It was totally a moment. Vince liked moments. Vince figured there was rarely, if ever, a need to hold back an impulse that, within reason, should be yielded to. In this case, the impulse was to allow Paul a larger glimpse as to his large worth to his ol' friend. Meaningful interaction is what fed him. Shallow displays of smaller ways of connecting enraged him. That was why Roy being a little bitch got so far underneath his skin... and like the piss of Frederick Nietzsche in his final, syphilis-toiled delirious days, it burned.
"Ohhh! Fell right into the trap, Indiana Jones! Trick question." he'd slapped his hand onto his own jeans for the impact of the land mine going off. He was pretty sure Paul walked into it to be a sport. Oh, Paul! What a sport! Vince's laughter was stately, regal, the sort of laugh one would want in their commercial. It incited images of ancient, Spartan kings staring down their noses at those who opposed them. It was hearty and loud, and he loved hearing it. Especially after his own jokes. Sadly, it retired from its brief run on broadway.
"We can take my car." Said he, sliding his hand into his back pocket for the keys. "The asshole who blocks me in has probably left by now."