Ange was torn. He wanted to say, Alright, see ya! and leave and never come back. After all, she'd run out of usefulness... and frankly, Ange didn't need her anymore. Still, something tugged at his heartstrings when he stared at Vanity. He found that no matter how hard he fought to get his feet to move, he was stuck. His feet were firmly planted, as if his brain knew better than to let his body decide. Ange groaned.

"I can't let you do that, Vanity." Ange whispered. He walked in front of Vanity to stop her from revealing herself. He couldn't say to Vanity that he returned her feelings, but he definitely felt something for Vanity. He wasn't too sure what it was. He wasn't used to being "loved". Ange grabbed Vanity's hand and tugged, trying to lead her deeper into the woods. The voices off in the distance slowly grew, as if they'd been spotted.

Ange was angry. Vanity had already killed for him once before... It was his turn to return the favor. Without thinking, he yelled, "We're over here, assholes!" He suddenly moved quick as lightening and picked up a large stick, hopefully it would be enough to use as a weapon to defend themselves. Ange would kill for Vanity, and maybe then, she'd understand how he was feeling.