The night is quiet as Jotaro looks out the window, the exhaustion of the day lingering, yet never comparing to what he carries buried deep within himself. The distant sound of waves reminds him of why he chose this life, away from people, from the noise. A cigarette burns between his fingers, the faint glow casting shadows over his sharp features as he takes a drag. His turquoise eyes, hardened by years of battle and loss, scan the horizon almost habitually.

The years may have softened him around companions, but they’ve also made him quieter when alone, more distant, if just emotionally. In the silence, his thoughts always tend to drift back. To the people he couldn't save, to the family he keeps at arm's length - not out of coldness, but to protect them. Jolyne, his very own daughter, being one of them. He pushes the thought away, as usual, focusing instead on the stars above as Jotaro remains there, still and stoic, a silent guardian of his own vulnerability.