He felt his voice bubbling out in a small, almost hysterical-sounding laugh, and as much as Vash saw something in Wolfwood's face that worried him, the feeling was mutual. Something had absolutely rattled Vash, and you probably didn't even have to be named Nicholas D Wolfwood to see it. It was what he said more than the look on his face, though, that would have made his hands shake if he hadn't placed them firmly on the table and leaned to hide the tremors.
"Y-yeah, yeah...that...that sounds a whole lot like my Needle-Noggin. Always does his hair up like a fuckin' broomstick?" He gestured a shaky hand up at his own head, like he was fluffing his hair up high into the air. "Covered head to toe in leather underneath his coat?"
So had the Plants back home been calling out for Vash and somehow...but how? Why would it have gotten to them here?
But no, if they'd called for help, and they'd been calling out about Vash, and now Nico was gone-...he glanced around, swallowing around a lump in his throat as he spied the wrapped up Punisher still leaning against the wall behind where the other had been sitting.
He heard the question, the concern, even over the hubbub of the bar around them, but he was silent for a moment, processing, trying to make sense of what had happened.
"It felt just like before...I thought-..." my card had finally gotten properly punched "think they grabbed the wrong guy. They got the wrong me." If Vash's voice had been quiet, his was even lower, like it was hard to form words. But then he drew in a sharp breath, standing up straight.
"No, no, come on. He just walked out, right? We just missed 'im. Come on, gotta find 'im, let's go!" He was moving around the table before he could think, reaching for the Punisher and hefting it up over his shoulder with an "Oomph." It was heavier than he remembered. But then it had been a couple of years since he'd carried it, and he hadn't wanted to step on Nico's toes. He knew how much a part of himself the weapon was. This wasn't Wolfwood's weapon, it was Nicholas'. He needed to get it to its proper owner.
Cue two panicking softies
"Y-yeah, yeah...that...that sounds a whole lot like my Needle-Noggin. Always does his hair up like a fuckin' broomstick?" He gestured a shaky hand up at his own head, like he was fluffing his hair up high into the air. "Covered head to toe in leather underneath his coat?"
So had the Plants back home been calling out for Vash and somehow...but how? Why would it have gotten to them here?
But no, if they'd called for help, and they'd been calling out about Vash, and now Nico was gone-...he glanced around, swallowing around a lump in his throat as he spied the wrapped up Punisher still leaning against the wall behind where the other had been sitting.
He heard the question, the concern, even over the hubbub of the bar around them, but he was silent for a moment, processing, trying to make sense of what had happened.
"It felt just like before...I thought-..." my card had finally gotten properly punched "think they grabbed the wrong guy. They got the wrong me." If Vash's voice had been quiet, his was even lower, like it was hard to form words. But then he drew in a sharp breath, standing up straight.
"No, no, come on. He just walked out, right? We just missed 'im. Come on, gotta find 'im, let's go!" He was moving around the table before he could think, reaching for the Punisher and hefting it up over his shoulder with an "Oomph." It was heavier than he remembered. But then it had been a couple of years since he'd carried it, and he hadn't wanted to step on Nico's toes. He knew how much a part of himself the weapon was. This wasn't Wolfwood's weapon, it was Nicholas'. He needed to get it to its proper owner.