Vincent was too tired to take notice of anything but a soft ringing in his ears for a while. He wanted to stop thinking about the vision, to stop organizing it into a file. Vincent would have much rather forgotten the whole thing. He was brought back to reality by the small voice whose source was a little closer than he was anticipating. He drew in a sharp breath through his nose before thinking up a response. Vincent blushed in embarrassment. He raised a hand, ran his fingers through his hair, and let the hand slide down his face, ultimately resting it there to scratch at the stubble that was growing against his will. He thought, for a second, how nice it would be to have a razor right now.

 Vincent took some time to actually look at the girl. He noted how small, proportionate to the size of her voice, she was. His dark eyes traced her silhouette until they rested on her swollen wrist. Vincent made eye contact with her. He put on a sympathetic face. 

"Yeah, I'm," he paused, "fine... Thanks." He had that 'I just woke up' sound to his voice. It was from trying not to cry in front of a room filled with strangers. 

Vincent looked back down at her wrist. She didn't seem to be in pain, though it looked like a nasty injury. He leaned forward in an attempt to look more closely. Vincent had seen bruises like that, not nearly as bad, and they usually meant something worse. Vincent hoped for the rare occasion that it was just a bruise. He furrowed his brows at the thought of asking for a first aid kit from one of the guards. Maybe someone could spare a t-shirt.

"Are [i]you[/i] okay?" Vincent asked, looking back up to the girl's face. He weakly gestured to her wrist.