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[He quickly thumbs through the others, fishing out something a little more useful and pushing it across the desk towards Giorno.
THANK YOU
He then reaches for his pen, to write a little note:]
They should be useful for simple messages, at least.
I can write out or use the watches for anything more complicated.
He then reaches for his pen, to write a little note:]
I can write out or use the watches for anything more complicated.
[Out of curiosity, he reaches out to retrieve the card Fugo put back. When he sees what's on it, he can't not laugh a little bit, a short delighted giggle before he manages to stifle himself. He's so happy about having created a monster.]
Mm, I'd try to fix it, but if it's anything like mine it won't work.
[Tapping his chin with the card, he reaches out absentmindedly and feels Fugo's forehead. Not the worst, but not great.]
Why aren't you lying down?
Mm, I'd try to fix it, but if it's anything like mine it won't work.
[Tapping his chin with the card, he reaches out absentmindedly and feels Fugo's forehead. Not the worst, but not great.]
Why aren't you lying down?
[Fugo frowns, a little fussy, entirely because Giorno is making light of what he's sure is going to be a problem in the future. Someday, someone is going to explain to Star Platinum what pannacotta and then he is going to move out because that's an entirely reasonable fair course of action to take to ensure a life where he's not harassed by someone else's Stand about pudding. He waits patiently for Giorno to finish with his own fussing before he responds.]
Because I don't feel sick. My throat's just sore.
Besides, I'm finally switched back to daylight hours. I don't want to start over again.
Because I don't feel sick. My throat's just sore.
Besides, I'm finally switched back to daylight hours. I don't want to start over again.
Oh, I see.
[He is momentarily stymied. How is he to fuss when there is nothing to fuss about, nothing to fix? It's that same old frustration. But at the very least it's Fugo, who appears to be willing to put up with a lot from him. For . . . reasons that he isn't thinking about right now.]
Then me bothering you is actually very helpful. I'm keeping you alert and awake and on a good sleep cycle.
[Giorno smiles brightly, right as Gold Experience slides the stack of books carefully onto the desk at Fugo's other side. The top volume is thick, with tiny text and gold trim, and is about kelpies.]
You are very welcome, Fugo, I don't mind at all.
[He is momentarily stymied. How is he to fuss when there is nothing to fuss about, nothing to fix? It's that same old frustration. But at the very least it's Fugo, who appears to be willing to put up with a lot from him. For . . . reasons that he isn't thinking about right now.]
Then me bothering you is actually very helpful. I'm keeping you alert and awake and on a good sleep cycle.
[Giorno smiles brightly, right as Gold Experience slides the stack of books carefully onto the desk at Fugo's other side. The top volume is thick, with tiny text and gold trim, and is about kelpies.]
You are very welcome, Fugo, I don't mind at all.
[Fugo's pretty sure he's good on his own at coming up with new and creative ways to not sleep when he's tired-- but he knows that in the face of something he can't fix, Giorno does better when he distracts himself with something that he can. So Fugo nods and solemnly makes a circle with his forefinger and thumb to signify that yes, okay, Giorno is being very helpful by coming and keeping him company during the day and he very much appreciates it.]
[Oh, books! Finally. Fugo's a much more contained person, but it's hard to miss the way he perks up at the thump when Gold Experience situates the stack of books at his other elbow. He reaches to close the math textbook he was studying from, pushing it aside in favor of tugging down that tome about kelpies off the top of the stack and laying it open in what little space is left on the face of his text. He idly flicks through the first few pages, not yet reading in depth-- just appreciating that someone took the time to write a very serious-minded book about the behavior of sticky river horses.
As tempting as it is to ignore lunch and just hunker down to read this instead, he knows better than to ignore Giorno. He closes the book and reaches again for the cards, trying to find one that would quickly communicate how helpful these books will be. None of them are perfect, but he finds one that he settles on as good enough for the moment: he pulls out and presents the BEST card to Giorno and Gold Experience.]
[Oh, books! Finally. Fugo's a much more contained person, but it's hard to miss the way he perks up at the thump when Gold Experience situates the stack of books at his other elbow. He reaches to close the math textbook he was studying from, pushing it aside in favor of tugging down that tome about kelpies off the top of the stack and laying it open in what little space is left on the face of his text. He idly flicks through the first few pages, not yet reading in depth-- just appreciating that someone took the time to write a very serious-minded book about the behavior of sticky river horses.
As tempting as it is to ignore lunch and just hunker down to read this instead, he knows better than to ignore Giorno. He closes the book and reaches again for the cards, trying to find one that would quickly communicate how helpful these books will be. None of them are perfect, but he finds one that he settles on as good enough for the moment: he pulls out and presents the BEST card to Giorno and Gold Experience.]
[Truthfully, he would have been all right with a little ignoring. He's pleased enough at the fact that Fugo's smiled, that Fugo's so chatty even without actually speaking; the silly little gesture charms him into a grin, and he tucks his heels up on the handle of the lowest desk drawer.]
[So, yes, he would have been fine to entertain himself for at least a minute or two. But after a few moments of perusing the first volume, Fugo turns to him with the card, and . . .]
[Oh.]
[No, it's . . . both of them. Him and Gold Experience. The card is for both of them. There's a tremor of uncertainty that shivers in the air between them, just for a second or two, and for that moment Giorno actually looks startled.]
[Then he smiles, slow and crooked and genuine, and plucks the card from Fugo's fingers, presents it to Gold Experience, who takes it with unblinking uncertainty.]
Look at this. Fugo likes you, just like you like him.
[So, yes, he would have been fine to entertain himself for at least a minute or two. But after a few moments of perusing the first volume, Fugo turns to him with the card, and . . .]
[Oh.]
[No, it's . . . both of them. Him and Gold Experience. The card is for both of them. There's a tremor of uncertainty that shivers in the air between them, just for a second or two, and for that moment Giorno actually looks startled.]
[Then he smiles, slow and crooked and genuine, and plucks the card from Fugo's fingers, presents it to Gold Experience, who takes it with unblinking uncertainty.]
Look at this. Fugo likes you, just like you like him.
[Just like you like him. Common sense dictates that since Giorno likes him, it follows that so would Gold Experience. Still. Fugo's tickled to hear verbal confirmation that this theory is true. It occurs to him that for all they went through together back in April, everything that Gold Experience has done to help him heal, they have honestly never been properly introduced. So he smiles at Gold Experience, a little shy, and briefly lifts one hand in a belated wave. Hello, Gold Experience. It's nice to see you again.
[Sometimes . . . god. Sometimes Gold Experience makes his life exactly like an echo chamber. It's overwhelming, the way the waves of his Stand's feelings hit against the insides of his mind, rising up from nothing to suddenly appear, violent and bottomless and desperate. He's happy enough himself to see Fugo's smile, the simple sweet shyness of his gesture, but—]
[They rock Gold Experience's world. Giorno manages to contain his reaction to a quiet intake of breath, but it's difficult. His Stand is delighted in the way Gold Experience feels anything: every emotion, even the positive ones, sharp-edged as broken glass. It's not bad, though. Just jarring. A little cloying, maybe. But not bad, no.]
[And of course Gold Experience isn't nearly as subtle as Giorno'd like him to be. No, he startles visibly, back straightening as his gaze tracks the movements of Fugo's hand in the air. A breath, and he reaches forward, hand outstretched in a mirror of Fugo's wave, nearly close enough to touch before pulling back at the last minute. He turns to Giorno then, excited as a child, babbling under his breath, mudamudamuda.]
[Giorno winces, flapping his hand vaguely.]
All right, all right, already. I told you, he likes you.
[It's not clear who he's talking to, really. He does take the card back from Gold Experience, though, curls it slightly in both of his hands and ducks his head.]
He . . . likes that you're paying attention to him.
[That's significantly more transparent, at least.]
[They rock Gold Experience's world. Giorno manages to contain his reaction to a quiet intake of breath, but it's difficult. His Stand is delighted in the way Gold Experience feels anything: every emotion, even the positive ones, sharp-edged as broken glass. It's not bad, though. Just jarring. A little cloying, maybe. But not bad, no.]
[And of course Gold Experience isn't nearly as subtle as Giorno'd like him to be. No, he startles visibly, back straightening as his gaze tracks the movements of Fugo's hand in the air. A breath, and he reaches forward, hand outstretched in a mirror of Fugo's wave, nearly close enough to touch before pulling back at the last minute. He turns to Giorno then, excited as a child, babbling under his breath, mudamudamuda.]
[Giorno winces, flapping his hand vaguely.]
All right, all right, already. I told you, he likes you.
[It's not clear who he's talking to, really. He does take the card back from Gold Experience, though, curls it slightly in both of his hands and ducks his head.]
He . . . likes that you're paying attention to him.
[That's significantly more transparent, at least.]
[Fugo's shoulders bunch up, though not painfully, in surprise over Gold Experience's animated response. He's never seen the Stand react like that before; Gold Experience is often quiet, almost stoic. But he's lively now, chattering muda muda muda--(Is it a nonsense sound, or a word? If it's the latter, what does it mean?)--and waving. When Gold Experience pulls away, Fugo's hand drops lightly to the desk. He drums his fingers a few times, before closing the book on kelpies. It's carefully returned to its place at the top of the stack to make room for his notebook and pen.]
Can he read? If he can't, that's fine.
The message would be for both of you.
Can he read? If he can't, that's fine.
The message would be for both of you.
Um. He can read.
[That's strange, though, isn't it? The Pistols can, but they're special, more so than Gold Experience ever has been. It's not normal for a Stand to be able to read, or to be so . . . whatever Gold Experience is.]
[Giorno chews the inside of his cheek uncertainly, then tucks a stray wisp of hair behind his ear. His toes point just a little further towards the floor.]
I didn't know. Until recently. I didn't . . . teach him how, or anything like that. I suppose he just watched and learned. To write, too.
I honestly don't know why he does any of the things he does.
[Are you lonely, Gold Experience?]
[That's strange, though, isn't it? The Pistols can, but they're special, more so than Gold Experience ever has been. It's not normal for a Stand to be able to read, or to be so . . . whatever Gold Experience is.]
[Giorno chews the inside of his cheek uncertainly, then tucks a stray wisp of hair behind his ear. His toes point just a little further towards the floor.]
I didn't know. Until recently. I didn't . . . teach him how, or anything like that. I suppose he just watched and learned. To write, too.
I honestly don't know why he does any of the things he does.
[Are you lonely, Gold Experience?]
[Fugo watches Giorno's expression, tracking the little ways it changes--and, more significantly, the way he holds his face and the rest of himself still. It's not unfamiliar body language. In fact, it's reminiscent to the way Giorno carried himself when Buccellati first introduced him to the rest of the team. Small. Quiet. Unobtrusive.
(It's not like the Giorno he wanted to know better in Napoli, or the Giorno he's beginning to understand a little better in Ruby City. They're in turns bright and animated, sharp and dangerous. Giorno loves open and honestly and Giovanna protects what is his without flinching. Neither of them ever seem small.)
He thinks of the way Giorno pulled in a breath as Gold Experience became more animated. How he winced, the way he ducks his head. The almost dismissive way he gestured and spoke towards his Stand; how uncertainly he speaks now of Gold Experience's, quite honestly, amazing ability to read and understand independently of Giorno. Half a dozen little signs of too-familiar pain and sadness, all focused on Gold Experience.
Because it's Fugo, he has to take a moment to worry would this be all right, before he reaches up to catch Giorno's hand with his own as it drops back into his lap. But as he writes, his fingers loosely curl around Giorno's. This note takes a little more time. He writes slowly, choosing each word with care. When it's finished, he sets his pen aside and gestures for Gold Experience to come closer and so he can read what was written.]
I know you don't remember, because it hasn't happened for you yet.
But when we first saw each other again after a long time apart, you knew that I was hurt.
And before anything was said, before I even knew you were there, you healed me.
It meant a great deal to me then and still does today.
I'll never forget that morning.
Thank you.
(It's not like the Giorno he wanted to know better in Napoli, or the Giorno he's beginning to understand a little better in Ruby City. They're in turns bright and animated, sharp and dangerous. Giorno loves open and honestly and Giovanna protects what is his without flinching. Neither of them ever seem small.)
He thinks of the way Giorno pulled in a breath as Gold Experience became more animated. How he winced, the way he ducks his head. The almost dismissive way he gestured and spoke towards his Stand; how uncertainly he speaks now of Gold Experience's, quite honestly, amazing ability to read and understand independently of Giorno. Half a dozen little signs of too-familiar pain and sadness, all focused on Gold Experience.
Because it's Fugo, he has to take a moment to worry would this be all right, before he reaches up to catch Giorno's hand with his own as it drops back into his lap. But as he writes, his fingers loosely curl around Giorno's. This note takes a little more time. He writes slowly, choosing each word with care. When it's finished, he sets his pen aside and gestures for Gold Experience to come closer and so he can read what was written.]
I know you don't remember, because it hasn't happened for you yet.
But when we first saw each other again after a long time apart, you knew that I was hurt.
And before anything was said, before I even knew you were there, you healed me.
It meant a great deal to me then and still does today.
I'll never forget that morning.
Thank you.
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