[What a strange thing to assume. He's quiet for a moment, pondering, before he decides to err on the side of honesty.]
I won't stop worrying about them until I'm permanently dead, or they are.
[They don't . . . talk about it, the lot of them. How some of those who walk among them are dead, and were murdered by Diavolo with Doppio's support. None of them discuss it, with very rare exceptions. He and Fugo have, a little bit. They've had to, as a consequence of making sure they're on the same page. But the rest of them?]
[No. No, they don't talk about the most personal crimes those men committed. So it's fair that she might not realize. But the second he stops worrying is the second he forgets the value of the people who died for his dream, and he can't do that. He just can't.]
no subject
I won't stop worrying about them until I'm permanently dead, or they are.
[They don't . . . talk about it, the lot of them. How some of those who walk among them are dead, and were murdered by Diavolo with Doppio's support. None of them discuss it, with very rare exceptions. He and Fugo have, a little bit. They've had to, as a consequence of making sure they're on the same page. But the rest of them?]
[No. No, they don't talk about the most personal crimes those men committed. So it's fair that she might not realize. But the second he stops worrying is the second he forgets the value of the people who died for his dream, and he can't do that. He just can't.]
Should I assume you're not? Worried, I mean.