[ his teeth itch when wolfwood mentions Knives and Apples, his throat feeling dry and raw as he looks up at the man who's hovering over him. he--he'd know, being his wolfwood--but how would he know? He died back then, too, before everything ended, before Millions Knives almost destroyed the planet, before he...

He shakes his head. Trying to focus, trying to free himself from the spectre of his dead friend, that he tries
so hard
to convince himself *isn't there*.
He can't know anything that he's saying, so he--

He opens his eyes, and the man is so close, he can smell the blood on his own tongue as he pets his face, thumbing over his cheeks. Leaving small trails of blood on terribly pale white skin.

Vash's hand grips his gun a little harder. He draws it from its holster, and pulls it up towards his chest. ]

--I don't. Care what happens to me. If using me in the generator to get us home is a possibility, I'd let them do it. [ he whispers that quietly--almost desperately, because maybe part of him would like to die, if only if it meant he'd not have to feel like this anymore.
And maybe he'd be able to be with Wolfwood somewhere noone could take from him. But...

Once again his thoughts drift to Kni. Young, damaged, but improving as a person. Able to live among humans despite disliking it; avoiding hurting them and taking a kinder path.
He can't let knives get hurt by these people. That's where he draws the line.

But then he also quietly dreads how Knives would react if they hurt him--
And the smell of blood gets stronger. ]

--for the sake of everyone on this ship who is still kind.

I need to survive.
And I need to protect Kni.