17 • [voice|action]

[endthem]

[it has been a long time since he's opened his eyes and understood where he was. Through the delirium, he wakes and finds himself staring up at the familiar ceiling of his vacant apartment room in town. No laboratory. No disordered sensations that accompany experimentation and captivity. ...No, he's actually awake. It's a hard fact to take in, at

Comments

[goldenglasses]

[Vash does not like the sound of this. That's Legato's voice, but... something isn't right here. Sorry, but he's not about to speak up just yet.]

[endthem]

[not right at all, actually. Dragging the journal along with him as he wanders the streets, it picks up the occasional delirious murmur. Talking to himself as he dazedly makes his way through town....

...and he's looking for you, Vash]

[goldenglasses]

[Vash listens to that mumbling for awhile. It's what finally gets him on the move to look for you himself. He was just going to stay as far away as he could when you got back, but that murmuring...

...it would probably be best if he found you before someone else.]

[endthem]

[it's not a bad idea, because--especially without the full range of his mental radar--he's all turned around. He manages to make it to the fountain, that being a central point that he can try to get his bearings from...

...but it mostly amounts to him leaning weakly against a wall nearby, looking horribly sick]

[goldenglasses]

[This is Vash. Standing with an umbrella and watching you just off a little ways. Maybe he should help, but that would require getting close.

Yeah, he's just... going to stand here and try to blend into this shadow. Hoping you don't notice him watching and no one comes close.]

[endthem]

[the umbrella helps. It's enough of a visual target for Legato to notice out of the corner of his bleary eye, focusing when he notices all the red.

You should have worn a different color if you didn't want to be noticed, Vash.

With no small amount of effort, he pushes himself away from the wall with his remaining arm, and begins the slow stagger in Vash's direction... a crooked smile on his face!]

[goldenglasses]

[Vash forces himself to stand firm. Every nerve in his body is telling him to run, but he keeps the stoic look on his face. Even though on the inside, he's terrified right now.]

Legato, you're sick. You need to rest until what they did wears off.

[endthem]

Sick. [the smile turns into a wavering chuckle as he weaves his way unsteadily closer] Why does everyone keep saying that?

[goldenglasses]

Because you can hardly stand up straight. [And won't... stop laughing.]

[endthem]

[he almost loses his balance then, staggering a step to catch himself. This, too, is apparently really damn funny]

I feel terrible. [while still laughing, of course]

[goldenglasses]

Then you should get home and rest.

[endthem]

I would love to go home, Vash. Wouldn't you?

[whoa, feeling woozy. He has to stop and wait for the wave of lightheadedness to pass, blinking slowly, a few scattered chuckles still slipping out]

Gets one more tag in before sleep. Yay for brushing teeth!

[goldenglasses]

[Vash decides not to answer that. It'd be a lie to say he hasn't enjoyed his time in Luceti. Away from the stresses of being an outlaw and having to decide what to do about Knives. Living in a place where most get along and it's so green. No, until he can figure out how to bring Wolfwood safely back with him, he's not ready to go home.

So instead he changes the subject.] We should go inside. You're only going to get sicker. [And I want you away from people.]

whoohoo!

[endthem]

Wouldn't that be something? [he doesn't move. He's frankly unsure that he can take a steady step yet] --If I stood out here and got worse?

[the laughing gets bad then, because... it's just so funny. Doubling over a little, helplessly caught as he snickers over the idea]

[goldenglasses]

[He doesn't mean to, but Vash can't help but take a step back as you start laughing. It's all he can do to keep from outright running. What are you thinking in that little head of yours Legato?]

[endthem]

[it takes him a minute or two-- hands on knees, snickering so much that he can barely catch a breath. It's that uncontrollable kind of laughing fit, the kind that only gets worse when you try to stop.

Eventually he has to stop however, as the nausea overwhelms him and his stomach twists, causing laughter to turn into a bout of dry heaving]