The middle of the night is not a problem compared to the suns being up. His gaze turns briefly upwards, counting how many moons are visible. It was rare there was a moonless night, and if all five were out and even half full, there'd be plenty of light to see by on the way to wherever this town was. But there was a level of obstinance he didn't dare really push; he wasn't sure yet the level of obedience Knives demanded was necessary here. Finding out the hard way wasn't in the cards, so he'd wait until he was well outside of the range of whatever Vash the Stampede could bring to bear.
Which was, by his hazarded guess, at least on the other side of a sand sea. That hole in the moon didn't appear there all on its own. "I don't think I'll bleed out. It's not as bad as it should... as it looks, probably."
It's not an argument, he's being too careful with his tone and deliberately unthreatening body language to be an argument. Does he know this place? Had he been here before, in one of the Gung Ho Guns' larks across the landscape? Was this damage caused by one of them? Midvalley doesn't follow immediately, gaze turning back to the impromptu memorial of a 300 pound machinegun-missile launcher for a long moment before turning away.
Like hell Chapel is dead, if he's still alive. He'll have to keep his head on a swivel, just in case.
This place felt like it should have ghosts. Midvalley was not a superstitious man, but it's with an uncomfortable chill that he finally follows. Maybe there'll be a tub and some water, his saxophone needed cleaning as badly as he did.
"Don't know how aware you were during ... all of that, with the feathers." Careful, careful. "Do you know what happened to Hopperd? You two, or Legato?"
That was the chorus teacher at mine.
Which was, by his hazarded guess, at least on the other side of a sand sea. That hole in the moon didn't appear there all on its own. "I don't think I'll bleed out. It's not as bad as it should... as it looks, probably."
It's not an argument, he's being too careful with his tone and deliberately unthreatening body language to be an argument. Does he know this place? Had he been here before, in one of the Gung Ho Guns' larks across the landscape? Was this damage caused by one of them? Midvalley doesn't follow immediately, gaze turning back to the impromptu memorial of a 300 pound machinegun-missile launcher for a long moment before turning away.
Like hell Chapel is dead, if he's still alive. He'll have to keep his head on a swivel, just in case.
This place felt like it should have ghosts. Midvalley was not a superstitious man, but it's with an uncomfortable chill that he finally follows. Maybe there'll be a tub and some water, his saxophone needed cleaning as badly as he did.
"Don't know how aware you were during ... all of that, with the feathers." Careful, careful. "Do you know what happened to Hopperd? You two, or Legato?"