The man's obvious happiness at the fact that people were dead, one of whom Vash still cared about even after all the years of abuse and terror and the other that had died at Vash's own hand, left enough of a sour taste in his mouth that the horrified confusion in his soupy brain began to settle to a more mellow sort of bewilderment. He continued to lay in his awkward sprawl, listening to the man - Mud-...Midvalley? Something like that, the memories from that particular encounter tend to blur into a bit of white noise after a point - until his state of sobriety was questioned, at which point his face fell just a bit.
This really wasn't what he wanted right now. This was not why he was here. He didn't answer immediately, even with the reassurances that he wouldn't shoot as long as Vash didn't first, simply began to slowly shift and pull himself to a sit before turning his back on the man and moving to heft the Punisher out of the sand, leaning it on his shoulder so that he could begin to dig a little divot into the ground at the head of the gravestone so that when he propped it back up, it would be a bit more stable.
"You're outisde December." His voice rumbled out softly as he worked, one hand cradling the gun to his chest as the other fought with the way the sand insisted on sliding back down into the hole almost as quickly as he shoveled it out. It was the easiest question to answer, and the one that didn't feel too personal. "There's nobody here. People haven't come back yet, but if you head into town, they've started to come back, there. The inn is open again."
He reached a point where he figured the hole was deep enough and slid the Punisher down, letting his body weight wedge it in just a bit deeper before he began shoving the sand back in around it.
"...Ok. That'll hold for now, ok? I promise t'come back an' fix it when I'm not-...whatever." His voice was quieter, whispered only the grave to hear. He really didn't want to leave just yet, but...He gave a long, exhausted sigh, his shoulders slumping before he shifted to lift himself to his feet, bent at the waist, and grabbed his bag.
And then he was turning again, hefting the rucksack over his left shoulder, and looking back at the man in front of him.
LOL I legitimately had to look that one up, and that sure was a blast from the past!
This really wasn't what he wanted right now. This was not why he was here. He didn't answer immediately, even with the reassurances that he wouldn't shoot as long as Vash didn't first, simply began to slowly shift and pull himself to a sit before turning his back on the man and moving to heft the Punisher out of the sand, leaning it on his shoulder so that he could begin to dig a little divot into the ground at the head of the gravestone so that when he propped it back up, it would be a bit more stable.
"You're outisde December." His voice rumbled out softly as he worked, one hand cradling the gun to his chest as the other fought with the way the sand insisted on sliding back down into the hole almost as quickly as he shoveled it out. It was the easiest question to answer, and the one that didn't feel too personal. "There's nobody here. People haven't come back yet, but if you head into town, they've started to come back, there. The inn is open again."
He reached a point where he figured the hole was deep enough and slid the Punisher down, letting his body weight wedge it in just a bit deeper before he began shoving the sand back in around it.
"...Ok. That'll hold for now, ok? I promise t'come back an' fix it when I'm not-...whatever." His voice was quieter, whispered only the grave to hear. He really didn't want to leave just yet, but...He gave a long, exhausted sigh, his shoulders slumping before he shifted to lift himself to his feet, bent at the waist, and grabbed his bag.
And then he was turning again, hefting the rucksack over his left shoulder, and looking back at the man in front of him.
"Come on. I'll show you the way."