Vincent feels pretty good about how this went. Irahl's 'squiggling' is met with low, steady chuckling--the kind of stupid, thoughtless laughter that'd probably keep going if he didn't start trying to say something.

"Fuckin' sayin' I can't break your arm, we'll fuckin' see..."

It's clearly a joke--even drunk, Vincent's not the type to spring to actual horrible violence that wasn't consented to by all parties--but he does move around enough to try and manipulate Irahl's forearm, which is Irahl's opening. It doesn't help Vincent that they're on a fancy mattress that takes a while to absorb all of his weight, so Irahl isn't pinned as far down into the bed as he'd imagined.

He finds himself suddenly with no arm under him to speak of. Hm.