Hunting worms settling in for a nice snack is very different than actually holding a conversation, and the sun and heat has long since taken a toll even on him, well used to the desert and its issues by now. The tiny shade offered via his post wasn't great, but it sufficed. Had to. Just like the worms had to suffice, just like the faint breeze had to be enough to carry some of the smell of what Kniv-- what happened here away. Wolfwood's tracked with a steady but glassy stare as he reaches up and grabs the chain, the beginnings of a frown crossing his face; that's not going to work, shooting it repeatedly had barely made a dent how is a human ever going to break it with bare hands, look he's already bleeding and- "..Hey, don't.."
And the ring of steel that had kept him from getting very far drops unceremoniously to the unpleasantly dirty ground, leaving him free and distinctly bewildered since he's pretty sure there's not a human alive that can do that kind of thing, so maybe he's not dealing with a human. It's hard to move that arm, stiff and sore from being locked in one position for so long, and there's a brief movement from the stump of his other one that suggests he was probably going to try to rub it or something. There's a crusted ring of damaged and worn skin where the cuff used to be. Vash is processing what's going on around him, it's just lagged a little.
Like them being friends. That had to mean Knives, and that sort of made sense, if anyone was going to find people who might not be human, call them friends, and send them to find him it would have to be his brother, which meant he was okay and not dying alone somewhere of infection. It's a relief, almost as much as being found at all was. On the other hand it left him with the conundrum of Take Meal Bar or Get Up. Being carried was for babies, so the apparent teen hesitates a moment before accepting what might be a granola bar and then working on dragging himself to his feet while the man in red goes for his gun. It's going to take effort, and he might! Actually! Be able to do it!
Except then he's scooped up anyway with a startled eep, nearly dropping his new snack bar and completely losing any kind of toe grip on his worm. Both of these guys are WAY stronger than he thought at first glance, he wasn't exactly a heavyweight or anything but that sure felt awfully effortless, and as much as he mourned the loss of the worm, at least he had something more foodlike to .. work on figuring out how to open. Teeth will have to do, as precarious as his balance is on someone else's hip, metholodically working on figuring out a problem he never thought he'd have. It's going to get crumbs all over this other guy's coat and maybe his hair though.
"Iff awright." Hey it's almost words, if muted by meal bar wrapper, as he pulls himself together as best he can. Alertness! Words! He can do it! He's not going to embarass himself in front of his brother's friends! It's astonishing Knives had any to begin with! He can't fall apart now and leave a bad impression, they were being so nice. Unfortunately his best is still not great but he is definitely making an effort to not look as terrible as he feels. It's awkward to hold onto meal bar AND crimson jacket but he's managing, albeit barely. They're going to have to leave his arm behind. His.. other. A moment of blankness is shaken off slowly before he fixes his gaze ANYWHERE but on his own rotting limb on the ground and visibly works on forcing as much clarity as he can manage. "Can you .. there might be..." He hesitates, unsure how Knives' friends might handle the question.
His voice isn't as clear as he might have liked, hoarse and dry. He already knew there were no other survivors, but he still had to hope that somehow, some might have been missed. They were important.
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And the ring of steel that had kept him from getting very far drops unceremoniously to the unpleasantly dirty ground, leaving him free and distinctly bewildered since he's pretty sure there's not a human alive that can do that kind of thing, so maybe he's not dealing with a human. It's hard to move that arm, stiff and sore from being locked in one position for so long, and there's a brief movement from the stump of his other one that suggests he was probably going to try to rub it or something. There's a crusted ring of damaged and worn skin where the cuff used to be. Vash is processing what's going on around him, it's just lagged a little.
Like them being friends. That had to mean Knives, and that sort of made sense, if anyone was going to find people who might not be human, call them friends, and send them to find him it would have to be his brother, which meant he was okay and not dying alone somewhere of infection. It's a relief, almost as much as being found at all was. On the other hand it left him with the conundrum of Take Meal Bar or Get Up. Being carried was for babies, so the apparent teen hesitates a moment before accepting what might be a granola bar and then working on dragging himself to his feet while the man in red goes for his gun. It's going to take effort, and he might! Actually! Be able to do it!
Except then he's scooped up anyway with a startled eep, nearly dropping his new snack bar and completely losing any kind of toe grip on his worm. Both of these guys are WAY stronger than he thought at first glance, he wasn't exactly a heavyweight or anything but that sure felt awfully effortless, and as much as he mourned the loss of the worm, at least he had something more foodlike to .. work on figuring out how to open. Teeth will have to do, as precarious as his balance is on someone else's hip, metholodically working on figuring out a problem he never thought he'd have. It's going to get crumbs all over this other guy's coat and maybe his hair though.
"Iff awright." Hey it's almost words, if muted by meal bar wrapper, as he pulls himself together as best he can. Alertness! Words! He can do it! He's not going to embarass himself in front of his brother's friends! It's astonishing Knives had any to begin with! He can't fall apart now and leave a bad impression, they were being so nice. Unfortunately his best is still not great but he is definitely making an effort to not look as terrible as he feels. It's awkward to hold onto meal bar AND crimson jacket but he's managing, albeit barely. They're going to have to leave his arm behind. His.. other. A moment of blankness is shaken off slowly before he fixes his gaze ANYWHERE but on his own rotting limb on the ground and visibly works on forcing as much clarity as he can manage. "Can you .. there might be..." He hesitates, unsure how Knives' friends might handle the question.
His voice isn't as clear as he might have liked, hoarse and dry. He already knew there were no other survivors, but he still had to hope that somehow, some might have been missed. They were important.