middaeg | OPEN

[During his time in Milano, Fugo worked more than his share of part-time jobs. Cashier, waiter, busboy. Except for his last job, where he played piano overnight in a bar that wanted to be more white collar than it really was, none of them lasted long; between swinging wildly between ill-tempered and listless, any positions where he had to deal directly with people were just disasters waiting to happen. Jobs like this one, where the only person he has to coordinate with is his employer, are better.

On days where the classes he signed up for aren't meeting in the Coven, Fugo spends a few cunes to borrow a squeaking bicycle and cycles down to the riverbank. There, he'll spread a checked blanket on the bank to lay his cut reeds on to dry until he's satisfied that he has enough for the afternoon. Then he gathers them into bundles, ties the bundles to a rack on the back of his bicycle, and pushes the whole kit and kaboodle until he reaches a road maintained-enough to make the trip back to Brayer's.]

[It's possible to run into him during any point of this, in various stages of muddiness. (These pants will never be the same and aren't going to be good for anything but gardening.) He's quiet and mostly keeps to himself, except--]

Wait-- [Stranger or acquaintance, as awkward as it is, Fugo doesn't hesitate to grab the arm of anyone unlucky enough to be working this stretch of riverbank; his grip is uncomfortably tight, and would be difficult to pull out of. He gestures sharply with his chin to a particular patch of reeds, that would be indistinguishable from the rest of the patch... except for the part where it wasn't there a moment ago. And, upon closer inspection, a pair of yellow-green eyes are staring out from under them. His grip tightens, before he pulls his hand back.] Reedile. If there's one, there's bound to be more. ... we should move on.

[There's no sugarcoating it: the Outer City is nothing but a slum, more or less abandoned to its fate by the rest of the city. Nerissa was more delicate about it when she visited his abjuration class to recruit volunteers for the aid efforts, but Giorno wouldn't let him leave without a knife. Even close to the Bright Wall, the streets are full of trash thrown out by the more well-off from the Inner City; many of the buildings are boarded up, or bear signs of recent violence. The people who live here, Monster and human alike, even those who haven't fallen sick, have a hollow and hungry look about them.

He knows it's dangerous. But he wanted to see the enemy-- the Cwyld-- for himself. And he knows that without a Bond, he's better off practicing the magic tingling underneath his fingertips. But most importantly of all, he lives for Giorno's dream. And in Aefenglom, that dream lives on by empowering those who have been left behind outside of the Bright Wall.]

[Fugo works among the medical volunteers. Although his knowledge of healing magic is limited, he has plenty of practical knowledge from tending to-- from when others looked to him for help, with their cuts and bruises. His time is split administering medicine to the sick, kitted out with a bespelled facemask and gloves just in case they turn out to be infected and need to be passed along to someone with more experience, or helping to clean and dress more mundane injuries. He's calm and patient with the people they have come to help or anyone he's been assigned to work with, but decidedly cross with anyone who comes his way with injuries from volunteer work involving combat.]

What were you thinking, putting yourself in a position like that? [Burns, cuts, minor concussions. And maybe a few more moderate injuries, given how busy their set up has been.] You won't be able to help anyone out here if you're the one getting hurt. You need to be more careful out there!

([Note:] If you are playing another character studying healing magic and want to thread out helping a hurt/sick NPC, please feel free to tag into this prompt from that angle!)

[Fugo does best when he is given a task; when he can work toward a goal, even if it's in the far-off future or one that will easily change. The task he has given himself is to master-- to the best of his ability, which is considerable indeed-- the magic that now lives inside of him, humming and tingling underneath his skin. So he signs up for classes: abjuration and alchemy, mainly. It would be nice, he thinks, to also take a class on the more task-focused universal magic, but there's a conflict between that class and his supplemental anatomy course.

He's very busy.]

[If your character happens to spend any sort of time at the Coven, they will be able to catch Fugo in any number of places. First and foremost, he never misses a single class; he's a quiet, if intense, student. He takes extensive notes during lecture, which he's quick to try and hide if he spots anyone trying to take a peek at them. He also spends a great deal of time in various alchemical gardens, helping to weed and and collect various specimens for work in class-- or just to wander, gently inspecting each plant, both to make sure that the plants are well and to practice naming the specimens and their uses in various recipes. He spends more time than he should, probably, reading while walking. Most of the time he's good at avoiding anyone else in the hallways, but he's not perfect at it. Every now and then... a collision is inevitable, hard enough that it sends him and his book tumbling down to the floor.

And of course, it wouldn't be the Coven if there wasn't some magic practice involved. Fugo can never keep entirely ahead of it, but he does his best to burn off some of his own excess magic by practicing various spells he's learned in class.]

Hey. Mind if I throw this at you? ["This" being an apple, which he tosses up in the air-- and then "catches" a few inches above his hand.] I want to test a barrier spell I've been practicing. [He pauses, briefly considering--] Don't worry. Even if that spell fails, I can heal any bruises.

[That's not. Very reassuring??]

[The wishing fish in Old Georgie's well has been the subject of much debate lately. At least between Fugo and Giorno: they've been arguing about it at least once a night. Fugo thinks the fish is bullshit and has several tedious explanations about how magic works to back this opinion up. Giorno's contrary argument boils down to "magic is bullshit," which is surprisingly difficult to argue with.

Fugo has not set out to investigate the wishing fish because he thinks he'll get a wish. He's investigating it to prove Giorno wrong, because obviously he's just being difficult for the sake of being difficult. He's got a map (hand-drawn on a piece of scratch paper, not to scale) of Old Georgie's property and directions (rambling and incoherent) and a variety of useless items from around the house. And Kaede, who is going along with this nonsense.]

I mean, this-- [Fugo gestures with a sock, sad and unmatched and destines to be thrown down a well,] --isn't even how you fish. What kind of standards does this fish have?!

[He almost wishes that the rumor mentioned actual money. Then it would obviously be a scam and he wouldn't be wandering around the countryside, looking for an abandoned well. With a magical fish in it.]

Edited 2019-11-19 02:58 (UTC)

[Yuya lowers the book he's staring at (not reading, all the letter have blurred together and his thoughts have wandered) so he can blink owlishly at Fugo.]

If it's for a barrier, wouldn't I be the one throwing it at you? [Like a defense? Or is it just. A wall.]

You're thinking of a different spell. The one I want to practice is specifically meant to be cast on someone else-- it deflects incoming missiles. The text specifically mentioned arrows, but that didn't seem like a good idea.

[In terms of potential injury and because he doesn't know how to draw a bow to begin with.]

But if you'd like to practice a similar spell on me, I guess that would be fair.

Oh. [He wasn't thinking about any spell, but he'll let Fugo believe he knows a little about abjuration instead of... nothing.]

That's fine, then! If it's meant to be cast on someone else--do I stay right here?

[As big as the house was, it would have been hard not to hear at least snatches of that argument. Kaede's sleep schedule occasionally lined up with the times Giorno (and his guest) were awake, and also when they were bickering.

At first she wasn't very invested--it was a Them Problem--until it became increasingly obvious that one of them was actually going out there. The squishier one--Fugo? Kaede was fairly sure he would have gone himself, too--and that just wouldn't do. If something happened to him, then Giorno would be upset, and then she would feel bad--that was how empathy worked, wasn't it? Either way, Kaede had taken it upon herself to scuff her foot against the floor to announce her presence before appearing at the man's elbow, declaring that she'd be going along. Venturing outside the walls wasn't very safe.

So, the (mostly) self-appointed Monster bodyguard was peering down into the same well with the same perpetual frown on her face. She had a short sword with her, plain, unadorned, and used mostly for prodding a mushroom to see if it was edible (it was not). But the Chimera had plenty of other pointy bits about her, though she was inclined to use none of them right now.

Her tail was twitching a little at the end, like a thoughtful cat. A cat with a tail that made for a very feathery, fluffy obstacle behind her.]

Maybe it likes garbage.

[Maybe the fish hated littering and would come up to yell at them. She didn't know, she wasn't a biologist.]

Yeah, that's right. You shouldn't have to do anything. Just hold still while I cast the spell-- your exact position is important.

[Fugo drops the levitation spell that's holding the apple in the air, which lands neatly in his palm. He crosses the short distance between them until he stands in front of Yuya. Using the toe of his shoe, he first draws the boundary line of the shield on the ground; then, using the pointer finger of his empty hand, Fugo sketches three symbols in the air in front of Yuya. Once the last symbol is finished, there is a pulse of magical light; the barrier, a nearly-invisible twisting shimmer of light, unfolds itself in front of Yuya.]

It's anchored to both you and this spot on the floor. As long as you stay behind the boundary, any object thrown at you should be thrown off course. [Satisfied with his work, Fugo moves away until he's at a proper throwing distance.] Ready?

[Yuya watches the symbols be drawn with curiosity.

Once it's done, he sits up straighter and offers a brief smile.] I'm ready! Go ahead.

[For a scrawny Witch-in-Training whose studies are almost exclusively focused on healing and support magic, Fugo is oddly fearless when it comes to potentially dangerous situations. He's not reckless, persay; he's just as cautious and wary as Lucy is. But he walks through through Aefenglom's rougher districts and then through the gates of the Bright Wall with the certainty of someone who expects violence, but not anyone to protect him from it.

Not that he objects to Kaede's company. As a Chimera, she is a natural problem solver-- prevention? Whatever. With her here, people are less likely to try and mug him. Which is fine by him.]

Maybe it's a catfish. [Fugo leans his weight on the edge of the well and suspiciously peers down into it. From where he's standing, he can see a bucket and a few odds and ends floating on top of the water. There are a few glimmering scales on the sides of the well walls, but no fish.] ... how is it even surviving in an environment like this? There isn't much room for it to swim.

[The Chimera's tail flicked when he said that, an unpleasant memory tugging her expression into a momentarily more severe grimace. Kaede shook her head to dismiss it, ears twitching back like they were shooing away insects that were no longer there.]

A lot of swimming in circles.

[Said flatly. Go away, intrusive thought.]

I can't see to the bottom.

[Her Monster's eyes magnified any light there was, but they couldn't make something from nothing. If there was a fish swimming around down there, wouldn't the water be rippling?]

[Fugo flashes Yuya a quick thumbs up, the lighthearted gesture somewhat at odds with his serious expression. He then winds back and, although he will quickly come to regret it, really winds up the throw before he pitches the apple at Yuya's face.]

[The thing is... Fugo is good at learning new things. And magic? Magic is a lot of memorization. Learning this gesture. Writing that symbol. Pronouncing this or that word of power. Pushing aside whatever he thinks or feels to focus his attention on a single point. Casting spells, especially simple ones such as a reflective shield, isn't the problem. Fugo's problem, as it historically has been and likely continue will be in the foreseeable future, is that he puts too much of himself into it. And without a Bond to help regulate his magic, his spells tend to be... a little strong.]

[When the apple hits the boundary of the shield, it slows, hovering briefly in midair as the spell fights against it-- and then, instead of veering off course, sharply reverses. It all happens very quickly. And somewhat comically, given that the apple makes sharp contact with Fugo's forehead. Owch. Fugo doesn't fall all the way to the ground, but it strikes him with enough force that he stumbles back, hands coming up to cover his forehead.]

Fuck! Ow!

Whoa--[Well, it works, maybe a little too well.

Yuya slides off his chair, immediately colliding into the other side of the barrier. He staggers back, then shimmies around the shield to Fugo.] Are you okay?

[Fugo doesn't quite catch the exact movement of Kaede's tail, or her twitching ears. But the flicker of movement in his peripheral vision causes him to glance over at her, so he does catch her scowling darkly into the well. He's yet to see her smile, but her expression in that moment is frigid.]

... if there really is something down there, there's nothing stopping us from transporting it to a river or lake if we can get it to appear. [If it wants to be? Who knows. He is not an expert on wish-granting fish. In fact, he came here with the position that said fish doesn't exist.] Well, let's just get it over with.

[Fugo holds the unmatched sock over the water. He briefly reconsiders throwing it in-- what if its match does turn up? Does this count as littering? Who is going to clean up this junk?-- but in the end, in the spirit of winning an argument, he drops it down into the water.]

I'm-- [Fugo gingerly touches his forehead, then winces. When he pulls his hand away, there's a bright red mark.] Ugh, I'm fine. It just stings.

I heard you run into something. [Fugo sighs and then, more than a little frazzled, runs his hands through his hair.] Sorry, it's not supposed to be that solid.

Uh, well, that just means it was really strong! [Yuya laughs.] It looks like it worked, anyway. Good thing you didn't use the arrow...

[For no small length of time, Ozymandias hasn't been in attendance for any of the classes at the Coven, opting instead to keep to himself in his mansion and focusing on studying independently. Even after the masquerade -- his first significant outing in public -- he stuck to his routine of studying at home for a little while longer. But he does gradually begin making his return to classes.]

So, you managed to find your way to this world after all.

[It had been some time since the dream where their paths crossed and while Ozymandias is historically terrible at remembering faces and/or names, it's difficult to overlook the familiar hunch in the boy's shoulders or the mildly perturbed look in his eyes as he's neatly putting away his notes at the end of class. (Ozymandias had shown enough restraint to wait until the end to come up to him, but recognized him near immediately once he took his seat.)]

You seem to have settled in well!

[He doesn't mask his surprise at that. Given how stubborn he was about a unicorn foal, one couldn't exactly anticipate the kid having enough mental flexibility to accept his current surroundings any easier. But even as he's surprised, there's nothing inherently shaming in his tone either.]

You call that "working"? As far as I'm concerned, it was a failure. [Still rubbing his forehead, Fugo walks over to the barrier. He tries to to carefully tap the shield with his knuckles; even that light motion wrenches his arm back.] Control is everything. Witches have no business casting spells whose outcome they can't control.

[Which is why... he's practicing. But he's nonetheless annoyed; dissatisfied with the results of his own practice, which went fine when it came to inanimate objects and plants.]

[Half to himself--] It can't be a difference in incantation, the instructor would have mentioned it...

[So what went wrong? Is it just bad luck? Almost absentmindedly, he draws another rune in the air; this one to dispel the barrier.]

[Fugo doesn't remember the dream. Or at least, he doesn't remember it very well. What he has are pieces: a forest path under his feet, a mirror heavy in his arms, a promise. He knows that there must have been other people there, but he can't remember them. Their faces have slipped through the cracks between his fragments. The memory, try as he might to recall it, just doesn't exist. So there's no recognition on Fugo's face when Ozymandias approaches him; just a resigned sort of suspicion.]

I don't know you. If you want to copy my notes, the answer is no.

[The answer is always no to people who try approaching him immediately after class. At lest ask him in the halls, so he can name a price not in front of the teacher.]

... If someone was actually shooting at me, the only thing I'd be worried about is that I didn't get hit. [It doesn't have to be perfect!!

Yuya steps back and sits in his chair once more.] Maybe a rune was too big or something? That matters, doesn't it?

[Just kidnap the fish, it's fine.]

[Kaede's head didn't move, but her eyes followed the sad crumpled sock as it tumbled down the well. It landed with a tiny, insignificant splash, floating on the water's surface for some time yet. It was the only thing doing so--

Until something else, something much bigger churned the water's surface. The Something sucked the sock down below the surface, and--then a fish's head splashed up through the water. It spat a stream of water--and the sock--right back out of the well, and once its rounded koi-like mouth was clear:]

Hey! What gives? This isn't food!

[The Chimera's ears flicked back.

What the fuck.]

Edited (that was sure a typo) 2019-12-03 04:28 (UTC)

[If Ozymandias' immediate expression is anything to go by, that was not the response he was expecting. It's simply not his usual experience for someone to forget him of all people when he so often leaves such a strong impression. Not even with the dreams being sometimes a little difficult to remember clearly. There's a moment where he seems genuinely puzzled, which could easily be misconstrued as confusion over the denial of notes. At least until he's able to formulate a response and seems to ignore the matter of notes altogether.]

You know me, you've merely forgotten me, [he clarifies with a frown.] You continually refused to engage with the unicorn foal because you were so suspicious of your environment. Surely you must remember at least that from the dream.

[He doesn't even give Fugo an opportunity to confirm or deny before he continues.]

No matter. I remember you. [He doesn't say that Fugo's unforgettable, but his tone certainly implies there's very little mistaking that prickly demeanor for anyone else.] But we did not have the opportunity to exchange names before the dream's end, so I suppose that may be why I do not stand out in your memory.

[Maybe not the totality, but definitely a factor. At least, that's what Ozymandias is willing to assume.]

It's not that simple. You can't just think about yourself in a fight, especially one with projectiles. What's the trajectory? After it misses you, where is it going to end up? What would you do if it hit--

[Fugo cuts himself off by biting the inside of his cheek. He shouldn't be taking his frustration out on a stranger, especially someone who he strongarmed into helping him practice to begin with.]

... yes, how the rune is drawn does matter. I thought I had a handle on it, but obviously I need more practice. [He pauses, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the next.] Thanks for the help.

[Oh. ... terrific. Fugo looks less than thrilled about Ozymandias' assertion that yes, he does know him. He genuinely doesn't remember, but finds he has little room to speak-- much less argue with him.]

Good for you. But in case it's not obvious, I don't remember that dream very well. It's all in pieces. [He just... decides not to reply to whatever nonsense that is about a unicorn foal. It's not surprising, but he also doesn't really want to get into his inherent mistrust of overly-realistic dreams with someone who is effectively a stranger. It's-- complicated.] I'm Fugo.

[A lot happens. The sock descends. It then reascends, forcefully, accompanied with a stream of water from the mouth of what appears to be an over-large talking fish.]

What the fuck.

[There's actually a fish in there. On top of that, it actually talks?? Oh, this is terrible. This isn't the worst possible outcome for this outing, but give Giorno an inch (of talking fish) and he'll take a mile (claiming that he was right).]

No one at any point mentioned food. What the hell are you doing at the bottom of a well?!

[Right, trajectory... a thing Yuya tends to fudge with what feels right instead of calculating because he's barely scraping by in math.]

No problem. [He waves his hand.] You're mostly learning how to work with runes?

[While the explanation would manage to fill in some gaps around Fugo's very guarded behavior during the dream, it isn't particularly necessary. (Hence why Ozymandias doesn't even begin to pry into it just as he really hadn't all that much in the dream.) He's genuinely willing to ascribe it to either mood or temperament before anything else. Thus, he's far more invested in the exchanging of names, and his expression brightens somewhat when Fugo doesn't give him the complete brush-off and bothers with sharing his name.]

[Of course, that's less that he'd be heartbroken about not getting a name -- the man went several months before he realized he was talking to one of Chariot's Bonded because he never bothered to ask for a name then -- and more he's just pleased to be getting his way. Even without inherent authority given to him by his titles, he's still delighted to be obeyed in some capacity.]

I am the third king of the Nineteenth Dynasty of Egypt, the King of Kings, and God-King of the Sun, Ramesses the Great. You may call me Ozymandias.

[As he always does, Ozymandias says this approaching-paragraph-length of an introduction with all earnestness, sincerity, and of course, pride. Regardless of how many people struggle to believe what he says to be true or think he's cracked, nothing will shake any of that in the flourish with which he introduces himself. Because what is stronger or more certain the truth? Nothing he said is less than fact to Ozymandias.]

Abjuration. For the past few weeks, we've been studying different types of shields-- this particular spell uses runes, but not all of them do.

[Strangely, as Ozymandias takes the time to introduce himself, Fugo becomes harder to read. His furrowed brow loosens and his sharp frown smooths, until his expression is carefully neutral. There's still tightness and tension in his shoulders but if he hadn't been so annoyed and snappish before, it would be difficult to tell what he's thinking.

Because he recognizes the name. Not just from the poem-- look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!-- or the biblical record. He knows Ozymandias because Giorno spoke about him-- at length. And not just because of all of his titles associated with his name. Somehow, this loud and ostentatious man has managed to impress Giorno. And because Giorno considers Ozymandias an ally-- ... well, he'll behave. Or at least do his best to watch his mouth.]

I see. I suppose it was inevitable that we would run into each other. Giorno spoke highly of you.

How are the other ones going? [Or is this the first shield he tried?]

[Fugo makes a sour expression. He's... not bad at shields. At least he doesn't think he is. Or any reason why he wouldn't be. Nonetheless: his success rate is just barely 70%.]

Not... terribly. They work more often than they don't. ... I'm better at other forms of abjuration.

[It's difficult not to notice the shift in Fugo's expression, and for a brief moment, Ozymandias thinks it might be a degree of willingness to show some deference stemming from the belief that Ozymandias is telling the truth. But that thought doesn't linger long -- it barely even has time to form -- before Fugo clarifies. It's deference that he shows Giorno that's tempered his pervasively sour mood.]

[...Interesting.]

Why am I not surprised? [he says with a chuckle. Ozymandias hasn't suddenly found the ability to be humble though. The question is more light amusement at the degree to which that boy attached himself to Ozymandias given where they started. Giorno hadn't exactly displayed animosity towards Ozymandias, but he made it readily apparent he wanted to be left alone. Fortunately for him, Ozymandias (and others) saw greater potential in him than that and didn't allow for that.] I am also quite fond of the boy and have watched over him to the degree that he would allow these past several months. While unfortunate that you also find yourself trapped in this world, it is wonderful that he finally has an ally that he is more familiar with.

[He huffs another laugh.]

I suppose this means I ought to leave such responsibilities over Giorno in your hands then, hm?

[Ought to. Not will.]

[It's not a matter of doubting Fugo -- though he has not fully proven himself to Ozymandias just yet given his limited observations of Fugo -- so much as Ozymandias has deemed Giorno worthy of both his affection and his guidance. These are not things he will take away simply because someone Giorno trusts with fewer difficulties than the strangers among the mirrorbound has appeared.]

[Back home, no one would have posed that question to him. He could devote the rest of his life to Giorno, however short or long that might be, and it wouldn't be enough. In Giorno's story, Pannacotta Fugo will always be remembered as the one who stayed behind. He is the traitor who was forgiven. At best, people will second guess his loyalty. At worst, people will always look at him with suspicion.

It's fine. It's whatever. That is Napoli, this is here. No one in Aefenglom needs to know the risk Giorno took in bringing him back to his side. As far as anyone here is concerned, Fugo is-- Giorno's friend. That's what they're going with.]

[Meanwhile, he's already exhausted by the question. By Ozymandias' tone, the question is clearly moot. He has made the Decision(tm) to be a part of Giorno's life. Even if Fugo went out of his way to offend him, that wouldn't change.]

It's not as if there's an upper limit to how many people who want to support him. Do whatever you want. My presence has no bearing on any of his other friendships.

[With a shake of his head, Ozymandias replies,]

I very much doubt that. Perhaps it does not have a negative one, but I cannot imagine it holds no bearing on his relationships with others.

[With how guarded Giorno was when they first met, Ozymandias finds it difficult to believe that having someone from his world wouldn't impact Giorno. To one extent or another, having someone he more readily trusts must have some meaning and change the way he relates to others. But how interesting that Fugo would discount himself as having any importance like that.]

Have the two of you known one another long?

[Where Ozymandias has often chosen not to pry when it comes to Fugo, on the matter of Giorno, he does.]

[If Ozymandias is watching carefully, he’ll notice one of Fugo’s eyebrows twitch and, though he’s quick to mask it by ducking his head down to focus on finishing his task of packing up his things. He’s annoyed. It’s so-- aggravating, saying something only to be breezily dismissed. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.]

Giorno and I met through a mutual acquaintance. We’ve been working together for some time now.

[It's a pointedly vague statement. As tight as his chest feels brushing over their mutual connection with Buccellati, it's easier to talk around Passione than it would be to cover it up.]

[Ozymandias notices the vagueness of his answer far more than he does the twitch of Fugo's eyebrow. He takes a bit of a step back to give Fugo a little more breathing room and room to eventually get up and start leaving the classroom.]

Well, if there was any question in my mind that you and Giorno really know one another, that certainly proves it, [he says with a laugh.] Neither of you is very good at answering directly, are you?

[With his notes and book successfully stowed away, Fugo shoulders his bag and sidles out of his place so he can leave the classroom. He doesn't join in with Ozymandias' laughter.]

I prefer to think of it as we're both careful with personal information. Giorno and I are friends. We've known each other for a while. That's all you need to know, so that's all I'm going to tell you.

[Perhaps he ought to have anticipated that sort of response -- Fugo has yet to actually demonstrate any other mood or response beyond prickly -- but Ozymandias is very plainly taken aback by the terse response this time. Ozymandias doesn't bristle in offense, but the humor in his expression fades with the warmth in his eyes being replaced by a slightly colder, muted gaze in the wake of Fugo's presumption of what he "needs to know."]

I can appreciate loyalty towards a friend and safeguarding their...secrets. I imagine Giorno is quite grateful for it.

[If the shift in his expression was enough to indicate that Fugo has begun to cross a line, the lack of enthusiasm in his words is certainly evidence enough. He speaks minimally and returns the terseness. His words are less praise as they might otherwise seem on the surface, and more thin benefit of the doubt being offered. It seems Fugo is not the only one willing to demonstrate restraint for Giorno's sake.]

[Ozymandias turns from Fugo, heading towards the classroom door. It seems that as he turns, whatever just happened there also manages to smooth itself out.]

I imagine we shall be seeing more of one another between Giorno and class. Don't hesitate to ask for assistance if you require it. [He smiles mildly over his shoulder at Fugo.] Though I imagine you'll be more advanced than I am in no time if your notes are any indication.

[Rarely he means a compliment like that given his ego, but he must acknowledge talent when he sees it.]

[Fugo isn't particularly surprised by the way Ozymandias' expression and voice go cold. Not by much; he's surprisingly careful with his tone. But Fugo has spent his whole life reading people, trying to manuever around their moods and stay in their good graces for as long as possible. It's only recently that he's stopped trying to please most of them. The distance and lack of warmth doesn't bother him. In fact, that's what he was aiming for: in his mind, it's better and easier for everyone involved to lay it out sooner rather than later.

When Ozymandias looks over his shoulder, he will find that Fugo was watching him leave. His expression is not cold so much as it is simply flat. There is no pleasure from the compliment, or even relief at the end of a conversation he wanted out of. Not even frustration or anxiety at the uncomfortable end. Nothing reflects back.]

Of course. [He smooths down the front of his shirt, absently picking at a stray thread near the hem.] Good luck with your own studies.

OPEN

I. PART-TIMERS WANTED: BRAYER'S BASKETS (Quest)

II. OUT OF THE CITY - MEDICAL AID (Quest)

III. HITTING THE BOOKS

IV. FISH WITH A WISH (QUEST) (closed to Kaede)

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