He's quiet while she talks. It doesn't sound like a denial, but he's attentive, just to make sure. When it feels like she's come to the end of her point, Junkrat looks down at his fingers, which have been fidgeting mindlessly throughout her talking, and still are, while he--for once in his life--considers his words carefully.

He knows how he feels, but putting them into words is hard. He kind of wishes they could share memories again, so she could really know how he felt, instead of having to push it through the restrictive meat grinder of language.

"Our job...what our superiors wanted us ta do...it ended when we found that relic. They didn't need us to stay the night, ta fight over which path we should take, ta fight over who gets to make the campfire, ta climb up a mountain and cover ourselves with weird, giant flower pollen. I did it because it was fun--and because ya wanted to."

He finally looks back up at her to make eye contact, to make his real point:

"It had everything ta do with who ya are. What ya are ta me."