[He slips in around eight, though he'd left Dio near dawn. It was soothing to wander for a while in the empty streets, hands shoved in his pockets, mind working and thoughts whirling. He'd smoked too much, down half a pack in less than three hours, but there are worse ways to cope. Anyone within a ten foot radius will smell what he's been doing, but that's their problem, not his.
Nevertheless, the scent of coffee hits him when he slips in, and though he has a damn good idea of who might be waiting for him, he heads to the kitchen. Best to get this over with now, before anyone else wakes up, before it becomes something that isn't just the two of them. Three of them. Whichever.
Giorno looks immaculate. Not just fresh, but perfect, as though he'd just sat down, as though nothing was wrong. Polnareff knows he looks a damn sight worse, but at least his expression is nearly as neutral. Someone like Giorno might be able to pick up on a few emotions-- fear, grief, exhaustion, and even apathy-- but he tries to keep them all tucked away as he moves to spin a chair and straddle it.]
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Nevertheless, the scent of coffee hits him when he slips in, and though he has a damn good idea of who might be waiting for him, he heads to the kitchen. Best to get this over with now, before anyone else wakes up, before it becomes something that isn't just the two of them. Three of them. Whichever.
Giorno looks immaculate. Not just fresh, but perfect, as though he'd just sat down, as though nothing was wrong. Polnareff knows he looks a damn sight worse, but at least his expression is nearly as neutral. Someone like Giorno might be able to pick up on a few emotions-- fear, grief, exhaustion, and even apathy-- but he tries to keep them all tucked away as he moves to spin a chair and straddle it.]