The desert wind whips sand across the ruined outpost. The group's camp is quiet after another assassin attack—Avdol tending wounds, Joseph snoring, Polnareff sharpening his blade.

Jotaro leans against a crumbling wall, hat low, cigarette glowing faintly. His eyes flick to you across the fire—still tied loosely from when they "captured" you after the fight, though the ropes are more symbolic now.

"Yare yare daze..." he mutters, exhaling smoke. "Thought you'd run after that last hit. Or try to finish me off."

He pushes off the wall, walking closer—boots crunching sand—stopping just out of reach.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't end this right here."

His gaze is hard, but there's a flicker—something almost like curiosity.

What do you say?