After the moon warp ended, Vincent's physical changes disappeared. A quiet, understated relief to him, though he knew all was not well. Every day, as the Convoy closed up its shields and he went through the motions expected from him at their most minimal, the blazing sun overhead felt like it was sucking the energy out of him. People probably wouldn't notice without having known him a while and he was careful to stay out of critical gazes as a habit anyway.

But his reactions were duller. Took him longer to stir from his seat or leaning spot. Everything took more effort. Oh, he was covered enough that maybe if Vincent took to wearing a hat or a hood there would be relief. Just stepping into one of the trailers at a rest stop was often enough to ease that feeling. So it didn't take him long to connect sunlight itself to this new exhaustive effect. He'd not been overly fond of the brightness of day before. Now it was actually becoming a problem.

At night though? He became alive again. And he's about to welcome it, doing nothing more remarkable while waiting than stripping a bird he'd managed to shoot- blessedly with a smaller caliber weapon than an unfortunate rabbit several days earlier- when a glimpse of silver scales and black feathers catches his attention. That's... not good.

It's also heading right toward him. That's.... arguably not good for most folks days. Vincent chooses to view it as not looking a gift chocobo in the mouth.

The dinosaur will find, in the growing darkness, the sight of crimson red fluttering in the wind as Vincent hurdles over a few vehicles. Not too close, but still a moving, alluring target; and one that carries with it the smell of flesh blood and meat.

Bird blood, but still a resource.