He'd been on his way to Octovern when, from a distant speck on the horizon, he heard the rather obvious sounds of absolutely enraged cursing. And just like every other time he's heard someone in obvious distress, regardless of the fact that he'd been headed in a completely different direction, Vash's feet turn and begin bringing him closer. He can't not.
"Hellooo!" He lifted his arm in greeting before he was too close, plastering the friendliest smile he could on his face, and it wasn't long before he was close enough to finally get a look at the man standing on the other side of the broken down vehicle.
That was, of course, when he felt slow, dawning horror beginning to slide through his veins like ice water.
He swallowed down a lump in his throat, the smile on his face growing strained as he looked the man up and down. Things were...off. Different. Smaller frame, sloppier dress, younger, that ranting voice sounded just slightly off-pitch to the rumbling tenor of the man in his memories.
But as much as there was that was wrong, so much of it wasn't, and when he was close enough to lift his hand in greeting again and didn't have to shout to be heard, the hand not carrying the duffel bag over his shoulder was visibly shaking.
"Hey, friend. Car break down?"
The smile fell almost immediately after he was done speaking, his hand stuffing itself deep in his pocket, and there was a distinct feeling of the world shifting around him that he knew well. The world was twisting around him, his brain beginning to feel as if it were two inches to the left of his body, disconnected and floaty in a way that was usually a precursor to a shut down.
He fought through it for now, forcing himself to stay verbal, even though every word had to be forced out through a throat that was tightening around them. He couldn't...this wasn't...no. No. It wasn't Nicholas. Nicholas was dead. He was dead and gone and had been for months, now, and this was just a man who looked and spoke far too close to him for Vash's own comfort.
"I don't have fuel, if you're out of gas, but maybe I can help if it's a busted engine?"
2 Mwahaha
"Hellooo!" He lifted his arm in greeting before he was too close, plastering the friendliest smile he could on his face, and it wasn't long before he was close enough to finally get a look at the man standing on the other side of the broken down vehicle.
That was, of course, when he felt slow, dawning horror beginning to slide through his veins like ice water.
He swallowed down a lump in his throat, the smile on his face growing strained as he looked the man up and down. Things were...off. Different. Smaller frame, sloppier dress, younger, that ranting voice sounded just slightly off-pitch to the rumbling tenor of the man in his memories.
But as much as there was that was wrong, so much of it wasn't, and when he was close enough to lift his hand in greeting again and didn't have to shout to be heard, the hand not carrying the duffel bag over his shoulder was visibly shaking.
"Hey, friend. Car break down?"
The smile fell almost immediately after he was done speaking, his hand stuffing itself deep in his pocket, and there was a distinct feeling of the world shifting around him that he knew well. The world was twisting around him, his brain beginning to feel as if it were two inches to the left of his body, disconnected and floaty in a way that was usually a precursor to a shut down.
He fought through it for now, forcing himself to stay verbal, even though every word had to be forced out through a throat that was tightening around them. He couldn't...this wasn't...no. No. It wasn't Nicholas. Nicholas was dead. He was dead and gone and had been for months, now, and this was just a man who looked and spoke far too close to him for Vash's own comfort.
"I don't have fuel, if you're out of gas, but maybe I can help if it's a busted engine?"