Vincent hasn't spoken up again. Putting action to his suggestion, he'd turned to give his equipment a thorough once-over. Materia in the armband is dull as well but his gun is in order and ammo at ready.

The gunman looks up at the change in Tifa's tone as she voices her question. It's met with a straight expression and uncanny ruby eyes that betray little. Is it rude? Is it not? Nothing is given away even though privately, Vincent finds it only reasonable to have asked.

He looks back down where his fingers have been gracefully refilling a clip to its capacity, as though the question needed no explanation. Much less an apology.

"Nothing's changed there."

Not like the materia, dulled out and ineffective. Vincent still feels the beast inside him. He finishes the clip and returns it to his gun. No need to chamber a bullet as it's already present.

"We need to talk after the storm's past."