[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.]
no subject
[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.]