"Mm." Vincent tilts his head a little and seems to ponder this.

"Maybe. I knew better than to go in." The call was there. Others hadn't resisted and are suffering fish fins and gills for it. Maybe Vincent had a bit of mental fortitude to prevent those steps.

But it doesn't mean he hadn't been caught in another way. He closes his eyes. Taking a deep breath, his right hand lifts a rock from the bank. And though he hesitates, looking from the image to the rock in his hand for several minutes, he finally casts it onto the image.

It warps and distorts and probably tries to solidify again. But Vincent with an eerie swiftness that might seem to bypass several natural movements of the human body, is on his feet and turned away from the river's surface.

He starts to walk by and past Faith.

"Coming?"

They can walk back together. Perhaps in a way that lack of simply wandering off into the marshy terrain by himself is indicator that Vincent feels it's wise to keep company, lest the illusion trap him again.

...Oh and he's not going to apologize for questioning her idiomatic tastes. Clearly.