[There's a pause as Vincent blinks blearily and glances at Barret. He has some memory of being here, the absurd outfits, and grumbling about his lack of personal clothing and effects. Like goddamn they even took his Queen's Blood deck, it's fucked up, man. Now he's stuck with a fuzzy pimp jacket and... well, not hell of a lot else, but he's discreetly closed the coat around himself and tucked his left arm away. Nobody needs to see that shit.
Then there is Barret who, of course, is ready to be on the offense.
Vincent just rolls over and closes his eyes, ready to go back to sleep.]
honeywagons...
Then there is Barret who, of course, is ready to be on the offense.
Vincent just rolls over and closes his eyes, ready to go back to sleep.]