Oh, a map. He takes it like it's a holy thing, unfolds it carefully so as not to bend it in any strange sort of way; he will want to keep it, he knows, to remember this day, because time with friends is important. He tries to remember that these days. Every day. Most days. Some days. At least once a week.

It's a little awe-inspiring how thorough Clark's been through all of this, though. It's sweet and unexpected and strange, but Giorno is happy about it all the same, in a giddy way. There's something about kindness for nothing that's still novel to him. It takes a great deal of getting used to.

"You've really thought this through, haven't you," he murmurs, running his fingers over the map Clark's holding, the path that's been drawn for them. "I'm glad you're showing me around and not someone else. You're the most thoughtful person I've met here by far."