo becomes less tense. He doesn't completely relax-- not out on the dark streets of a city he doesn't know, not when Giorno needs to rest. But as he grows used to Giorno's weight on his shoulder and the feeling of his arms around his waist, listening to the sound of his breathing become slow and even, he becomes less stiff and wooden underneath him. This is-- a hug. Giorno has embraced him. Fugo has returned the gesture. It's not bad.
When Giorno is ready to let him go and stand on his own again, their eyes meet. Giorno's eyes aren't red anymore, but they aren't quite blue again either. They're a strange in-between color, difficult to identify in the dark.]
It's alright. You surprised me, but I didn't mind. [Oh, this time-- Fugo blinks, owlish and puzzled by the reversal, before reaching to take Giorno's arm. It's usually the other way around. Though he wouldn't walk this way with anyone else, he doesn't even think twice about the gesture; in the short time he's come back to Passione, he's already started to normalize Giorno's habit of taking possession of his arm.] I'm ready.
When Giorno is ready to let him go and stand on his own again, their eyes meet. Giorno's eyes aren't red anymore, but they aren't quite blue again either. They're a strange in-between color, difficult to identify in the dark.]
It's alright. You surprised me, but I didn't mind. [Oh, this time-- Fugo blinks, owlish and puzzled by the reversal, before reaching to take Giorno's arm. It's usually the other way around. Though he wouldn't walk this way with anyone else, he doesn't even think twice about the gesture; in the short time he's come back to Passione, he's already started to normalize Giorno's habit of taking possession of his arm.] I'm ready.
[Fugo rolls with it. That makes him smile, a fond, tired expression sent sideways in the dark before they begin walking again. He folds Fugo's hand lightly between his elbow and his side — to warm his fingers, hopefully.]
I wanted to hug you when I saw you, [he admits.] But I didn't know if I should.
[Apparently, desperation breeds permission, at least in Giorno's head. He's quiet for a moment or two; thinks about saying thank you again, because he hasn't left the feeling of gratitude behind, because it's still dogging him. But he doesn't.]
[Instead:]
I live with two other people. They'll be asleep now, neither of them are entirely nocturnal, and I would have seen them at the Coven if they were out. Would it be all right if I told you about them before we get back? I don't want you to be surprised.
I wanted to hug you when I saw you, [he admits.] But I didn't know if I should.
[Apparently, desperation breeds permission, at least in Giorno's head. He's quiet for a moment or two; thinks about saying thank you again, because he hasn't left the feeling of gratitude behind, because it's still dogging him. But he doesn't.]
[Instead:]
I live with two other people. They'll be asleep now, neither of them are entirely nocturnal, and I would have seen them at the Coven if they were out. Would it be all right if I told you about them before we get back? I don't want you to be surprised.
You did? [Fugo is... puzzled. He's not sure why Giorno would want to hug him just by seeing him or why the question of if he "should" is a reason to hold back.] You don't need to worry about that. If it's you, I don't mind.
[It's strange to be held. But if Giorno is the one who wants to, he can deal with it. And that, as far as he's concerned, is that. He immediately refocuses his attention on the matter of Giorno's roommates. Giorno kept him close in Napoli; why would that be different here?]
Yes, that would be fine. Any information you are willing to share would be appreciated. [And then, before he forgets--] I'll adjust my schedule to better match yours.
[That, too, seems like a simple decision. After all, he was working nights in Milano; Aefenglom is a big enough city that it must have some sort of evening or night work for the people who live here, especially given its Monster populations.]
[It's strange to be held. But if Giorno is the one who wants to, he can deal with it. And that, as far as he's concerned, is that. He immediately refocuses his attention on the matter of Giorno's roommates. Giorno kept him close in Napoli; why would that be different here?]
Yes, that would be fine. Any information you are willing to share would be appreciated. [And then, before he forgets--] I'll adjust my schedule to better match yours.
[That, too, seems like a simple decision. After all, he was working nights in Milano; Aefenglom is a big enough city that it must have some sort of evening or night work for the people who live here, especially given its Monster populations.]
[Oh. Right, they were painting. Fugo glances down at his own mostly-finished lantern; there aren't many carrots left that need fronds, but he got distracted from the task. He then looks up at Akira's lantern.]
It turned out well. [He pauses, then clarifies:] Your lantern. Not-- [He gestures sharply with his brush, inadvertently flicking some paint, towards one of the city walls.] Out there.
[Fugo bites the inside of his cheek, frazzled by his own awkwardness, and then abruptly pushes the conversation forward.]
Sure to invite the-- good spirits? Into your house. And none of the bad ones.
It turned out well. [He pauses, then clarifies:] Your lantern. Not-- [He gestures sharply with his brush, inadvertently flicking some paint, towards one of the city walls.] Out there.
[Fugo bites the inside of his cheek, frazzled by his own awkwardness, and then abruptly pushes the conversation forward.]
Sure to invite the-- good spirits? Into your house. And none of the bad ones.
[That's . . . interesting. Something to think about. That Fugo wouldn't mind being hugged — at any time, apparently. Curious and unexpected. He hums, marking it in his memory, even if he has no idea how he feels about it at the moment other than faintly positive.]
[There's a laundry list of facts he wants to share about his housemates, but not before Fugo adds something that makes him jerk his head around in displeased surprise.]
What? Like hell you will!
[Well, that's vehement.]
Don't be ridiculous. It's not healthy. Our waking hours will overlap fine, so go to sleep at night. [How is this a conversation he's even having right now?]
[There's a laundry list of facts he wants to share about his housemates, but not before Fugo adds something that makes him jerk his head around in displeased surprise.]
What? Like hell you will!
[Well, that's vehement.]
Don't be ridiculous. It's not healthy. Our waking hours will overlap fine, so go to sleep at night. [How is this a conversation he's even having right now?]
[At Giorno's side, Fugo tenses. Under most circumstances, this is the point where he'd be willing to fold-- but not about this. He's prepared to be stubborn and, failing official permission, slowly adjust his schedule so it matches up anyway.]
I worked nights in Milano, I'll find a way to work nights here. I don't sleep well at night anyway, so it won't be a problem.
I worked nights in Milano, I'll find a way to work nights here. I don't sleep well at night anyway, so it won't be a problem.
It's not healthy!
[Why are you like this, is the clear undercurrent here.]
There's no need, Fugo. There's absolutely no need. I won't have you making yourself sick just to indulge me.
[Which. Has to be why he's offering, right? What other reason could there possibly be?]
[Why are you like this, is the clear undercurrent here.]
There's no need, Fugo. There's absolutely no need. I won't have you making yourself sick just to indulge me.
[Which. Has to be why he's offering, right? What other reason could there possibly be?]
(continued from here!)
[That... is somewhat of a surprise. Really? These people find regular reasons to celebrate, despite the crisis lurking outside of the city gates? He's not sure if that speaks to the resilience of the city, or regular mismanagement of its resources.]
That's... honestly impressive. Given the tensions within the city walls and how dangerous it is outside of them. [He idly fidgets with his suitcuffs, before posing, a touch too casually to truly be all that casual, his next question.] Have there been any festivals that you enjoyed in particular? In your time here.
[Six months. Half a year. To be honest, it's difficult for him to imagine. Half a year, caught up in the troubles of a world that is not your own.]
[That... is somewhat of a surprise. Really? These people find regular reasons to celebrate, despite the crisis lurking outside of the city gates? He's not sure if that speaks to the resilience of the city, or regular mismanagement of its resources.]
That's... honestly impressive. Given the tensions within the city walls and how dangerous it is outside of them. [He idly fidgets with his suitcuffs, before posing, a touch too casually to truly be all that casual, his next question.] Have there been any festivals that you enjoyed in particular? In your time here.
[Six months. Half a year. To be honest, it's difficult for him to imagine. Half a year, caught up in the troubles of a world that is not your own.]
Edited 2019-12-05 04:06 (UTC)
[It's tempting to just snap. What do you know about it? is what he'd like to ask, except that's not fair at all. Giorno would know plenty at this point.]
It's something that I'm used to. Strategically speaking, it makes better sense for us to try align our schedules for as much overlap as possible. If you're concerned about my Vitamin D intake, there are ways to supplement it.
[Firmly:] It won't kill me to wake up in the late afternoon rather than the morning.
It's something that I'm used to. Strategically speaking, it makes better sense for us to try align our schedules for as much overlap as possible. If you're concerned about my Vitamin D intake, there are ways to supplement it.
[Firmly:] It won't kill me to wake up in the late afternoon rather than the morning.
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