[ Wolfwood tenses at the first touch, and Vash almost pulls away right then. But he knows this man -- his body, at least, if not his heart and mind -- and he can feel the slight lean in, the way he almost lets his head come to rest on Vash's shoulder. The way he holds himself so tightly, bloody hand kept away from Vash in a gesture that feels more metaphorical than actual.
He can feel the exhaustion in those broad shoulders, and so, instead of pulling back, Vash leans in further, until they're pressed chest to chest, and his long arms can't wrap any further around Wolfwood's frame. ]
Is this okay? [ Blood doesn't show up well on red -- just one of the reasons Vash favors the color -- but this close, Wolfwood might be able to see the blood stains on Vash's shoulder, and the slits in the coat material there, left by the darts thrown by the Eye's goons. The fresh blood stains, barely an hour old, from that final, terrible fight. ] Tell me this is okay.
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He can feel the exhaustion in those broad shoulders, and so, instead of pulling back, Vash leans in further, until they're pressed chest to chest, and his long arms can't wrap any further around Wolfwood's frame. ]
Is this okay? [ Blood doesn't show up well on red -- just one of the reasons Vash favors the color -- but this close, Wolfwood might be able to see the blood stains on Vash's shoulder, and the slits in the coat material there, left by the darts thrown by the Eye's goons. The fresh blood stains, barely an hour old, from that final, terrible fight. ] Tell me this is okay.