Who is ever sure about wanting to visit him? Why, the only time anyone was ever sure about visiting him, it was Chrollo, and where is he now? Hisoka was beginning to think he'd go this entire month without a visitor with how it was going, and since more of his visits last month were near the beginning and mid- it makes the time between even more difficult to handle. He;s so lost in the idea that he completely doesn't expect the words that follow, nor the sound of footsteps from Giorno's arrival.
Who did he have that would visit him?
Perhaps- Shade, but he doesn't blame the man for not wanting to come back here, even to visit someone. Killua- ah- but what use does he have to visit him when his voicemail is active? Gon? Where IS Gon? Chrollo- ah, maybe there is a slim hope it's him when the voice first hits his ears, but then it's too different from the voice he expects.
"Hm?" Lifting his head over a card wall of his creation, sitting behind it and thus a little shrouded from the cell wall. Looking over the wall and moving so softly and precisely that nothing wavers or flutters down to the ground. For a month he worked on this, moved around it, lived among it, and yet never did any cards fall. That says something about his grace and patient, even more so since this is physical ability alone, with how this confinement disables his abilities entirely.
Hisoka stands among his now stagnant card city, awaiting more to be added to it at another time, setting a hand on his hip and staring over at the other man. There's something behind the look he gives Giorno despite never meeting him. Hisoka's skin is pale, eyes sunken, dyed hair fading in colour as it falls around his face, unstyled. He looks tired, drained, and yet something is starving behind his gaze.
1/2
Who did he have that would visit him?
Perhaps- Shade, but he doesn't blame the man for not wanting to come back here, even to visit someone. Killua- ah- but what use does he have to visit him when his voicemail is active? Gon? Where IS Gon? Chrollo- ah, maybe there is a slim hope it's him when the voice first hits his ears, but then it's too different from the voice he expects.
"Hm?" Lifting his head over a card wall of his creation, sitting behind it and thus a little shrouded from the cell wall. Looking over the wall and moving so softly and precisely that nothing wavers or flutters down to the ground. For a month he worked on this, moved around it, lived among it, and yet never did any cards fall. That says something about his grace and patient, even more so since this is physical ability alone, with how this confinement disables his abilities entirely.
Hisoka stands among his now stagnant card city, awaiting more to be added to it at another time, setting a hand on his hip and staring over at the other man. There's something behind the look he gives Giorno despite never meeting him. Hisoka's skin is pale, eyes sunken, dyed hair fading in colour as it falls around his face, unstyled. He looks tired, drained, and yet something is starving behind his gaze.