[he takes it naturally, the only expression hanging around Vincent's face that of faint interest. he owned knives of his own, of course, but had allowed a brief attack of politeness to prevent him from bringing any to today's activities; it's with a soft flash of admiration that he contemplates how Kit must have smuggled this one in.
despite its pretentious design, it's obvious to anyone with a scant amount of knowledge that the blade is well-made. he hefts it around a bit to get a feel for it, tossing it up and down occasionally purely to be an annoying little daredevil. he knows he'll catch it. as the knife makes one of its high-flying rotations, he hears a voice in his head - his own voice.
Do you know why I chose Kurama as a partner? It's because I'd never want to fight him as an enemy.
...not that I'd hurt him either way.
the flash is much softer than the others he's experienced, prompting nothing but a half-hearted punch to the head and a brief spate of wobbliness. Vincent still manages to catch the knife without incident, and he imagines that his momentary silence can easily be interpreted as examining the unnecessary design.
when he speaks, his words come slowly despite their firmness.]
He doesn't exist.
[of course. although he can't help but wonder whether that's his own attempts to impose his will on reality, a thought which troubles him as he hands the blade back to its owner.]
no subject
despite its pretentious design, it's obvious to anyone with a scant amount of knowledge that the blade is well-made. he hefts it around a bit to get a feel for it, tossing it up and down occasionally purely to be an annoying little daredevil. he knows he'll catch it. as the knife makes one of its high-flying rotations, he hears a voice in his head - his own voice.
Do you know why I chose Kurama as a partner? It's because I'd never want to fight him as an enemy.
...not that I'd hurt him either way.
the flash is much softer than the others he's experienced, prompting nothing but a half-hearted punch to the head and a brief spate of wobbliness. Vincent still manages to catch the knife without incident, and he imagines that his momentary silence can easily be interpreted as examining the unnecessary design.
when he speaks, his words come slowly despite their firmness.]
He doesn't exist.
[of course. although he can't help but wonder whether that's his own attempts to impose his will on reality, a thought which troubles him as he hands the blade back to its owner.]