Arrivederci.

I owe you a debt I can never repay. But what do I do with this second chance? And now that you've left...how will I know I'm doing the right thing? I'll after them for you though. It's the very least I can do.

Never have I met someone more ridiculous. Tell me, do you give yourself a headache? If we really are alike, I suppose I know the answer. (It's yes.) Indeed, you're a very strange person. I've wrestled for a long time on what it is I want from you, driven you mad with it, driven myself mad with my own assumptions. But we finally, really talked, and it felt wrong in all the ways I felt exposed to the world like an open wound, but it felt right, too. We're sore after all that, but I'd like to think...we're doing better. I'll keep trying, for your sake.

Oh, you're fun. The fact you'd take offense to this thought only makes it more fun. I do wonder what you look like when you smile, though. Or maybe...I really don't have to wonder anymore. It's been a slow change, but you know how stubborn I am. My first instinct is to be impatient and get inevitable disappointment over with, but seeing you come out of your shell more and more is rewarding in ways I can't describe. Let's keep getting to know each other, hm? But not too well. I can't let you become privy to all my games.

If only everyone were as genuine as you. I can't think of anyone as kind or as clever. One day, I think I'd like to visit Egypt and see that western horizon myself. But I've found out in the interim you've been hurt, just like anyone else. I've been thinking hard about what it means to be safe, to protect what's important. I wanted to be believe in invincible people, and I believed you might have been one of those very people. That was unfair. Maybe I'm making excuses, but if there's no chance of coming back from what we've become here, why try at all, right?

You're a nice boy, O Modern Helen of Troy, but you like to play games. And I play to win. And yet, somehow, you still talk me. I appreciate it. You're a brighter presence than you know. Well, maybe you do know. But I'm not about to let it go to your head by saying it out loud, now will I?

There's a lot I don't know about you, but you reached out to me when I needed it. I think that's the mark of a good person. What you said, then...I thought maybe that changed how I felt. It muddled it, and I'm still grappling with your words, but you told me a little about yourself before it happened. There has to be more to it.

Every time I think you make sense, you buck off all expectation. But we had a nice talk when we met. I'm holding on to that. You've been hurt, I've found. You lose yourself in it. But at the end of the day, you recognize that it's not a place you want to be. I'll offer you a hand, anytime you stumble. We can only do so much alone.

You're a coward and a liar, but not beyond a second chance. I would be a hypocrite not to give you that much. And now there's another side of you that's shown itself. Someone somehow simpler than you are, and possibly more dangerous for it. Just who are you...?

My one solace is that she died before word reached you. Now she won't know the young man she fell in love with was a monster all along. I spoke to the monster face-to-face recently. I had no doubts about his intentions and how he felt about me, but hearing it...well, I'll keep my distance, and you keep yours. I've got no interest in pointless fights, or giving any thought to someone who no longer exists.

There's something...very soothing about your presence. Serene. If you've got anything below the surface, it's an undertow, but it doesn't muddle your strength of character. Whatever you think, whatever you feel, you make it plain, uncomplicated. You prefer it that way, don't you?

You've got to be the strangest boy I've ever met. A jack of all trades, and a personality drier than my sense of humor. Is there some irony behind the sort of monster you became? That being said...it's actually encouraging how benign you try to be. Not many people are aware of themselves. You just might be too aware for your own good.

What fascinates me with you is how little I know about you. But you respect me, in a way I didn't anticipate, and in a way you made clear early on. I don't know how you really feel about me, and I won't presume you started at the same place as Giorno or Bruno. Rather...you're in a spot between them and Fugo from the start, before we got to know one another. In that case, I think it's inevitable that we'll be friends. You have no choice in the matter.