[ it strikes him then, something that rings odd about wolfwood's appearance - he can't figure out what it is, so vash is just going to do what he usually does and stare like a blockhead that he is. it's not his hair, or his sunglasses, or that sad stub of a cigarette burning itself out in the sneer of his mouth. it's not his hands either, shoved into his pockets. it's not the crumpled suit he always wears. it's --
he doesn't say anything, for a while, but his gaze turns a little more clear, a little more present in the here and now, a birdlike tilt in his head as vash continues looking on. he knows he doesn't have to say anything about the empty space immediately behind or beside wolfwood - the absence of straps that dug angry red grooves into the calloused palm of his hand. somehow, it's strange to see him without the punisher - but for once, vash chooses to not comment on it, drawing attention to the gaping open void between them. ]
Sorry, [ it is said simply, softly, without any frills. ] I won't.
[ they both know that vash is a sucker for making promises that he can't keep. ]
no subject
he doesn't say anything, for a while, but his gaze turns a little more clear, a little more present in the here and now, a birdlike tilt in his head as vash continues looking on. he knows he doesn't have to say anything about the empty space immediately behind or beside wolfwood - the absence of straps that dug angry red grooves into the calloused palm of his hand. somehow, it's strange to see him without the punisher - but for once, vash chooses to not comment on it, drawing attention to the gaping open void between them. ]
Sorry, [ it is said simply, softly, without any frills. ] I won't.
[ they both know that vash is a sucker for making promises that he can't keep. ]
So do you!