[He finishes his errands-- which would take a lot less time if they just had money and he didn't have to do everyone a thousand favors just to get a bunch of nails, like, god, what is this, one of Kakyoin's video games?-- within an hour, as promised, and by then it's fairly late. Late enough that he takes care to be quiet as he deposits his stuff in his room and heads down to Giorno's.
It's become familiar, this routine. Not something he does every night-- but often enough that knocking and waiting at Giorno's door doesn't feel too different than doing it at Jotaro and Kakyoin's.
Which is good. Because it would be a lie to say he was entirely without apprehension; that he hadn't considered backing out with some excuse about exhaustion. But-- it's like with Jotaro. There's not going to be mockery; it's not as if Giorno's going to open the door and laugh in his face. And who knows? Maybe he'll just watch Giorno do it to himself, or let him talk about it. Nothing's set in stone.]
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It's become familiar, this routine. Not something he does every night-- but often enough that knocking and waiting at Giorno's door doesn't feel too different than doing it at Jotaro and Kakyoin's.
Which is good. Because it would be a lie to say he was entirely without apprehension; that he hadn't considered backing out with some excuse about exhaustion. But-- it's like with Jotaro. There's not going to be mockery; it's not as if Giorno's going to open the door and laugh in his face. And who knows? Maybe he'll just watch Giorno do it to himself, or let him talk about it. Nothing's set in stone.]