[Once again, Vash finds himself wondering if he's gone too far. And once again, Vash crashes through the line he tries to draw, even as he's in the process of mapping it out. His arm slides out and around Wolfwood's waist, keeping him close. It's not quite as enveloping as the jacket might have been, and it probably lacks the warmth to go with it, but it's still a gentle gesture all the same.
His own head tilts, angling so that he can rest his chin on top of Wolfwood's head. He hasn't felt so right — and so wrong — about a gesture in ages.]
I'm sure I do. [There's a hint of unsteadiness in his voice. He'd been asked to stay, but would that continue to be true if Vash told the truth? His background wasn't pretty, and his hands were far from clean. Would it make the Punisher think twice about him and the ideals he already seemed to detest?
It would be better for them if it never came up at all. Instead:]
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His own head tilts, angling so that he can rest his chin on top of Wolfwood's head. He hasn't felt so right — and so wrong — about a gesture in ages.]
I'm sure I do. [There's a hint of unsteadiness in his voice. He'd been asked to stay, but would that continue to be true if Vash told the truth? His background wasn't pretty, and his hands were far from clean. Would it make the Punisher think twice about him and the ideals he already seemed to detest?
It would be better for them if it never came up at all. Instead:]
You can ask me anything you want.