[Fugo's first foggy, exasperated thought is that he must have heard Joseph misspeak; he's not Giogio, that's Giorno. Then it clicks: he said Jojo not Giogio. Jojo, for Joseph Joestar.
His eyes go wide and then narrow. All around him, Giorno has gone tense and still. Because this is Joseph Joestar; while Fugo doesn't recognize his first name or know who he might be, Napoli is never far from his thoughts. He recognizes that surname, remembers its connection to the Speedwagon Foundation. This cannot be a coincidence. Fate doesn't work like that.]
[Fugo curls closer to Giorno and, with a surprisingly steady hand given his recent dizzy spell, reaches to take the water. He allows his fingers to purposefully brush against Giorno's: I'm still here, I can help cover, pick a direction and I will follow your lead.]
Joseph, then. [Even when he's this exhausted, Fugo is doing his best to work with what he has. If Joseph wants everyone to call him by his nickname, he'd get annoyed about being called by his surname. But still: Fugo refuses to call him Jojo. Giorno is Giogio. In his head it's as simple as that.] ... I'll take the carrots.
Don't you care about your arm?
[It... sure is still bleeding. Pretty profusely. Now that everything is coming back, little by little, Fugo finds himself running face-first into the familiar smell of blood. Ugh. Gross. And he left a trail of it too, back and forth on the floor, a smear from vaulting over the counter...]
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His eyes go wide and then narrow. All around him, Giorno has gone tense and still. Because this is Joseph Joestar; while Fugo doesn't recognize his first name or know who he might be, Napoli is never far from his thoughts. He recognizes that surname, remembers its connection to the Speedwagon Foundation. This cannot be a coincidence. Fate doesn't work like that.]
[Fugo curls closer to Giorno and, with a surprisingly steady hand given his recent dizzy spell, reaches to take the water. He allows his fingers to purposefully brush against Giorno's: I'm still here, I can help cover, pick a direction and I will follow your lead.]
Joseph, then. [Even when he's this exhausted, Fugo is doing his best to work with what he has. If Joseph wants everyone to call him by his nickname, he'd get annoyed about being called by his surname. But still: Fugo refuses to call him Jojo. Giorno is Giogio. In his head it's as simple as that.] ... I'll take the carrots.
Don't you care about your arm?
[It... sure is still bleeding. Pretty profusely. Now that everything is coming back, little by little, Fugo finds himself running face-first into the familiar smell of blood. Ugh. Gross. And he left a trail of it too, back and forth on the floor, a smear from vaulting over the counter...]