A year ago, Masaomi would have punched the bastard right then. There are no other viable responses to a statement like that; to acknowledge it is to accept it, but to ignore it is impossible. He wants to punch Vanitas, to send that smug expression flying out of his face. He wants to not have to think, and he wants to not have to feel anything but the adrenaline boosting him the hell out of here. Now that he's learned the hard way how useless lashing out is too, however, he's trapped, neutered. All he can do is clench his fists uselessly at his sides.

He swallows, breathes, does his damnedest to convert fear into something a little more useful. He doesn't manage anything more than wetting his dry throat. "I'm the one who's here, not her," he affirms through clenched teeth. Though his voice is choppy with suppressed emotion, he speaks right to Vanitas' face. "That's what matters."