[ wolfwood has eaten noman's land worm raw and alive, a bit of cooked fish isn't going to put him off his dinner. he's settled on the log next to vash, legs stretched out with his feet resting on the boundary stones of the firepit, listening to vash talk, his head cocked towards the man as if that'll help him listen better while his eyes are fixed on something else.

the cat ears are nowhere in sight.

he has a pair of shot glasses tucked between his fingers, using his other hand to pour a nice amount of liquor into them. he spins the cap back into place with a thumb on the bottle, offering vash his outstretched hand for their--second? shot of the night.]

I mean. That's kind of nice, all things considered. Don't gotta worry about some massive hive beast hopping out of the dirt and eating your garden or part of the city up the way, if the worms are just little wet tubes.

Fish can't be any worse than burnt worm meat or week old Tomas. You could kill a man with week old Tomas.

[ has wolfwood killed a man with tough bird meat? vash will be left to wonder as he curls his fingers around his own shot, raising it to clink with vash's. ]

It all smells pretty nice, at least. Maybe you should give that kid some vegetables and fruits as thanks.

[ and it's not because wolfwood has a soft spot for kids, shut up. ]