[Atem's been told some horrible things. His own father, as Atem understands it, gave an order for mass human sacrifice. 99 people. He's a little bit used to large numbers of the dead, by now.
If he told someone about what his family had done, he wouldn't want them to recoil from him, or to hear sorry. He'd want the difficulty of the situation recognized, but not pity, or anything else that wouldn't change matters. He'd want to be understood...but not in a way where someone else told their comparable story, pulling the focus onto them instead of him. So he gives Giorno that same understanding, and respect.
....at least until Giorno cracks the joke -- it has to be? Put like that? At least, it makes the tension crack for Atem, whose mouth pulls up in a grin, and whose spike-lined shoulders twitch in a light laugh.]
Heh! All right, then...I'm in your hands!
[He kids back as he lays the hollow needle and its tube out on a tray-table and settles into a low, comfortable chair beside it. Leaving the needle and its attached tube to Giorno, Atem rolls up his sweater-sleeve, takes a strip of elastic, and, using his prehensile tail-tip to hold it in place like a second hand, ties it tight above his elbow. He rests his hand wrist-up on the arm of the chair, clenching and flexing his fingers, making the veins easier to spot. Giorno may or may not need the guidance, with a vampire's sense for blood...but it's a very normal bit of phlebotomy preparation, and not very vampire-y at all.
If Giorno starts to seem less controlled about the blood-draw, though, Atem hasn't forgotten his promise. He's got no intention of giving up a life, or even getting seriously injured, today...he'll keep an eye out for cracks in that composure, for anything that seems off. He's relaxed, but watchful.]
no subject
If he told someone about what his family had done, he wouldn't want them to recoil from him, or to hear sorry. He'd want the difficulty of the situation recognized, but not pity, or anything else that wouldn't change matters. He'd want to be understood...but not in a way where someone else told their comparable story, pulling the focus onto them instead of him. So he gives Giorno that same understanding, and respect.
....at least until Giorno cracks the joke -- it has to be? Put like that? At least, it makes the tension crack for Atem, whose mouth pulls up in a grin, and whose spike-lined shoulders twitch in a light laugh.]
Heh! All right, then...I'm in your hands!
[He kids back as he lays the hollow needle and its tube out on a tray-table and settles into a low, comfortable chair beside it. Leaving the needle and its attached tube to Giorno, Atem rolls up his sweater-sleeve, takes a strip of elastic, and, using his prehensile tail-tip to hold it in place like a second hand, ties it tight above his elbow. He rests his hand wrist-up on the arm of the chair, clenching and flexing his fingers, making the veins easier to spot. Giorno may or may not need the guidance, with a vampire's sense for blood...but it's a very normal bit of phlebotomy preparation, and not very vampire-y at all.
If Giorno starts to seem less controlled about the blood-draw, though, Atem hasn't forgotten his promise. He's got no intention of giving up a life, or even getting seriously injured, today...he'll keep an eye out for cracks in that composure, for anything that seems off. He's relaxed, but watchful.]