As the two continued along, they eventually broke through the clouds and into the crystal clear sky above. Vincent momentarily paused his ascent to take in the view. Sights like these, all of Skyrim spread out before him, were what he lived for. They were what gave him purpose, and were what he was willing to fight to protect. However, his momentary serenity was broken by the girl tripping over something. Turning his attention back to her, he saw the aftermath of some manner of battle. The undead they had encountered on the way up appeared to be one of the participants. At least he spared them the trouble of dealing with whatever was lurking up here.

"No," Vincent answered, idly taking the helmet from the girl and examining it, "I would think not. He gives me the feeling of a particularly persistent problem."

Tucking the helmet under his arm, Vincent noticed an Argonian dart past them, kicking up a great deal of snow in its hurry to get to (presumably) High Hrothgar. Vincent decided that it was high time to continue on, and shortly followed after the lively reptilian. The old monastery was soon after reached at last, and Vincent quickly invited himself inside. Brushing off whatever greetings were being showered on him, he heard a familiar voice echoing through the stony halls. Following it into the dining hall, he spotted the undead from earlier harassing the Argonian that had passed them. Eyes smiling with mischief, Vincent approached them, still bearing the helmet that had been left in the snow.

"Ah, sir, you seem to have misplaced this." He held the helmet out as though to hand it to him, but then dropped it to the floor, metal hitting stone with a resounding clang. Walking to a more shadowed corner of the hall, further from the fire, Vincent continued to jest, "One must take better care of their belongings. Not many are as kind-hearted as myself; anyone could have passed by and snatched it up for themselves."