[whether he was guarding against retaliation or not (he was, but not enough) there was really only so much resistance one could offer on an industrial stairway. Vincent hits the opposite rail with a soft grunt, the wind briefly knocked out of him from the impact.
it stings and may even bruise later in the night, but he barely even feels the pain. all he can see is an outlet, finally, something concrete that he can understand - and more importantly, an easy excuse to vent the tension that's been steadily mounting since this god damned headache first pierced his skull. he's glad, more than anything else, that Kit's proven unreceptive to the overtures of the very thing he'd come to fish up.
the irony's enough to get him laughing, an unkind sound that only serves to make his ugly smile all the more worrisome. the majority of the experience in fights likely goes to his foe, but Vincent is hardly posturing with his choice in fashion. he's hopped up enough on someone else's rage that he's certain he has more than a fighting chance here.
the idea that this is perhaps the worst possible place in the world to brawl never occurs to him.]
No, but you're going to in a moment!
[it really was fitting that Kit had essentially slapped away the product of all his hard labor. those arrogant enough to believe they could understand a stranger's mind perfectly inevitably ended up allowing their misconceptions to blind and misdirect them. for once, he's grateful to have been misunderstood.
Vincent may be short, but he's never counted that as a disadvantage. especially not here and now when he can move with startling rapidity to try and headbutt the other boy, knocking both his breath away and hopefully sending him crashing to the floor. on the ground everyone was equal.]
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it stings and may even bruise later in the night, but he barely even feels the pain. all he can see is an outlet, finally, something concrete that he can understand - and more importantly, an easy excuse to vent the tension that's been steadily mounting since this god damned headache first pierced his skull. he's glad, more than anything else, that Kit's proven unreceptive to the overtures of the very thing he'd come to fish up.
the irony's enough to get him laughing, an unkind sound that only serves to make his ugly smile all the more worrisome. the majority of the experience in fights likely goes to his foe, but Vincent is hardly posturing with his choice in fashion. he's hopped up enough on someone else's rage that he's certain he has more than a fighting chance here.
the idea that this is perhaps the worst possible place in the world to brawl never occurs to him.]
No, but you're going to in a moment!
[it really was fitting that Kit had essentially slapped away the product of all his hard labor. those arrogant enough to believe they could understand a stranger's mind perfectly inevitably ended up allowing their misconceptions to blind and misdirect them. for once, he's grateful to have been misunderstood.
Vincent may be short, but he's never counted that as a disadvantage. especially not here and now when he can move with startling rapidity to try and headbutt the other boy, knocking both his breath away and hopefully sending him crashing to the floor. on the ground everyone was equal.]