The retort earns a laugh, easy and unperturbed; if nothing else, that this exchange is serving as a distraction is all he can ask of the situation at hand. "It isn't! But your concern was over bettering oneself, wasn't it...?"

But he's willing to play fair: after a moment, he tucks the gun away in his jacket, rubs his fingers together as if to smooth traces of gunmetal from the gloves. "What a kind thought," Vincent remarks. "Ah—that is, if dignity's a sort of high prize."