He blinked, and again. Shifted himself against the position in which he'd been sleeping for days. That perpetual frown soon following, dropping down in the space at the top of his nose again as he fought not to show his distaste, and that aching feeling on his one side, so obviously. He used to be so much more controlled than this, able to deal with anything life -during and pre-Crystallis- had thrown at him. In his own way, under his own terms, privately.

It didn't take more than a few more seconds for not only green eyes to drop and fall away from Vincent's form to the floor, but Sephiroth also turned his head so that it would be easier not to look at the gunman in the room. Shame. That skin-creeping feeling that he'd felt before, except he didn't have the whiskey to blame anymore. Neither could he easily fight-or-flight, currently.

Nor did he have someone who would always be there, to hold to his side and assure him that it would all be alright.

"I know." He muttered, biting back the urge to spit poison back at the other man. He could have ended all of this misery, just by being off with his aim. If Mary hadn't moved just so, if Sheena had pulled a different way against him...

"For whatever good that's going to do, now."