Vincent watched as his young ward fell into unconsciousness again. He knew it was bound to happen, with him moving around like that and the obvious blow to the head he had sustained. Well, it wasn’t so obvious, but it was enough so that he knew it had happened.

But then again, he had watched it happen, so of course it wasn’t hard for him to place.

Looking down at this young silver haired man, Vincent couldn’t help but find the irony in this situation as he picked the compress off of him and put it back in it’s rightful place at the man’s brow.

What with all of the fighting with men like this he and his group had been doing lately, it was almost funny that Vincent should be helping one now. But this boy was different from Kadaj, his brothers and Sephiroth, he could sense it. He may be foul mouthed, he may be confused, he may not know what side he was on, but he was no cold-hearted murderer. And also, when he had finally gotten to see those eyes of his for the first time after picking him up off of the street, he hadn’t seen any of the familiar traces of malice in them that the three brothers had.

Instead he had found whole new outlets, and an overwhelming cockiness and strength that he could not help but admire.

All of the man’s wounds had already healed; all that remained now was for that blasted fever to drop.

Vincent had no doubt that that would soon pass. He could smell the dark aura surrounding the sleeping man, and chalked the quick recovery up to the same reasons that he himself healed quickly.

He isn’t all human; he found himself thinking as he reached for the book he had been reading while his charge slept. Deep down, that thought excited him, and he didn’t like that fact at all. It wasn’t him that that prospect excited, not him by a long shot.

He shook his head to clear it and opened up his book, eyes scanning over it in a content manner before delving into the story once again.