[No one should have to, Fugo says, and Giorno flinches. Even with his hand caught up in Fugo's, he feels struck. And then again, something hits him in the gut: I'm poison.]

[He hates it. It's just too real, too familiar. It's ugly, and every time he sees hemlock on the network it makes him want to scream or be sick or disappear.]

[He doesn't do either. His mouth forms a tight, taut line, trying to hold back not anger but hurt. He isn't angry with Fugo, he just--doesn't understand why he jabs at himself like this. Or maybe he does understand, and that makes it worse.]

Don't say it like that, [he hisses, his lips barely parting. The look in his eyes isn't one of a man giving an order, though; he's a boy pleading, please don't, Fugo, please don't, not anymore.] You know that's--not accurate.

[Not precisely. An exaggeration. Albeit perhaps an emotionally apt one, from Fugo's perspective.]

[Giorno's jaw tightens. He looks at Jin, bright and present in himself again as he begs in a different direction.]

It's his Stand. It's an ability his Stand has. It's something that needs to be factored into our tactics going forward. You needed to know--so you understand what we have to do to get out of here.