Ah yes, the teenage 'duh'. For maybe a brief second, though distance is still a factor here, Vincent's features might be glimpsed as his head tilts to regard Jolie again. There seems to be some bemusement. Or amusement.

"My bad. Consider it supper then." If it's an animal, it's better than the gruel and porridge those kitchens default to. No sense in letting meat go to waste by letting it run free in a desert like this.

He won't express such humor when he addresses the matter of dangers though. Vincent closes his eyes momentarily before releasing a heavy sigh. He steps away from whatever trunk of tree or outcrop of stone had been his go-to leaning spot in the shade. His right hand reaches down to grip the side of his cloak and a practiced, dramatic gesture sends it folded back to reveal his side in profile.

And the long, purplish tail that had been all but hidden under the length of the cloak until he offered the view. It had only taken a small scratch of the thorns on a cheek. A careless motion and even the leather, cloak and general outfit that nearly covered him was not enough.

Sure, it is definitely going to prevent Vincent from getting egregiously transformed by the thorns by the end of this part of the journey, but it goes a long way to suggest no one's safe.