[ Vash mulls that one over for a hair longer than necessary, thoughts pleasantly sluggish now, before plucking the candy from his mouth and holding it out in front of his face. ]
Ba-aw... [ He drawls the noise out, rolling it around in his mouth until he can practically taste it, and drops his head onto Wolfwood's shoulder. He's close enough to feel the warmth of his own breath blow back on him as it puffs against Wolfwood's neck, and for some reason that makes him smile. ] You don't really wanna hear me sing, do you?
[ Vash can't even honestly say that his singing is bad—but then, he's only ever had his sisters to judge. He sings to them sometimes, when no one else is listening, when they're confused or sick or dying and he doesn't know what else to do. It seems to help as much as anything else, and if it bothers them, he's never heard tell of it.
Doing that in front of an audience capable of human speech? In front of Wolfwood? He's gone pink again, and this time it's not the alcohol. ]
I mean, I could try, but it's kinda embarrassing...
[- Wolfwood rolls his eyes at the drawn-out noise Vash makes, but he's too comfortable to jostle them and reach over and tousle Vash's hair like he would any other time, just to annoy him.
Besides, Vash is curling into him and that's— Wolfwood can't even describe what that makes him feel. His cheeks burn, and Wolfwood is thankful it's dark and that Vash (hopefully) can't see his face from his angle. ]
Gotta have a singer to go along with this music of yours, and it ain't gonna be me. [ Wolfwood sang to the kids in the orphanage a thousand pleasant memories ago and hasn't attempted it since then. He'd probably sound as good as one of the thomas's squawking. ]
How's it embarrassing? [ Oh it would be terribly embarrassing to Wolfwood too but he's not the one singing here. ] I've already seen you get fumble down a flight of stairs and your bedhead hair, can't be worse than that.
[ Vash huffs, a sound that makes his shoulders expand and then deflate like the air going out of a tire. At least Wolfwood makes a comfortable place to lean—he doesn't think he's peeling himself off that shoulder anytime soon. ]
Yeah, but you've seen that. You haven't seen me sing, [ Vash complains, waving the glass in his hand around vaguely. ] I mean, what if I'm really off-key and they throw vegetables at me! That'd be wasting food—
[ He's not even sure why he's nervous about it. It's rare to see a busker in any bar in No Man's Land who can hold a tune for more than a couple heartbeats, and Vash is... pretty sure he can do that. Maybe it's because it's Wolfwood, and this little fantasy of his has spun out of control into a memory he dearly wishes he could make and cherish.
He's thinking wistful thoughts, he realizes, and that's never good, so he pops the candy back in his mouth and reaches all the way across Wolfwood, grabbing for the moonshine. ]
C'mon, gimme the bottle, I'm not drunk enough for singing yet.
You think any of 'em are gonna throw food, if they had that? [ Wolfwood snorts and rolls his eyes, very amused at this picture: Vash playing the piano, singing off-key for a crowd with enough food to throw at him. ] They'd probably throw their glasses at you. Or their shoes, which would be worse than any rotten food.
[ He wrinkles his nose, thinking of that. ] You ever smelled the feet of one of these ruffians after they've walked around an entire day? Disgusting. We'd have to kick 'em out for that, so we gotta make sure you can sing.
[ As Vash reaches across, Wolfwood grabs the bottle, raising it over head. Despite that, he's careful not to jostle Vash too much, too comfortable, enjoying this far too much. That's dangerous territory, and Wolfwood knows it, but he's too tipsy to care. ]
You think being drunk's gonna improve your singing?
No, [ Vash says, his eyes following the bottle in Wolfwood's hand up, and up, like he's just learning object permanence for the first time. He squints at it resentfully, sitting just out of his reach. ] But it'd sure help with the stage fright.
[ Not to be deterred, Vash gets his knees under him and slings both arms around Wolfwood's neck, leaning heavily on him. He summons up his best, most pitiful pout, lower lip protruding, lashes fluttering over the biggest, saddest puppy eyes he's sure he's ever made in his life. ]
Wolfwood, [ he says, and it's not as sweet as he'd like it to sound, not with a hand slowly creeping up Wolfwood's arm, trying to snatch his prize down from on high. ] gimme the bottle. Please?
[ Wolfwood's eyes widen momentarily when Vash loops his arms around his neck; he didn't expect Vash to nearly crawl into his lap, and the sneaky hand creeping up his arm is a downright tease. He blushes and huffs at Vash, glad that the light is dim and he can blame any heat on his cheeks on the alcohol.
He's a strong, stoic guy. He can resist the puppy eyes. Mostly. Somewhat. A little.
Goddamnit, Vash— ]
What are you gonna do with the bottle, Blondie? You've still got a drink, don't you?
[ He's not sure, honestly. Not even sure what's left in his glass. His fingers tighten around the bottle, but there's only so far he can stretch without completely dislodging Vash. ]
[ Vash considers it for a second, squinting at the glass in his other hand that still has at least a quarter of its contents sloshing around inside. He really doesn't have an excuse to be all over Wolfwood like this, does he?
Except he does. It's just got nothing to do with the bottle.
Seized by a fit of impulse, Vash makes a decision, tipping back the glass and downing the rest of his drink in one swift motion. ]
Sure don't.
[ He spits what's left of his sucker into the empty glass.
Then he leans in and kisses Wolfwood, just as fast as knocking back another shot of liquor.
He's not thinking too hard about it. It just seemed like the right move in the moment, and the way Wolfwood's lips are warm and chapped against his own—well, he's certainly not second-guessing himself now. Besides...
His hand creeps up Wolfwood's wrist and seizes the neck of the bottle, finally in reach to tug it from his grasp.
He makes a noise against Wolfwood's mouth that might be a ha! but he doesn't seem in a hurry to get away with his prize just yet. ]
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Ba-aw... [ He drawls the noise out, rolling it around in his mouth until he can practically taste it, and drops his head onto Wolfwood's shoulder. He's close enough to feel the warmth of his own breath blow back on him as it puffs against Wolfwood's neck, and for some reason that makes him smile. ] You don't really wanna hear me sing, do you?
[ Vash can't even honestly say that his singing is bad—but then, he's only ever had his sisters to judge. He sings to them sometimes, when no one else is listening, when they're confused or sick or dying and he doesn't know what else to do. It seems to help as much as anything else, and if it bothers them, he's never heard tell of it.
Doing that in front of an audience capable of human speech? In front of Wolfwood? He's gone pink again, and this time it's not the alcohol. ]
I mean, I could try, but it's kinda embarrassing...
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Besides, Vash is curling into him and that's— Wolfwood can't even describe what that makes him feel. His cheeks burn, and Wolfwood is thankful it's dark and that Vash (hopefully) can't see his face from his angle. ]
Gotta have a singer to go along with this music of yours, and it ain't gonna be me. [ Wolfwood sang to the kids in the orphanage a thousand pleasant memories ago and hasn't attempted it since then. He'd probably sound as good as one of the thomas's squawking. ]
How's it embarrassing? [ Oh it would be terribly embarrassing to Wolfwood too but he's not the one singing here. ] I've already seen you get fumble down a flight of stairs and your bedhead hair, can't be worse than that.
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Yeah, but you've seen that. You haven't seen me sing, [ Vash complains, waving the glass in his hand around vaguely. ] I mean, what if I'm really off-key and they throw vegetables at me! That'd be wasting food—
[ He's not even sure why he's nervous about it. It's rare to see a busker in any bar in No Man's Land who can hold a tune for more than a couple heartbeats, and Vash is... pretty sure he can do that. Maybe it's because it's Wolfwood, and this little fantasy of his has spun out of control into a memory he dearly wishes he could make and cherish.
He's thinking wistful thoughts, he realizes, and that's never good, so he pops the candy back in his mouth and reaches all the way across Wolfwood, grabbing for the moonshine. ]
C'mon, gimme the bottle, I'm not drunk enough for singing yet.
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[ He wrinkles his nose, thinking of that. ] You ever smelled the feet of one of these ruffians after they've walked around an entire day? Disgusting. We'd have to kick 'em out for that, so we gotta make sure you can sing.
[ As Vash reaches across, Wolfwood grabs the bottle, raising it over head. Despite that, he's careful not to jostle Vash too much, too comfortable, enjoying this far too much. That's dangerous territory, and Wolfwood knows it, but he's too tipsy to care. ]
You think being drunk's gonna improve your singing?
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[ Not to be deterred, Vash gets his knees under him and slings both arms around Wolfwood's neck, leaning heavily on him. He summons up his best, most pitiful pout, lower lip protruding, lashes fluttering over the biggest, saddest puppy eyes he's sure he's ever made in his life. ]
Wolfwood, [ he says, and it's not as sweet as he'd like it to sound, not with a hand slowly creeping up Wolfwood's arm, trying to snatch his prize down from on high. ] gimme the bottle. Please?
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He's a strong, stoic guy. He can resist the puppy eyes. Mostly. Somewhat. A little.
Goddamnit, Vash— ]
What are you gonna do with the bottle, Blondie? You've still got a drink, don't you?
[ He's not sure, honestly. Not even sure what's left in his glass. His fingers tighten around the bottle, but there's only so far he can stretch without completely dislodging Vash. ]
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Except he does. It's just got nothing to do with the bottle.
Seized by a fit of impulse, Vash makes a decision, tipping back the glass and downing the rest of his drink in one swift motion. ]
Sure don't.
[ He spits what's left of his sucker into the empty glass.
Then he leans in and kisses Wolfwood, just as fast as knocking back another shot of liquor.
He's not thinking too hard about it. It just seemed like the right move in the moment, and the way Wolfwood's lips are warm and chapped against his own—well, he's certainly not second-guessing himself now. Besides...
His hand creeps up Wolfwood's wrist and seizes the neck of the bottle, finally in reach to tug it from his grasp.
He makes a noise against Wolfwood's mouth that might be a ha! but he doesn't seem in a hurry to get away with his prize just yet. ]