[If hesitation could be conveyed through text, this was it.]
I'm not going to ask questions about where I am. I'm only going to ask questions that those who I'm seeking will understand.
1. Passione. The name should be enough to draw who I'm looking for out. 2. Stands. If this doesn't mean anything to you, don't worry about it.
Don't waste my time.
8-8
The streets were unfamiliar to Fugo. They were unlike the streets back in Italy. They were strange and everything put him on edge. He felt uneasy and he'd felt that way ever since arriving in this place. Trains made him uncomfortable, to say the least.
The last thing he remembered was getting back in Giorno's graces. He had wept openly in front of the young gang leader. It was hard to be welcomed back like that, but he didn't hate it. He hated the circumstances that lead up to it -- his overthinking. He hated how he felt abandoned. Feelings of helplessness at the deaths of the people he trusted. Calling Abbacchio a "friend" was not right -- a trusted team member, yes, but not a friend. Narancia, though...that was a friend. One he felt responsible for. Buccellati, too...No, not responsible for him, but something else. There was an emptiness inside.
Speaking of overthinking, a creeping feeling came over Fugo. Was he being followed? He didn't stop walking because he knew better than that; never let the one trailing you know you noticed. He pretended not ignore the feeling and kept going. He did allow a glance over his shoulder. Nonchalant...as nonchalant as he could be, anyway. Keep moving, don't let them know. Keep your guard up.
Or choose your own!
[OOC: I am playing him post-Purple Haze Feedback, meaning he knows the events of part 5.]
Pannacotta Fugo | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
[If hesitation could be conveyed through text, this was it.]
I'm not going to ask questions about where I am. I'm only going to ask questions that those who I'm seeking will understand.
1. Passione. The name should be enough to draw who I'm looking for out.
2. Stands. If this doesn't mean anything to you, don't worry about it.
Don't waste my time.
8-8
The streets were unfamiliar to Fugo. They were unlike the streets back in Italy. They were strange and everything put him on edge. He felt uneasy and he'd felt that way ever since arriving in this place. Trains made him uncomfortable, to say the least.
The last thing he remembered was getting back in Giorno's graces. He had wept openly in front of the young gang leader. It was hard to be welcomed back like that, but he didn't hate it. He hated the circumstances that lead up to it -- his overthinking. He hated how he felt abandoned. Feelings of helplessness at the deaths of the people he trusted. Calling Abbacchio a "friend" was not right -- a trusted team member, yes, but not a friend. Narancia, though...that was a friend. One he felt responsible for. Buccellati, too...No, not responsible for him, but something else. There was an emptiness inside.
Speaking of overthinking, a creeping feeling came over Fugo. Was he being followed? He didn't stop walking because he knew better than that; never let the one trailing you know you noticed. He pretended not ignore the feeling and kept going. He did allow a glance over his shoulder. Nonchalant...as nonchalant as he could be, anyway. Keep moving, don't let them know. Keep your guard up.
Or choose your own!
[OOC: I am playing him post-Purple Haze Feedback, meaning he knows the events of part 5.]