No tickling. [Fugo agrees to this demand peaceably, mentally adding for now to it. Because he loves making Giorno laugh like that too much to give it up even for a day. He tips his head to the side, resting his temple on the back of the armchair and keeping his hand on Giorno's waist, and listens to Giorno talk. And then he takes a moment to think on the subject himself, turning it over in his head.]

Before today, [he starts, eyebrows coming together; he's still thinking, even now.] I thought I would never want to dress up for anyone again.

[To be respectable, to be obedient; to fall in line with what he's supposed to be. He did that for years and years, until one day he was just-- sick of it.]

But I like this. Because what you're wearing-- I can tell you were thinking of me when you picked it out, because of the colors, but they're still clothes you like. And I think it's those two things together that makes me smile the most. [He quirks a smile and taps his fingers, pinky to thumb, up along Giorno's side.] Laughing, though. That's just you being you.