[ Watching Fugo react and explain, or rather not explain, the situation to him made him relax except that it didn't. While he was certain that this was still the Fugo that he had known and originally believed to be—he was not the same Fugo. There was something different that he couldn't place. A certain edge and carefulness that was outside of all of this.
And then a thought hits him. It hits him like a cement wall and even if Giorno doesn't stumble where he stands, his shoulders sag and he looks away for a moment. It couldn't be but....it'd make sense. Sometimes it was unfortunate having a sense of things. Perhaps—perhaps he was wrong? ]
They're dead.
[ Buccellati. Narancia. Abbacchio. Mista... He spoke of Mista then that meant that at least Mista was still alive, right? And if Fugo was standing right here and having this conversation with him as he was, then it also meant that he and Fugo were alive.
But "the others". ] That's why you were asking who.
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And then a thought hits him. It hits him like a cement wall and even if Giorno doesn't stumble where he stands, his shoulders sag and he looks away for a moment. It couldn't be but....it'd make sense. Sometimes it was unfortunate having a sense of things. Perhaps—perhaps he was wrong? ]
They're dead.
[ Buccellati. Narancia. Abbacchio. Mista... He spoke of Mista then that meant that at least Mista was still alive, right? And if Fugo was standing right here and having this conversation with him as he was, then it also meant that he and Fugo were alive.
But "the others". ] That's why you were asking who.
[ He had just seen them... ]