For a while, Vanitas was convinced Vriska was going to act like he wasn't there, and that definitely pressed one of his buttons. If she continued to ignore him he'd have to teach her why it wasn't a good idea to turn her back to him. Maybe he didn't believe what the staff at Yellow Brick was saying, just like most everyone else didn't, but what was the proof? What did any of them possess that proved conclusively that they were the people they thought they were?
And then there had been that dream he'd had after therapy. It had seemed to last an instant, but it was the only dream he'd had that night, and somehow he knew it was from his real life. Or, at least, that's what the drugs they force-fed him were telling him.
Vanitas looked at Vriska coolly when she finally turned to him, and he supposed he wouldn't teach her a lesson with his fists this time - not in the least because there was staff in the area and no doubt they would stop him anyway, and send him to his room for a whole day to sit and do nothing.
"What does it have to do with?" he asked, both annoyed and curious by Vriska's confidence. Vanitas lacked the confidence to feel conclusive either way, especially because of a certain person at Yellow Brick who didn't match up with what happened in his memories, so he wondered how anyone else could be that secure. If it wasn't a feeling she had in her heart which, in his experience, counted for a lot, he hadn't a clue what it could be. Hopefully she would explain that to him without a lot of sass in between.