Gunsmoke -- Random Saloon -- State of Oblivion
Humans had always been a marvel to him. It had started with Rem of course, each one of her words putting Vash more and more in awe of her. And then there was the determination of those who'd crashed and found a way to survive on such a foreboding desert planet. And now they're reaching out to one another across space, bridging the gaps between impossible distances...
What impressed Vash the most was their skill at making sandwiches though, with lettuce that was fresh but somehow didn't make the bread soggy, and the mustard that was just tangy enough, and the dill pickle spear that snapped with every bite.
"Sure is hot today." The tender behind the bar muttered to himself before turning his one good eye in the gunman's direction. "How the hell do you stand that coat?"
Vash lifted his eyes from his plate before an awkward laugh escaped him at the question. "I get that a lot." He admitted sheepishly. "Chicks love it though! And red really is my color, don't you think?" The tender's bushy eyebrow raised as he studied the gangly man briefly before dismissing him as an idiot. ...Vash gets that a lot too. The gunman picked up his bottle of tomato juice, draining it of its contents before setting it back down with a satisfied sigh. The tiny crack that suddenly appeared and spread across the glass could be his first ill omen of things to come. If not then a sneeze without a source must be.
"Ahh--chh!" Vash stifled the sneeze but it still earned him a curious look from the bartender. A cold, in this heat? And in that get-up?! "Someone must be talking about you." The man offered before turning his attention back to wiping out beer mugs. Vash laughed again while standing from his stool and searching his pocket for the few double dollars he had left on him. He left his lunch money on the bar before turning towards the door.
"I really hope you're wrong about that friend...for my sake."
What impressed Vash the most was their skill at making sandwiches though, with lettuce that was fresh but somehow didn't make the bread soggy, and the mustard that was just tangy enough, and the dill pickle spear that snapped with every bite.
"Sure is hot today." The tender behind the bar muttered to himself before turning his one good eye in the gunman's direction. "How the hell do you stand that coat?"
Vash lifted his eyes from his plate before an awkward laugh escaped him at the question. "I get that a lot." He admitted sheepishly. "Chicks love it though! And red really is my color, don't you think?" The tender's bushy eyebrow raised as he studied the gangly man briefly before dismissing him as an idiot. ...Vash gets that a lot too. The gunman picked up his bottle of tomato juice, draining it of its contents before setting it back down with a satisfied sigh. The tiny crack that suddenly appeared and spread across the glass could be his first ill omen of things to come. If not then a sneeze without a source must be.
"Ahh--chh!" Vash stifled the sneeze but it still earned him a curious look from the bartender. A cold, in this heat? And in that get-up?! "Someone must be talking about you." The man offered before turning his attention back to wiping out beer mugs. Vash laughed again while standing from his stool and searching his pocket for the few double dollars he had left on him. He left his lunch money on the bar before turning towards the door.
"I really hope you're wrong about that friend...for my sake."