Vash was curling up again, and he wasn't quite sure what he'd said to set him off again, which only made him want to fuss at him more before the other Vash's presence managed to stop the spiral, and he was left sitting there, looking between the two of them with obvious concern on his face. He wasn't as good at hiding the way he was feeling, anymore. The glaring, scowling, frowning and sneering that he'd so often used as a physical barrier against the outside world before December had seemingly taken a back seat to more open looks. So when Needle-Noggin looked at him, told him with just a look without even needing to be told it was in question, that it was him, that he should stay, he just stared back and nodded, eyes wide and watery and with a look that said yes, please, he had so much to say, laced with pain that he was having trouble hiding.

But then, oh, oh, Blondie asked how Vash was doing, and it hit him, that the other looked so composed, and he wondered if he knew, how he was able to be so calm, when he remembered the effects that remembering July had caused, even if his eyes had been shot to shit and he hadn't been able to see the results. He'd heard it, and he'd overheard Milly and Meryl talking later, and when his sight had returned, he remembered the hollow look that had been in Vash's eyes and how much pain he had been in.

He stared at him, worry clear on his face before shifting to confusion at the way he chirped, at the "magic trick" he was trying to do. He recognized the intonation, the obvious influence of the Big Girl as clear as the sky, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what the Hell he was trying to accomplish.

So when he started asking Blondie to name something red, he looked down at the other man, back again, and even though he wasn't the one who was the subject of the exercise, his mind answered the question, too.

Vash's coat? That's red. Why does he need to find something red? What good is this supposed to do?