[ perhaps that is what does it, the fact that Giorno seems to not feel awkward in the slightest — Stiles simply sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. if Giorno feels it's alright... then maybe it is. it's something that will stick with him, later, when he thinks back to this, how Giorno so often simply does, without any sort of cognizance over his actions being anything but normal; but now he lets it pass, focuses on his words instead, his soothing tone, the hand that still combs through his hair. ]

Fugo helped me earlier, you know. This morning. I was going to drive... he didn't let me. Not without binding my arm first.

[ now, in the absence of all that pain, it seems impossible to think he'd ever thought it would be possible, driving like that... that he managed to do it in the first place. he makes a mental note to thank Fugo later — perhaps ironically, what with Giorno's response to his current offering of gratitude. ]

I'm sure my ghost would be really sorry about that, [ he mutters, eyes blinking open again. ] I won't, I promise. I'm not going to die on you. I wouldn't... do that to you. [ turning his head slightly, he looks at Gold Experience, still on the front seat. ] You, too. Thanks, I know you helped.