The laugh he lets out is small and tight and bitter. On most people it would probably be mistaken for a sound of disgust but... he doesn't laugh very much and as such is out of practice with it.

I lost myself. It's one of the first thoughts he remembers having after he woke up on Hojo's operating table, looking down to see what he'd become. He hoped it was a nightmare but... wakeful reality has proved otherwise. There are days when he's capable of little more than sitting curled up in the corner of a room, his hands around his knees, his head buried against the light because the light points out all that he's become and reminds him of all that he's lost. As hard as he tries not to fall prey to that sort of behavior, there are times he just... can't help it. He doesn't claim to have things worse than anybody else, but... there are moments -- fortunately few and far between -- when he can't stand the circumstances of his life for another minute.

The only thing he fears is actually losing himself in those moments. Whatever it is that keeps Chaos at bay... well, he's been lucky for the most part.

So far.

He turns to Maya Antares, the woman with the name like a poem, and studies her by the light of the moon. "I think... if someone really wants to get lost, it's not that hard. Even in a place where the distance moves in deceptive ways."

Breathe, Vincent, Breathe. It appears to be the key ingredient to maintaining a semblance of balance.