One of the nice things about fighting with Vincent is that, unlike some people, he's never acknowledged the scales. And it's not like he doesn't know they're there; as Irahl wrenches his arm out from underneath him, Vincent grabs for the rapidly-disappearing hand, snags a wrist, and feels a little of their texture before that also slips away.

But there's no reaction, he just rolls away because he's sure he's about to get kicked in the back if he doesn't--and then he tries to sit up despite his sense of balance going a little sideways.

"Damn, dude!" Part frustration, part excitement, all grin, "Fuckin' slippery bastard..."

Gods, a bed really is the worst thing to be fighting on. He's not about to get his legs under him, that's for sure.