[Jotaro, lying in the street, blood pooling on the concrete beneath him. Body too still, face pale and ashen, and he'd known, he's known he was dead. Known they'd failed, that Dio had picked them off one by one-- not easily, maybe, but he'd done it, and now Polnareff was the only one left.

Yes, in short, he remembers that moment. He remembers it so clearly, and despite himself, he feels a shiver working down his spine. He has to glance at Jotaro, watch his chest rise and fall steadily, remind himself that it all ended well.]

I forget you're eighteen sometimes.

[He passes the cigarette back. They used to do this in the desert, back when cigarettes were starting to go scarce. He can't remember who suggested it first, but now it's habit-- you save on cigarette if you both just smoke half of one, right? And half of one is better than none, and so they'd pooled their resources, ignoring the clucks of disapproval from Kakyoin and Avdol.]

I had a pretty great childhood, you know? Me an' Sherry, we did all the shit you're supposed to when you're a kid, catching fireflies and fish and running around, junk like that. And being a teenager, that was pretty great. Pretty normal, I went to dances and did stupid shit and had friends.

[This has a point.]

But you . . . you and Kakyoin both. You both got robbed of some of that. Too much of it. And you're still getting shortchanged, even here.

[He presses against him.]

Tell me, next time you feel like that, like you're stretched too thin, like people are relying on you too much. Anytime, just-- talk to me. You're not the only one who can listen.