not that wolfwood is picky. they've slept in enough shithole motel rooms to fill a travel magazine, and this is far from the worst of them-- the lack of sand in every crevice is a strong point in the inn's favor alone. but there's something nauseating about it, the saccharine colors and knick-knacks, like a pasted-on grin smearing under the overwarm, yellowed lamp light.
speaking of pasted-on grins... vash is pretty good at conjuring them up, even if the rest of his face tells the real story all too well. a scowl pulls at wolfwood's mouth, counterweight to vash's smile, and he scoffs as he plunks himself down onto the bed. figures. he thought he'd never see vash again, and here he is, already trying to wiggle out of the conversation. it's wolfwood, so he refuses to take the bait. ]
I ain't tired, 'n I don't wanna talk in the morning. Get comfortable.
[ wolfwood fishes in his pocket and comes up with a pack of cigarettes, already short a few lights. he tips one out, tucks it between his lips, but doesn't light it. just savors the feeling of it in his mouth for a moment. it's the most familiar thing in this whole place. he pulls the cig back out between two fingers and points at vash with the unlit tip. ]
What is this place? How'd we get here? Is this... [ wolfwood pauses, gaze flicking to the side for half a beat-- tiptoeing around what he really should say, my fault-- ] 'cause of yer brother?
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not that wolfwood is picky. they've slept in enough shithole motel rooms to fill a travel magazine, and this is far from the worst of them-- the lack of sand in every crevice is a strong point in the inn's favor alone. but there's something nauseating about it, the saccharine colors and knick-knacks, like a pasted-on grin smearing under the overwarm, yellowed lamp light.
speaking of pasted-on grins... vash is pretty good at conjuring them up, even if the rest of his face tells the real story all too well. a scowl pulls at wolfwood's mouth, counterweight to vash's smile, and he scoffs as he plunks himself down onto the bed. figures. he thought he'd never see vash again, and here he is, already trying to wiggle out of the conversation. it's wolfwood, so he refuses to take the bait. ]
I ain't tired, 'n I don't wanna talk in the morning. Get comfortable.
[ wolfwood fishes in his pocket and comes up with a pack of cigarettes, already short a few lights. he tips one out, tucks it between his lips, but doesn't light it. just savors the feeling of it in his mouth for a moment. it's the most familiar thing in this whole place. he pulls the cig back out between two fingers and points at vash with the unlit tip. ]
What is this place? How'd we get here? Is this... [ wolfwood pauses, gaze flicking to the side for half a beat-- tiptoeing around what he really should say, my fault-- ] 'cause of yer brother?