[Fugo's nose scrunches up in a fussy sort of way at the kiss.]
I want it known, for the record, that I think by saying that you're still teasing me. At least a little.
[He knows what a bully Giorno is. He knows how easy it is for anyone, but especially Giorno, to bully him. It's sort of a recipe for disaster.]
[He takes the tin, turn it around carefully in his hands. He's a little tempted to shake it, but thankfully refrains. Instead, once the pattern is facing in a way he likes, he carefully eases the lid off to look at... what have to be the most complicated, silly cookies he's ever seen. He half-chuckles just at the sight at them, because how could he not?]
How did you get all those details? [The stripes on the sweater are impressively even. And although they're too small for actual notes, he can see little speckles in the scarf of the ridiculous piano costume. He carefully looks them over before picking, not quite at random, the umbrella. Like the tin, he turns the cookie around to examine the front, back, and middle.] We should go to the beach again once it's less miserable out.
[Okay, cookie properly examined. Time to give it a try. Ah! His eyebrows go up, reflecting his surprise when the tartness of the compote fully registers.]
no subject
I want it known, for the record, that I think by saying that you're still teasing me. At least a little.
[He knows what a bully Giorno is. He knows how easy it is for anyone, but especially Giorno, to bully him. It's sort of a recipe for disaster.]
[He takes the tin, turn it around carefully in his hands. He's a little tempted to shake it, but thankfully refrains. Instead, once the pattern is facing in a way he likes, he carefully eases the lid off to look at... what have to be the most complicated, silly cookies he's ever seen. He half-chuckles just at the sight at them, because how could he not?]
How did you get all those details? [The stripes on the sweater are impressively even. And although they're too small for actual notes, he can see little speckles in the scarf of the ridiculous piano costume. He carefully looks them over before picking, not quite at random, the umbrella. Like the tin, he turns the cookie around to examine the front, back, and middle.] We should go to the beach again once it's less miserable out.
[Okay, cookie properly examined. Time to give it a try. Ah! His eyebrows go up, reflecting his surprise when the tartness of the compote fully registers.]