[Holy shit, how much pudding does one person need? Like, Polnareff likes cheese sticks, but he keeps them in the fridge, thanks. But whatever, he's not going to judge-- and Chariot, certainly, is quite pleased with the selection, his arms reaching out eagerly. But that's because Polnareff is making him, not because he's sentient, no matter how much Giorno is pretending otherwise. Right?
Anyway. Chariot is dexterous enough, built for precision-- so he takes the cup carefully out of Giorno's hand, his fingers peeling back the label gently. The spoon is taken just as carefully, inserted into the cup-- he has to slide the spoon sideways between his helmet, but clearly there is a mouth back there, because he's eating it.
And there's a moment of hesitation, of uncertainty, and then--]
PAMI! Pami pami--!
[The voice is terribly high pitched and so clearly excited; Chariot immediately yanks the spoon out, dipping it into the pudding for a second scoop. That's all on his own, and Polnareff stares. Stands acting independent of their users isn't unheard of, but he's never seen Chariot act this way before.]
no subject
Anyway. Chariot is dexterous enough, built for precision-- so he takes the cup carefully out of Giorno's hand, his fingers peeling back the label gently. The spoon is taken just as carefully, inserted into the cup-- he has to slide the spoon sideways between his helmet, but clearly there is a mouth back there, because he's eating it.
And there's a moment of hesitation, of uncertainty, and then--]
PAMI! Pami pami--!
[The voice is terribly high pitched and so clearly excited; Chariot immediately yanks the spoon out, dipping it into the pudding for a second scoop. That's all on his own, and Polnareff stares. Stands acting independent of their users isn't unheard of, but he's never seen Chariot act this way before.]
You like eating?