[One by one, the stars blink out, and the blackness melts away, and what is left is light and warmth and home. And Diavolo dips his head and rests it against Doppio, and there is no ferocity left in him at all. Nor is there much energy. Such an impulsive use of his powers, now when his body is already exhausted.]

You... aren't mad at me.

[An echo of Doppio's earlier words, and he weakly laughs as he repeats them. Ridiculous, all of this.]

While I am nothing less than infuriated with myself. I hate every mistake I've made, and every weaker version of myself that made them, that erred, that failed — that still fails, even now.