Steve agrees, so long as he doesn't mind that he's dealing with some unexpected changes right now. He also asks for a couple hours to freshen up first, what with his whole week long stint in the woods. He doesn't specify that during those hours he intends on visiting a clothing shop that caters to monsters, where he makes one of the tailors there very happy. It helps him feel a little more like himself, but doesn't change how incredibly aware he is of how broad his shoulders are, how far he has to duck down in order to make it through doorways, how even the cars passing in the lanes beyond the curb somehow seem to be too small.
At least for the first time in over a month he's not imagining monsters in the city's shadows, too busy thinking about the one in his denim jacket.
The last stipulation included in his response was that they should meet outside, for no particular reason than that it's nice out. Steve stuffs himself in the back of the van and finds someone available to drop him off, at which point he makes his way up to the grassy heights of the hill that makes up the house Giorno resides within, his big body treading carefully so he doesn't accidentally punch a padded foot through one of the skylights.
That mindfulness doesn't last once he spots Giorno after what's been over seven days. All bets are off as he drops down onto all fours and bounds toward him despite all of the effort he's put into looking less like a dog, his tail kicking up a storm behind him. He reaches the nymph in mere seconds, big tongue lolling out to swipe up the side of his face.
Then, he pulls back, claps a hand over his muzzle, and stares in horror at the thick swathe of man-dog drool leading all the way up into Giorno's hairline. ]
post-camping trip
Steve agrees, so long as he doesn't mind that he's dealing with some unexpected changes right now. He also asks for a couple hours to freshen up first, what with his whole week long stint in the woods. He doesn't specify that during those hours he intends on visiting a clothing shop that caters to monsters, where he makes one of the tailors there very happy. It helps him feel a little more like himself, but doesn't change how incredibly aware he is of how broad his shoulders are, how far he has to duck down in order to make it through doorways, how even the cars passing in the lanes beyond the curb somehow seem to be too small.
At least for the first time in over a month he's not imagining monsters in the city's shadows, too busy thinking about the one in his denim jacket.
The last stipulation included in his response was that they should meet outside, for no particular reason than that it's nice out. Steve stuffs himself in the back of the van and finds someone available to drop him off, at which point he makes his way up to the grassy heights of the hill that makes up the house Giorno resides within, his big body treading carefully so he doesn't accidentally punch a padded foot through one of the skylights.
That mindfulness doesn't last once he spots Giorno after what's been over seven days. All bets are off as he drops down onto all fours and bounds toward him despite all of the effort he's put into looking less like a dog, his tail kicking up a storm behind him. He reaches the nymph in mere seconds, big tongue lolling out to swipe up the side of his face.
Then, he pulls back, claps a hand over his muzzle, and stares in horror at the thick swathe of man-dog drool leading all the way up into Giorno's hairline. ]
Oh, god—