Vincent hears his own thoughts echo in Sephiroth's observation. His right hand closes, glove leather subtly creaking with the tension. He expels his breath slowly, forcing calm to return. Then he straightens; casting off from his makeshift support as if reluctant to let the stiffness of his injuries settle in.
"...It's a hard thing to accept." Statement. "Do you think you can?"
The question is asked; but it... isn't an interrogation. Vincent's tone holds an air of neutrality; if it were possible to believe, perhaps even no judgement. Well, he's as much admitted that he's had a long while to try and find the answer to that question himself. Vincent probably would be the last to blame someone who couldn't deal.
no subject
Vincent hears his own thoughts echo in Sephiroth's observation. His right hand closes, glove leather subtly creaking with the tension. He expels his breath slowly, forcing calm to return. Then he straightens; casting off from his makeshift support as if reluctant to let the stiffness of his injuries settle in.
"...It's a hard thing to accept." Statement. "Do you think you can?"
The question is asked; but it... isn't an interrogation. Vincent's tone holds an air of neutrality; if it were possible to believe, perhaps even no judgement. Well, he's as much admitted that he's had a long while to try and find the answer to that question himself. Vincent probably would be the last to blame someone who couldn't deal.