[ Wolfwood gives a little whoop when music comes singing out of the speakers on the motorcycle, and it's so nice that it's music and not some crusty news report or fanatical religious devotional. time just... goes, for a little while, Wolfwood keeping himself present enough to keep them gliding smooth and pretty--it's weird to drive near other cars, but he's getting used to it.

there's a warmth in his chest too. it's not so much from Vash--his Vash never rode sidecar in their journey, but the edges of being tucked into the backseat half-asleep and venting heat through careful breathing and subtle fighting over the fan comes to mind, and it's almost? comfortable? he can almost look back on it fondly without immediately jumping to how everything ended.

he's trying very hard to let go of how everything ended. it's not going to help him or hurt him here, in the middle of cosmic nowhere, as it were.

he'll do the gas-man duties as Vash buys their stuff and gets the pump turned on, filling the bike for however much Vash put in the tank, grinning when the man goes and grinning when he comes back and tries to entice him to eat before they go. ]

Anybody that steals my bike will meet the business end of my gun.

[ all ends of his gun were the business end, truth be told, but he'll leave whether that means the bullet part or the heavy-ass cross part up in the air as he rolls the bike forward to sit in a parking space instead, turning so that his feet are up on the sidecar as he holds his hand out for his share of the grub. ]

I dunno about you, but I can drive and eat at the same time. If you wanna be a priss about it, though, we can fill up here.