Vincent hesitates for just a moment; part because it's simply habit not to speak of a trump card so openly but also... he doesn't really speak of his monstrous nature. Not to near strangers. Arguably an enemy.

"My... other form," he finally states. "...has an affinity for fire." Vincent's gaze seems to grow distant in thought before he continues. "During the storm of bird monsters when I first arrived, I saw no signs of it either."

A close range fight for dominance with Sephiroth may make sense, but the advantage of range and having no signs of fire attacks in the aftermath is now making him wonder if it was just the circumstance.

He snaps out of the thoughts as Sephiroth brings attention to the matter of his own injuries. And... frowns.

"I... took care of the worst." One of the precious 'potions' he'd taken away from their journey through the desert's thorny brambles are gone, now. But he couldn't afford the deeper injuries and even then some pain and wounds remain. "Bound the rest."

He doesn't mind having it pointed out. "...Shouldn't have needed to though." It might not have healed instantly, but it all should have.... righted itself. Not felt so... well, painful.