Rosinante's expression shifts subtly, from neutral to - well, pensive, really. These memories have been a mixed bag. Less so their actual content and more that he doesn't enjoy people finding them. After a lifetime spent keeping his history, his personal details, all under a metaphorical lock and key, it's extremely uncomfortable to have them forced out into the open like this. It hardly matters if what Gregor found is inconsequential or if he just has a very good poker face, Rosinante doesn't like that he's found anything at all.

He takes the opal and closes his eyes for a moment, letting the memory sink in. Law, again. It's probably a good sign that so many of the memories scattered around this place are thoughts of the boy, and not because they're the easiest to relive - they aren't, actually. Every time, it leaves him feeling a little hollow, and he slumps forward over his knees where he sits on the pebble-covered beach. He has felt Law's absence every day he's been here. Either the opals' abundance is a reflection of that fact, or - or it's just coincidence, but one he finds gratifying. In some stupid, nonsensical way he imagines it might be a reflection of the kid remembering him too. Maybe.

Ah, and damnit every time he comes out of this he becomes acutely aware of the tears welling up in his eyes. He tries to blink them away but that just makes a few streak down his face instead. Sengoku did always worry he was too sensitive to keep his emotions perfectly in check. Turns out the old man was right, wasn't he?

"Thanks," he eventually manages. "Yeah. I, uh. I have one of yours, too."

Sorting through his box of opals so he can hand it over is a good way to distract himself for a few minutes. Maybe that'll work. Maybe, as he hands the opal toward Gregor, the others' own memory will keep him occupied. At least they have something in common.