[ he doesn't need to answer, not even acknowledging it is enough for wolfwood to know he hit the nail right on top of the head. of course, he hasn't, if everything they were told was true then... jesus christ, if he thought vash was bad enough before. with the sandwich delivered he stuffs his hand back into his pants pocket, brow furrowed in an almost permanent scowl that somehow keeps just getting deeper and deeper with each passing moment.
he doesn't want to acknowledge the comment, doesn't want to openly admit he honestly didn't think he'd ever see vash again - at least not alive. there was no telling what was going to happen to him after he left wolfwood in that hallway after he had washed his hands of that job and watched that red coat disappear through those doors. he doesn't want to acknowledge how truly glad he feels seeing him here now, alive, breathing, though maybe a little sickly from days of denying himself even the simplest of pleasures.
so wolfwood doesn't acknowledge it, he only stares at the grass, stares at vash. a moment passes and he exhales heavily, plopping down on the grass beside him. ]
Eat it, or I'm shoving it down your throat myself.
no subject
he doesn't want to acknowledge the comment, doesn't want to openly admit he honestly didn't think he'd ever see vash again - at least not alive. there was no telling what was going to happen to him after he left wolfwood in that hallway after he had washed his hands of that job and watched that red coat disappear through those doors. he doesn't want to acknowledge how truly glad he feels seeing him here now, alive, breathing, though maybe a little sickly from days of denying himself even the simplest of pleasures.
so wolfwood doesn't acknowledge it, he only stares at the grass, stares at vash. a moment passes and he exhales heavily, plopping down on the grass beside him. ]
Eat it, or I'm shoving it down your throat myself.