[At this point, she wonders if she would even be able to stand on her own if she were to allow his hand to slip through her fingers. It certainly doesn't feel like it. Her legs feel too heavy as she forces each one forward towards the ceremony chamber.

His words offer her some comfort, however, and it shows in the slight slackening of her shoulders. Perhaps she would recognize the front he's putting up if she hadn't waited until the last second to go through with this, but at the moment that facade of confidence in his reassurance is like a balm to her frayed nerves. She doesn't match his smile - that's another thing she feels like she can't do at the moment - but her lips waver in a way that suggests she might've, if the situation were different.]

I would... appreciate that. If it isn't long. I fear I do not know how eloquent I can be at the moment; I... did not want you to hold it against me if I cannot come up with some masterful prose at the last second.

[Of course, the standards she holds herself to are miles higher than just about anyone else would consider reasonable, and Giorno likely doesn't necessarily need the insight offered by the Bond to see that, but, you know. There are only so many boundaries one can push against in a single night.]