Vanitas sharpens right away. It's something in his stance, it's in the sudden brightness in his eyes— like a shark scenting blood in the water, a newfound intensity in his focus. Vanitas takes a half-step forward, aggressive.

"And what did you do better?" His mouth pulls back, but his expression looks less like fury now and more like a manic kind of glee. He isn't happy— what does Vanitas know about happiness?— but excitement, Vanitas clocking what he perceives as some sort of outlet for all his impotent frustration. This is what he's good at, after all. Tapping into the darkness and letting it spread out like rising water.

"He's dead now. Him and that other guy. What use were you in the end?"