[It’s probably not surprising that Giorno’s first response to being denied is dissatisfaction. Only at the level of a pout, fortunately, since he knows on some level that it isn’t Fugo’s fault; he can’t know everything, no matter how clever he is. So his reaction drifts between resentment at the Witch’s presence, sulkiness at not being able to leave instantaneously, and a consistent low-level delight at Fugo’s cleverness. It’s odd, a disorientation only exacerbated by the sudden jolt of pleasure at wresting his wrist out of Fugo’s grip and sliding their fingers together.]
[Through the Bond, possessiveness is warmly wicked, sharp and clutching but with teeth that don’t bite down, the milk teeth of a young and benevolent predator. Giorno, as he’s led out of the Bond room, is flushed and smiling, following Fugo’s lead with bright-eyed delight.]
Are you taking me home? [Asked as he catches up, after a brief and slightly disoriented pause; he stumbles up the steps, tugs Fugo’s hand towards the exit.] We don’t have to go anywhere else, do we? [Something yearning here. He just wants Fugo now. To not have to do anything else, or be responsible. To just feel the Bond for a little while.]
no subject
[Through the Bond, possessiveness is warmly wicked, sharp and clutching but with teeth that don’t bite down, the milk teeth of a young and benevolent predator. Giorno, as he’s led out of the Bond room, is flushed and smiling, following Fugo’s lead with bright-eyed delight.]
Are you taking me home? [Asked as he catches up, after a brief and slightly disoriented pause; he stumbles up the steps, tugs Fugo’s hand towards the exit.] We don’t have to go anywhere else, do we? [Something yearning here. He just wants Fugo now. To not have to do anything else, or be responsible. To just feel the Bond for a little while.]