(no subject)
Nicholas D. Wolfwood had been around. You might have seen him in passing, as he tended for the plants which lined the outside walls of the bar, making sure they were well insulated to prepare for winter.
He'd seen snow last winter, but was still amazed by the stuff. It was white and cold and pure, and it made him realize that maybe, just maybe, things on Stantal weren't all that great, but there were things in the universe that still showed God's grace and ability.
Snow. Well, he couldn't say he hated it, but you wouldn't see this dead gunslinger priest going outside in it for more than a few minutes. He was currently seated by the back door, looking out one of the windows, enjoying the view of the lake and the snow-covered ground as he sipped on some coffee while occasionally leafing through gift catalogs.
He'd been busy, learning about customs and holidays that his people had long forgotten. And one, at least in his branch of religion, was coming up soon. He'd put aside some money and started looking for gifts which would suit his friends. He didn't know if Vash knew what Christmas was, but he was sure that his friend was not going to turn down a gift. The problem was, what do you get a wandering gunman who lived on a desert planet, one who would live an indefinite but long time?
Socks were RIGHT out of the question.
He'd already gotten the gift picked out for Ajedrez, and a small trinket of appreciation for Belle (Though she'd been gone out of the bar, she still saw him on occasion.) He even thought about getting that young lady he'd played chess with a gift, but she didn't seem the holiday-celebrating type.
Oh well.
Nick was smiling, that's really what mattered, just at that moment.
He'd seen snow last winter, but was still amazed by the stuff. It was white and cold and pure, and it made him realize that maybe, just maybe, things on Stantal weren't all that great, but there were things in the universe that still showed God's grace and ability.
Snow. Well, he couldn't say he hated it, but you wouldn't see this dead gunslinger priest going outside in it for more than a few minutes. He was currently seated by the back door, looking out one of the windows, enjoying the view of the lake and the snow-covered ground as he sipped on some coffee while occasionally leafing through gift catalogs.
He'd been busy, learning about customs and holidays that his people had long forgotten. And one, at least in his branch of religion, was coming up soon. He'd put aside some money and started looking for gifts which would suit his friends. He didn't know if Vash knew what Christmas was, but he was sure that his friend was not going to turn down a gift. The problem was, what do you get a wandering gunman who lived on a desert planet, one who would live an indefinite but long time?
Socks were RIGHT out of the question.
He'd already gotten the gift picked out for Ajedrez, and a small trinket of appreciation for Belle (Though she'd been gone out of the bar, she still saw him on occasion.) He even thought about getting that young lady he'd played chess with a gift, but she didn't seem the holiday-celebrating type.
Oh well.
Nick was smiling, that's really what mattered, just at that moment.