[they always did, he supposed. despite only looking out for themselves, people had a nasty habit of poking their noses where they weren't needed. it was something that he forgot, sometimes. it's a hard thing to remember when you're always leaving.

Kit's unprompted correction of the severely botched story elicits laughter from his companion - real laughter. it takes Vincent several moments to formulate a response, the cigarette bouncing jauntily between his fingers in time with the trembling of his shoulders. it was a brutal image, and yet there he was laughing as if he'd been told a fantastically amusing joke.

when was the last time that he'd laughed like this, without cynicism? the answer lies somewhere so long ago that he's no longer able to recall even the vaguest approximation of a date. an eternity since this sound had emerged...and yet he'd already done it twice tonight.

that was very dangerous.]

He never could tell vegetables apart.

[he murmurs the observation to himself, allowing one last soft chuckle as he finally settles down enough to take another drag off his cigarette. Styx could wail with the best of them, but he was never going to be an intellectual.]

It sounds like they should've been thanking you to me. Extractions are always a pain in the ass.