[ the idea that wolfwood has seen worse, has seen darker and more gruesome things doesn't surprise him, exactly. he doesn't know why he's not surprised, why he feels like he knows this, and it makes his head hurt even trying to suss out why he knows. there are so many questions, but when he meets wolfwood's eyes, all the noise goes quiet.
he should be here with him, that's the only truth he knows.
the man takes great care in bandaging him up and even with the bitter coffee, the shirt, and the bland little wafers he feels like he's coming back into his own body already, the fear and the cold slowly seeping away. his face fills with color however, when wolfwood swears he's no trouble. ]
Oh. Right. That's - you're really kind.
[ but a part of him knows that the trouble he's caused isn't curable by prayers, isn't stopped by words to God and he doesn't know why. ] If... If I remember what I did then I'll definitely tell you. I'm glad you found me. Who knows where I would have gone if you didn't.
[ he drinks the bitter coffee once more to try and prove he doesn't mind it, especially in the face of the man's apology. ] No, no it's good! It's just hot! In a good way, I mean I want coffee to be hot, right?
[ and with the gentlest order, vash sets the mug aside and reaches for the sweatpants. at first, he touches the fabric reverently, smiling a little. he brings it to his cheek first, marveling how soft it is - and it is soft, and he can tell it will be warm. it smells of the man across from him somehow - warm, musky, earthy. his face flushes when he realizes he's left it against his cheek too long and he hurriedly shakes them out, slipping his newly bandaged feet in and pulling until he stands, the fabric rucking up past his hips.
it's comically large on him, but he pulls at the little ties as tight as they can. he doesn't realize that the shirt does indeed slip over one shoulder in the process. ]
They're really warm. Thank you. For all of these things. It's really kind of you, and I don't know... well, I don't know how I can pay you back but I'll try. I... I don't remember anything but I bet when I do I'll have money somewhere. Maybe? I...
[ his brow pinches, his mouth turns down in a little frown. why can't he remember? ]
no subject
he should be here with him, that's the only truth he knows.
the man takes great care in bandaging him up and even with the bitter coffee, the shirt, and the bland little wafers he feels like he's coming back into his own body already, the fear and the cold slowly seeping away. his face fills with color however, when wolfwood swears he's no trouble. ]
Oh. Right. That's - you're really kind.
[ but a part of him knows that the trouble he's caused isn't curable by prayers, isn't stopped by words to God and he doesn't know why. ] If... If I remember what I did then I'll definitely tell you. I'm glad you found me. Who knows where I would have gone if you didn't.
[ he drinks the bitter coffee once more to try and prove he doesn't mind it, especially in the face of the man's apology. ] No, no it's good! It's just hot! In a good way, I mean I want coffee to be hot, right?
[ and with the gentlest order, vash sets the mug aside and reaches for the sweatpants. at first, he touches the fabric reverently, smiling a little. he brings it to his cheek first, marveling how soft it is - and it is soft, and he can tell it will be warm. it smells of the man across from him somehow - warm, musky, earthy. his face flushes when he realizes he's left it against his cheek too long and he hurriedly shakes them out, slipping his newly bandaged feet in and pulling until he stands, the fabric rucking up past his hips.
it's comically large on him, but he pulls at the little ties as tight as they can. he doesn't realize that the shirt does indeed slip over one shoulder in the process. ]
They're really warm. Thank you. For all of these things. It's really kind of you, and I don't know... well, I don't know how I can pay you back but I'll try. I... I don't remember anything but I bet when I do I'll have money somewhere. Maybe? I...
[ his brow pinches, his mouth turns down in a little frown. why can't he remember? ]
Sorry.