Gokudera knows very well of that persistence. The Yamamoto on Amoi was persistent, too. Always putting an arm on or around him, getting the bomber in trouble... but doing his best to help him out, too. Obviously, the swordsman has never meant to hurt his friends. It would be too unlike him. Laws had changed in that world, but only in certain places. Still, Gokudera is cautious, and he's never been too fond of being touched.
If he really were to get drunk, with the use of some internalized Sun flames, the bomber could likely sober up quickly. The alcohol would hit hard and fast in his system enough to make him sick, but he'd be back to normal quickly. He has no mind to his flames at the moment, however. Gone is the despondent attitude that clung to him on Amoi. He'd made friends, had fallen in love, had fought to help and ultimately... people left him. Whether they simply were teleported off Amoi, or they legitimately turned their backs to him made a huge impact on his willingness to open up.
So... Yamamoto is helping him more than he likely realizes in just being around him. Listening or talking, or walking with him to get food. As mundane as it may seem, there's a great deal of comfort the bomber's feeling. He could fear the future... that this friend of his could leave, but he's not going to let that go. Gokudera is going to anchor his purpose on his family, and the potential for his own improvement here to help them. He'll be fiercely loyal, and that will never change. No matter what world he finds himself on.
"It'll be good to eat food for once." Gokudera says, feeling as though he could drool. "Real food." He corrects. "Everything on that last place was..." He rubs his fingers together, trying to find the right word, right language to describe it. "Not printed... but... digital? It was like, you got full from it and could be satisfied... But nothing was real." No real food, no real plants. Nothing felt alive on Amoi. He even had a theory that everyone there was somehow digital or maybe downloaded into the world, and that is how they could interact with it so well.
No one outright called him crazy, but he definitely unsettled a lot of his friends with talk like that. "I don't even know what I want.."
There had been a man named Sanji that had made him a lasagna once. He doesn't remember it. Maybe that's what he wants. Or... some kind of pasta.
awww shucks
If he really were to get drunk, with the use of some internalized Sun flames, the bomber could likely sober up quickly. The alcohol would hit hard and fast in his system enough to make him sick, but he'd be back to normal quickly. He has no mind to his flames at the moment, however. Gone is the despondent attitude that clung to him on Amoi. He'd made friends, had fallen in love, had fought to help and ultimately... people left him. Whether they simply were teleported off Amoi, or they legitimately turned their backs to him made a huge impact on his willingness to open up.
So... Yamamoto is helping him more than he likely realizes in just being around him. Listening or talking, or walking with him to get food. As mundane as it may seem, there's a great deal of comfort the bomber's feeling. He could fear the future... that this friend of his could leave, but he's not going to let that go. Gokudera is going to anchor his purpose on his family, and the potential for his own improvement here to help them. He'll be fiercely loyal, and that will never change. No matter what world he finds himself on.
"It'll be good to eat food for once." Gokudera says, feeling as though he could drool. "Real food." He corrects. "Everything on that last place was..." He rubs his fingers together, trying to find the right word, right language to describe it. "Not printed... but... digital? It was like, you got full from it and could be satisfied... But nothing was real." No real food, no real plants. Nothing felt alive on Amoi. He even had a theory that everyone there was somehow digital or maybe downloaded into the world, and that is how they could interact with it so well.
No one outright called him crazy, but he definitely unsettled a lot of his friends with talk like that. "I don't even know what I want.."
There had been a man named Sanji that had made him a lasagna once. He doesn't remember it. Maybe that's what he wants. Or... some kind of pasta.