[Before he begins to move, Fugo stares at his screen. Not for long: only as long as it takes for him to memorize Giorno's directions, which isn't very. When he's finished, he closes the lid of the machine and his eyes. Draws in a deep breath; lets it go. And then, he stands, and gets to work.]
[He descends into the hills and changes into his work clothes: dark, unremarkable, easy to wash. He retrieves, from out of the tallest cabinets in the kitchen, the tools he will use to dismember the body and the various containers he will store the pieces in. He loads it all into into the trunk of one of their cars, already lined with a tarp. And then he loads himself in, long legs folding awkwardly around the driver's seat to rest behind him in the back.
He drives. He tries not to think. He focuses on the task at hand: on making it to Giorno's side as quickly as he reasonably can.]
[The location isn't far. Giorno's directions were very clear; Fugo has no trouble making it to the cove in question. There is no one here; it is very quiet, save for the murmur of the water in the distance and the hum of the car's engine, and very still. Fugo turns the car off, pulls the key out of the ignition, and kills the headlights. Knowing Giorno, he won't be within sight of the road. And he can see well enough in the dark anyway. Fugo steps out of the car. Before anything else, he makes sure to have all of his legs on the ground: he wants to get a sense of who, if anyone, might be around them.]
no subject
[Before he begins to move, Fugo stares at his screen. Not for long: only as long as it takes for him to memorize Giorno's directions, which isn't very. When he's finished, he closes the lid of the machine and his eyes. Draws in a deep breath; lets it go. And then, he stands, and gets to work.]
[He descends into the hills and changes into his work clothes: dark, unremarkable, easy to wash. He retrieves, from out of the tallest cabinets in the kitchen, the tools he will use to dismember the body and the various containers he will store the pieces in. He loads it all into into the trunk of one of their cars, already lined with a tarp. And then he loads himself in, long legs folding awkwardly around the driver's seat to rest behind him in the back.
He drives. He tries not to think. He focuses on the task at hand: on making it to Giorno's side as quickly as he reasonably can.]
[The location isn't far. Giorno's directions were very clear; Fugo has no trouble making it to the cove in question. There is no one here; it is very quiet, save for the murmur of the water in the distance and the hum of the car's engine, and very still. Fugo turns the car off, pulls the key out of the ignition, and kills the headlights. Knowing Giorno, he won't be within sight of the road. And he can see well enough in the dark anyway. Fugo steps out of the car. Before anything else, he makes sure to have all of his legs on the ground: he wants to get a sense of who, if anyone, might be around them.]