[Sitting opposite Lupin and leveling a neutral gaze at him, he was reminded of when they first met in his private quarters with a prim and coy Fujiko at his side – the both of them wrapped around her pretty little finger - and this leering jester attempting to pass himself off as the executive producer of some bogus company...

He smiled in a passing moment of wry amusement.

That had been many years ago; a lifetime ago, he felt. He still had the capacity to be cold and imperious, but not in the same brutal, vicious way, indiscriminately ending lives with flashes of metal and gouts of blood- -

Goemon shook off the thought and raised his cup to his lips, his pinkie delicately extended out of habit. A thoughtful sip, an appreciative, appraising pause. He appeared to be in no hurry to answer the question.]

These journals are all of these things. One is capable of communicating by writing messages, calling, and by exchanging videos - and unless these messages are filtered, anyone who may happen to have his journal open will be able to see them, even if it was not intended for his viewing.

[He paused briefly, as if for effect.] However, there is an exception to this. If someone were to leave you voicemail, no one but you would be able to see or hear it.

[Closing his eyes, he then calmly indulged himself with a well-deserved sip of tea.]

And there is leftover mabo dofu in the refrigerator.