Look, if you want me to be honest about it-- [ not that Wolfwood and honesty are on great terms, but sometimes the little harlot slips out of him when he's too drunk or tired to play up pithy, rough exterior, and he is nothing if not exhausted and full of weird, contrasting emotions that he's not being allowed to destroy--whether it's the furniture, or himself, or the feelings, he's got nowhere to go but on a gentle slope downwards.
he wishes he could crash land. he's good at running after crash landings. ] I woulda, yeah. But that's because I know myself--I'm really, really good at keeping myself together. And yes, I can already hear you sayin' it--so's Vash. Vash has a hundred years on me of being alone and taking care of himself.
[ he sucks his teeth and takes a drag off his cigarette, holding the smoke until his lungs ache, and then his hisses it out in a vague plume, letting himself be drawn in and curled around. ] ... so Vash has done his time, don't you think? Havin' stuff taken away because of his stupid brother. Havin' to pick up and carry on alone. If it comes to--choices and sacrifices, maybe it's somebody else's turn to catch the bullet for once.
[ cringe or not, Vash's heart is free, and Wolfwood closes an eye as he thinks, as he toys with his cigarette. ] Some of the gangs back home, when they were executin' people, they'd load them up on food and water and then they'd tie them up for the worms--because it'd hurt more when they ran dry, rememberin' the feeling of being full an' not being thirsty. If this goes... bittersweet, that's what I think it'd be like for Vash, and he's done that enough in his life. I'm not gonna take the canteen away, you know? You're a tall drink of clean water, big guy.
[ and then Dante pulls him in, mentally and physically and emotionally, serving him his heart with all the trimmings, and Wolfwood finds his mouth is running a little dry in a less proverbial sense. the older man is so kind in his way, in how promising to destroy Wolfwood utterly comes as easily as promising to keep him safe, as if it's all interchangeable hallmarks of care, and Wolfwood just doesn't know what to do with all the red running and pulsing in his hands.
so he leans in. he reaches out. cupping the side of Dante's face and pushing up so he can rest their foreheads together, his sigh highlight in silvery smoke as he does so. ] What am I gonna do with you, you big sap? You keep rollin' out this red carpet treatment and I might get used to it.
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he wishes he could crash land. he's good at running after crash landings. ] I woulda, yeah. But that's because I know myself--I'm really, really good at keeping myself together. And yes, I can already hear you sayin' it--so's Vash. Vash has a hundred years on me of being alone and taking care of himself.
[ he sucks his teeth and takes a drag off his cigarette, holding the smoke until his lungs ache, and then his hisses it out in a vague plume, letting himself be drawn in and curled around. ] ... so Vash has done his time, don't you think? Havin' stuff taken away because of his stupid brother. Havin' to pick up and carry on alone. If it comes to--choices and sacrifices, maybe it's somebody else's turn to catch the bullet for once.
[ cringe or not, Vash's heart is free, and Wolfwood closes an eye as he thinks, as he toys with his cigarette. ] Some of the gangs back home, when they were executin' people, they'd load them up on food and water and then they'd tie them up for the worms--because it'd hurt more when they ran dry, rememberin' the feeling of being full an' not being thirsty. If this goes... bittersweet, that's what I think it'd be like for Vash, and he's done that enough in his life. I'm not gonna take the canteen away, you know? You're a tall drink of clean water, big guy.
[ and then Dante pulls him in, mentally and physically and emotionally, serving him his heart with all the trimmings, and Wolfwood finds his mouth is running a little dry in a less proverbial sense. the older man is so kind in his way, in how promising to destroy Wolfwood utterly comes as easily as promising to keep him safe, as if it's all interchangeable hallmarks of care, and Wolfwood just doesn't know what to do with all the red running and pulsing in his hands.
so he leans in. he reaches out. cupping the side of Dante's face and pushing up so he can rest their foreheads together, his sigh highlight in silvery smoke as he does so. ] What am I gonna do with you, you big sap? You keep rollin' out this red carpet treatment and I might get used to it.