Since I absolutely love this analysis, now let me do it from Lupin's point of view.
You are an extremely intelligent child and at the same time, extremely sensitive. And you are alone. Something happened with your mother, something traumatic that you don't remember or don't want to remember. You barely see your absent father and each time you are more convinced that he doesn't love you. Your only "family" is your grandfather, a crazy man who has been psychologically abusing you since you were a child and is obsessed with you following in his footsteps. Because yes, whether you like it or not, that cool man like Lupin 1 is perfidious, manipulative and egomaniacal. That grandfather who told you when you were very little "you're hungry, do you want to eat? Well, open the safe or don't eat." That grandfather capable of killing you to get your heart. Literally.
He probably told you not to cry, that crying was cowardly. You are a tool, a clone of your father and grandfather, who must follow the family tradition.
You can't believe that your own family could treat you so badly. So you invent a way of being, a way of hiding your pain beneath false carelessness, exaggerated optimism, always smiling, pretending that nothing affects you. You are the almighty Lupin III, damn, you will be like your great grandfather and your great father, selfish, indestructible, insensitive, only you and your victories matter. You are rich, powerful, you can get whatever you want when you want.
Well, in fact, no. You cannot.
And when no one can see you, you take off your mask and you're just a scared, hurt, abandoned kid.
Then he arrives. That lonely, mysterious boy. God, how cool he is, he looks like the hero of a movie, with his gun and his tough gesture. But that is not all. When you look at him, you feel something strange. Security. Comfort. Calm. There is something in those eyes that makes you feel calm. And you need someone like that. Someone you can trust, someone to protect you, someone to listen to you. You know he could be that person, but when you try to get closer, he pulls away. In a short time, your hypersensitivity and your acute intelligence realize that this lonely boy carries great sadness and pain almost as strong as yours, and that makes you feel more attached to him.
On the one hand you want to make that boy happy, and on the other hand, you desperately need him to stay by your side.
So you must manage to cajole him. And in your style, carefree, thuggish, elegant and charmingly trickster. And boy, you get it, it costs you but you get it.
And everything is just as you thought. That boy knows. He knows how to defend himself and you, he knows how to organize your chaos. He knows how to laugh, that smile of his when you're both having a great time. And he knows how to fight with you. Because you fight, damn it, sometimes he gets really annoying, sometimes you have to literally drag him to do something, sometimes he scolds you and you feel angry, and you end up punching each other. Who is he to tell you what to do? But, after the fury, you notice that this scolding has done you good. You even think that you would have loved to receive it from your father. Or your mother.
And one day, you do something reckless. You need to know it. You need to listen it in his own words.
Although you know that he could shoot you at any moment, although you know his deadly aim, you approach while he points his gun at you, and you put your hand on his chest. In the chest of the dangerous boy, the lone wolf with melancholy eyes.
Then, with your back turned, because you don't dare to know the answer, you ask him:
And after a silence that seems eternal, he answers. And when you turn around, he's smiling. That smile of his.
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