[Fugo sits down at his desk. And he waits. For once, he doesn't think of much; he doesn't try to get anything done. A pen finds its way out of its place in an organizer to the face of desk. He idly rolls it underneath his palm, up and down, until he can feel Bruno's footsteps approach the door again.]
Yes, I'm awake. [He plucks the pen off the desk and neatly returns it to its proper place. He shifts in place to face Bruno.] Thanks.
[When Bruno approaches, he holds up his hands to receive the plate. He sets it down on the desk in a typically particular Fugo way: perfectly centered, nudging it forward to be a certain distance from the edge of the desk.]
You've gotten better with manipulating objects. [With his claws and paws. Not too long ago, Bucciarati would not have been able to manage this on his own.]
no subject
Yes, I'm awake. [He plucks the pen off the desk and neatly returns it to its proper place. He shifts in place to face Bruno.] Thanks.
[When Bruno approaches, he holds up his hands to receive the plate. He sets it down on the desk in a typically particular Fugo way: perfectly centered, nudging it forward to be a certain distance from the edge of the desk.]
You've gotten better with manipulating objects. [With his claws and paws. Not too long ago, Bucciarati would not have been able to manage this on his own.]