If anything, Sephiroth's long silences spoke volumes. As Vincent knew he's not very much a conversationalist but when it came to listening, to really taking things in, no matter how he wanted to close himself away his natural thirst for knowledge overrode that somewhat. It's what he did with that information, when it had time to percolate deeper into his thought processes, which would define him going forwards from this point.

He'd made a very sharp point in not meeting with Vincent's eye contact, at all though. Something inside his chest still quivered under the potential pressure that others' judgment might make him feel again. Sephiroth had felt, for a long time, that he was a shadow of the man that he'd come in as and how he was left feeling -utterly destroyed- in the wake of his loss was only further proving it to himself. He'd let himself become weak, and he was starting to hate it.

"I shouldn't have allowed myself to get into this position, in the first place." He eventually made a comment, lowly, but the sincerity -the absolute honesty- with which he spoke that statement might seem haunting; and more than a little inhuman. Indeed, Sephiroth was already in the process of trying to deaden those nerves. To mute that emotion that was more raw still than even the fresh scarring he would have to now nurse.

"I don't understand it...how I managed to set myself up for this fall."