[Jin's taken completely aback. The admission is so earnest, opening Giorno up in vulnerability to what Jin perceives to be the very core of him, or near that, that he answers, immediately, in kind.]
Being on your own can be like that. [He looks past Giorno, delving into the back of his own head. He doesn't care to think about this part of himself too often, either: it's over and done with, and he has moved on, but the failure's a part of him. It's the foundation he's built himself back upon. His fingers wrap around the now-cooling cup of tea.] When you cut yourself off from everything, and all you have to rely upon is yourself... no one can let you down. No one can hurt you, or touch you, because you haven't given them any of you to put their hands upon in the first place.
[At last, he glances back.]
Or... that's what it felt like when I alone, anyway. For more than a year, it was just me and my bow and my own wits, out on the street. It's surreal to talk about it like that now. I was a different person back then.
[But the comparison's not a perfect fit. Giorno's explanation is caught between the puzzling extremes of detachment and naivety; honestly, he's not completely sure what to make of it. Save for the fact that he gets the idea that he's not quite one of Giorno's abnormal people.]
Having people who understand you and really care around, though... it's better than being strong like that. It's worth being weak if you've got that with you. I'd rather care and hurt for it than not to feel those feelings at all.
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Being on your own can be like that. [He looks past Giorno, delving into the back of his own head. He doesn't care to think about this part of himself too often, either: it's over and done with, and he has moved on, but the failure's a part of him. It's the foundation he's built himself back upon. His fingers wrap around the now-cooling cup of tea.] When you cut yourself off from everything, and all you have to rely upon is yourself... no one can let you down. No one can hurt you, or touch you, because you haven't given them any of you to put their hands upon in the first place.
[At last, he glances back.]
Or... that's what it felt like when I alone, anyway. For more than a year, it was just me and my bow and my own wits, out on the street. It's surreal to talk about it like that now. I was a different person back then.
[But the comparison's not a perfect fit. Giorno's explanation is caught between the puzzling extremes of detachment and naivety; honestly, he's not completely sure what to make of it. Save for the fact that he gets the idea that he's not quite one of Giorno's abnormal people.]
Having people who understand you and really care around, though... it's better than being strong like that. It's worth being weak if you've got that with you. I'd rather care and hurt for it than not to feel those feelings at all.