He's still eating. Slow as molasses in January, sure, but it's still happening. Wolfwood's incapable of relaxing around any version of Knives, but he has to admit, it does seem like this one isn't like the one he knows. Knew.
There's a dozen versions of Vash here, and at least one of them is so unlike Vash as to be unrecognizable. And if there can be a Vash who delights in killing, then maybe there's a Knives out there who doesn't. Maybe there's a Knives who went a different route, like the little one is going to. Maybe this Knives isn't a threat.
And maybe he's just playing things close to the chest. Maybe he's out of power. Maybe... maybe guessing isn't going to get him any answers and he should stop it already.
"You're still him though, aren't you?" It's not a question so much as an accusation. Wolfwood's gaze darts away from Knives just long enough to take a quick tally of the rest of the patrons and staff of this little place, and still, nobody's looking at them at all. It feels like sitting on a powder keg. Like walking through worm country barefoot. "One in a million."
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There's a dozen versions of Vash here, and at least one of them is so unlike Vash as to be unrecognizable. And if there can be a Vash who delights in killing, then maybe there's
a Knives out there who doesn't. Maybe there's a Knives who went a different route, like the little one is going to. Maybe this Knives isn't a threat.
And maybe he's just playing things close to the chest. Maybe he's out of power. Maybe... maybe guessing isn't going to get him any answers and he should stop it already.
"You're still him though, aren't you?" It's not a question so much as an accusation. Wolfwood's gaze darts away from Knives just long enough to take a quick tally of the rest of the patrons and staff of this little place, and still, nobody's looking at them at all. It feels like sitting on a powder keg. Like walking through worm country barefoot. "One in a million."