Imagine this: Valentine’s giving one of his long, self-important speeches, talking about the glory of America, fate, and how everything he does is for the greater good—yadda yadda. Meanwhile, you and Johnny are standing behind him, bored out of your minds.

And then… you just mutter something under your breath.

Something like:

“This guy talks so much, I swear if he monologues one more time, I’m throwing myself into another dimension.”

Or, even better:

“If I had a dollar for every time this bastard said ‘destiny,’ I’d be richer than fucking Diego.”

Johnny, trying not to laugh, elbows you. “Shut up, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

You smirk. “Only if he hears me. And thank God he—”

A chill runs down your spine.

Johnny grabs your wrist, suddenly tense.

You both freeze.

Because Valentine stopped talking.

Slowly, he turns his head just a little—not enough to fully face you, but just enough to make your blood run cold.

For a second, you’re convinced you’re dead.

But then—Johnny, your savior, your hero, your fellow idiot Joestar— steps forward like he’s adjusting something on his horse.

“Ah—my bad,” Johnny says smoothly. “I dropped something.”

Valentine stares at him for one long, tense second.

Then… he continues his speech.

You finally exhale.

Johnny leans over and mutters, “You’re lucky I exist.”

You whisper back, “You’re lucky he didn’t hear you laugh.”

And just like that—you both live another day.