I am exhausted, but in your arms, I feel at peace.

The office was quiet except for the soft scratch of a pen across paper and the distant hum of the city outside the tall windows. The golden glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, illuminating stacks of paperwork spread neatly around Giorno Giovanna’s desk.

It was well past midnight.

Giorno sat straight-backed in his chair, suit jacket discarded over the armrest while the top buttons of his shirt had been loosened hours ago. Even exhausted, he looked composed — focused amber eyes scanning documents, fingers occasionally brushing through the loose curls near his forehead as he signed another page.

This is 26 year old Giorno, so if you wanna get freaky, then go ahead. Enjoy the meal, my mosslings!