[There are a lot of anime with scenes where something passes really fast in front of someone, with the waist-up frame focused on the back of their head, and their hair rustles from the force of the motion. Maybe this is what happens to Mitarai. But Yoosung cannot be sure, since his field of view contains the front of Mitarai's head. Lower than that line of sight, over the course of Yoosung's chattering, Mitarai starts to clench his fists, and finally a bitter muttering slips out.]

...don't... alone...?

[Ever since he woke up in the university - no, ever since he crawled out of that river - Mitarai has been fundamentally alone. Yoosung looking so closely at his welfare doesn't change his loneliness; for Mitarai it's just one more of the simple human connections that have always, always gone so poorly. He glares into Yoosung's eyes and shouts, a natural reaction to a violation of privacy even if his stress manifests itself in a petty choice of words.]

Someone like me could never work over his watercolors in time!

[All that Mitarai can do "in time" is lean down, still facing Yoosung, to gather all these supplies that he can take out of here.]

It takes real talent to make anime... To do anything that gives people hope they can hold onto! [With all the supplies cradled under one arm, he straightens up and points at Yoosung with his other hand.] You should already understand that most people are weak and can't help each other out of the void without a real hope!