[Nick couldn't help but feel a bit curious as he listened to Vash describe the loss of his arm, his brow furrowing but in interest and not any sort of negative expression. It wasn't something he'd ever asked on, hadn't ever felt entitled to knowing, so it was strange to just have it laid out on the proverbial table, felt almost like listening in on something he wasn't supposed to hear. The way the kid clung to Vash, though, redirected his thoughts again, and this time, the uncomfortable twisting in his chest at seeing him be so vulnerable just reinforced the surreality of the situation. He should hate the kid, he knew that. But more and more, that emotion was slipping through his fingers and leaving him unsure of what he should feel.
And then Vash's voice came again, only from behind, from a distance, and he blinked, in bewilderment before realization slammed into him like a blow to the head.
His head whipped around to the entrance to the bar, his sunglasses clattering down crookedly on his nose from where they'd been sitting atop his head, and he was clambering to his feet with a strangled "No fuckin' way!" before scrambling through the swinging doors.]
Needle-Noggin!!!
[And there he was, just down the street, obviously looking frazzled and like he'd seen better days, his hair streaked darker than he remembered it looking before. But it was Vash, the Vash he remembered, and suddenly he felt like he couldn't breath. Fuck! What the Hell did he say? "Oh, hey, long time no see?" or "Nice hairdye, spikey, think you missed a spot!" or even "Where the Hell have you been???"
None of it felt right, not after the last memory he had of him. No jokes, no greetings, none of it sounded right in his head. So he just stood there awkwardly for a moment, cigar hanging dangerously low in his mouth.
But oh. Wait. He'd been looking for the kid, hadn't he? He'd been calling out for his brother. Yeah, no. That made sense. He gestured at the doors of the bar weakly, straightening up and trying to regain his composure.]
Uh...hey. He's...the kid's in here. With, uh...with another you...
no subject
And then Vash's voice came again, only from behind, from a distance, and he blinked, in bewilderment before realization slammed into him like a blow to the head.
His head whipped around to the entrance to the bar, his sunglasses clattering down crookedly on his nose from where they'd been sitting atop his head, and he was clambering to his feet with a strangled "No fuckin' way!" before scrambling through the swinging doors.]
Needle-Noggin!!!
[And there he was, just down the street, obviously looking frazzled and like he'd seen better days, his hair streaked darker than he remembered it looking before. But it was Vash, the Vash he remembered, and suddenly he felt like he couldn't breath. Fuck! What the Hell did he say? "Oh, hey, long time no see?" or "Nice hairdye, spikey, think you missed a spot!" or even "Where the Hell have you been???"
None of it felt right, not after the last memory he had of him. No jokes, no greetings, none of it sounded right in his head. So he just stood there awkwardly for a moment, cigar hanging dangerously low in his mouth.
But oh. Wait. He'd been looking for the kid, hadn't he? He'd been calling out for his brother. Yeah, no. That made sense. He gestured at the doors of the bar weakly, straightening up and trying to regain his composure.]
Uh...hey. He's...the kid's in here. With, uh...with another you...
...Hi.