[Even without the petty remarks, the failure to break any sort of ice is enough of a dagger. None of his tricks are working. He used to be so good at this, and here he is: failing on his first goodbye.
...maybe it just makes sense, with Giorno. They're too alike.
He combs his fingers through yellow curls, smoothing them out.] What do you want, Giorno? What can I do.
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...maybe it just makes sense, with Giorno. They're too alike.
He combs his fingers through yellow curls, smoothing them out.] What do you want, Giorno? What can I do.