[April, in a turn of phrase, is a shitty, shitty month. And the way Fugo is dealing with April being shitty is to grit his teeth, refuse he's having a bad time, and shove himself through the month day-by-day. Night-by-night is a different story, though. He's been sleeping very poorly, which is obvious by the huge circles under his eyes. Terra Felis is better than Woodhurst in every conceivable way, except for the part where he has to get used to the fact that it's a planet of cats. A cat planet.
So. Movies. Musicals, even. Fugo is quiet and attentive as he watches these first few ones, quick to provide facts and discuss historical points of Les Mis or parallels between West Side Story and Romeo and Juliet. He's completely baffled by the Little Shop of Horrors, though. There's a plate of snacks nearby that Giorno keeps nagging him to eat which, after a long-suffering sigh, Fugo reaches for to nibble at.
It's not very well-guarded, though. Just about anyone could steal those snacks.]
[12 AM to 4 AM]
[The point is, I'm not going to sleep. So there.
Fugo's own words would haunt him. You know, if he was awake enough to remember them. Throughout the night, he's made downright valiant attempts to stay awake. Although he obviously prefers to stay close to Giorno, he regularly gets up to walk around and stretch. He drinks water. Continues to nibble at snacks. Has even deigned to let someone paint his nails, although he spitefully picked the most obnoxiously bright color Mettaton had available.
However. Inevitably. During the second half of The Little Mermaid, around the time that Ariel loses her voice and gets her sea legs, it starts to happen. He blinks, long and slow; when his eyes are closed, his head bobs forward. There's even a moment where he drifts to lean heavily on Giorno's shoulder, when it seems like it might actually happen and he'll fall asleep.
But, no. Fugo is nothing if not stubborn. He catches himself every time, jerking back to a slightly more alert state of mind. The point is that he's not going to sleep.
So there.]
[5 AM to 7 AM]
[Except joke's totally on Fugo, because once Giorno convinced him to rest his head on his knees under the pretense of "let me play with your hair" he crashed in less than five minutes, just as Giselle poked her head through the manhole cover. And asleep he stays through the rest of Enchanted, Into the Woods, and even most of Sweeney Todd. He does wake up eventually, though, just in time for some great gruesome murder. He drowsily watches the rest of Mr. Barker's tragedy as it unfolds on screen, entirely disinclined to move. He's so quiet and still that it would be entirely understandable to assume that he's still asleep.
That is, during Chicago's press conference--(yes, oh yes, the gun, the gun, the gun!)--until his shoulders start to shake with laughter. Or, well: it's really more of a dark and spiteful chuckle that bubbles up from his stomach. But from someone as solemn as Fugo, the fact that this is happening at all and he isn't making any moves to hide or smother it is a downright miracle.]
God. Even in movies. [He gestures, sleepiness making his usual sharp manner of dismissively flicking his fingers wide and round.] They're useless, the whole lot of them. What a joke. She deserves to get away with it.
OTA!
[April, in a turn of phrase, is a shitty, shitty month. And the way Fugo is dealing with April being shitty is to grit his teeth, refuse he's having a bad time, and shove himself through the month day-by-day. Night-by-night is a different story, though. He's been sleeping very poorly, which is obvious by the huge circles under his eyes. Terra Felis is better than Woodhurst in every conceivable way, except for the part where he has to get used to the fact that it's a planet of cats. A cat planet.
So. Movies. Musicals, even. Fugo is quiet and attentive as he watches these first few ones, quick to provide facts and discuss historical points of Les Mis or parallels between West Side Story and Romeo and Juliet. He's completely baffled by the Little Shop of Horrors, though. There's a plate of snacks nearby that Giorno keeps nagging him to eat which, after a long-suffering sigh, Fugo reaches for to nibble at.
It's not very well-guarded, though. Just about anyone could steal those snacks.]
[12 AM to 4 AM]
[The point is, I'm not going to sleep. So there.
Fugo's own words would haunt him. You know, if he was awake enough to remember them. Throughout the night, he's made downright valiant attempts to stay awake. Although he obviously prefers to stay close to Giorno, he regularly gets up to walk around and stretch. He drinks water. Continues to nibble at snacks. Has even deigned to let someone paint his nails, although he spitefully picked the most obnoxiously bright color Mettaton had available.
However. Inevitably. During the second half of The Little Mermaid, around the time that Ariel loses her voice and gets her sea legs, it starts to happen. He blinks, long and slow; when his eyes are closed, his head bobs forward. There's even a moment where he drifts to lean heavily on Giorno's shoulder, when it seems like it might actually happen and he'll fall asleep.
But, no. Fugo is nothing if not stubborn. He catches himself every time, jerking back to a slightly more alert state of mind. The point is that he's not going to sleep.
So there.]
[5 AM to 7 AM]
[Except joke's totally on Fugo, because once Giorno convinced him to rest his head on his knees under the pretense of "let me play with your hair" he crashed in less than five minutes, just as Giselle poked her head through the manhole cover. And asleep he stays through the rest of Enchanted, Into the Woods, and even most of Sweeney Todd. He does wake up eventually, though, just in time for some great gruesome murder. He drowsily watches the rest of Mr. Barker's tragedy as it unfolds on screen, entirely disinclined to move. He's so quiet and still that it would be entirely understandable to assume that he's still asleep.
That is, during Chicago's press conference--(yes, oh yes, the gun, the gun, the gun!)--until his shoulders start to shake with laughter. Or, well: it's really more of a dark and spiteful chuckle that bubbles up from his stomach. But from someone as solemn as Fugo, the fact that this is happening at all and he isn't making any moves to hide or smother it is a downright miracle.]
God. Even in movies. [He gestures, sleepiness making his usual sharp manner of dismissively flicking his fingers wide and round.] They're useless, the whole lot of them. What a joke. She deserves to get away with it.