( vash has always … been conflicted when it comes to sharing how he really feels about things, all things, because he'll always be honest when given the opportunity, but he also lives by way of deflection and lying by omission, and even if those are two sides to the same coin, it strikes him as a sort of double standard, and he's conflicted about that, too.
but where wolfwood is concerned, maybe it really is better that some things are left unsaid. he doesn't have a clue where the next day will find them, or the next, or the one after that —- and he's sure the other man doesn't, either.
( what's it like to be so naive, vash? and what has it ever done for you that hasn't ended in another wound, another scar, another chipped fragment from a broken heart? )
he ponders nicholas while he, in turn, ponders his proposal of a toast, thinking that they so rarely get to have even a moment's reprieve that it's nice to see him leaning even a little bit toward allowing himself to relax. not that vash is any better, of course not, he's the one that will run himself ragged on someone else's account before he even entertains the idea of thinking about himself, but. there may or may not be a couple of accusations of him being a hypocrite hidden somewhere in the deep pockets of his coat.
let that never go without saying.
he hums, and when a smile spreads across the line of his mouth again it's a little bit melancholy, but still genuine. he clinks their glasses together. ) I can drink to that, definitely.
To our tomorrows … and the hope that there'll be a lot of them. ( heh. see what i did there. you're welcome.
he takes a good, long swallow, empties the glass about halfway and sets it down, again absently licking the corner of his mouth to catch a stray droplet. he shivers lightly, but he always does when the burn is that good in the back of his throat. )
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yikes sorry for the late tagback, no hard feelings if it's been too long!
Date: 2023-08-09 05:20 pm (UTC)but where wolfwood is concerned, maybe it really is better that some things are left unsaid. he doesn't have a clue where the next day will find them, or the next, or the one after that —- and he's sure the other man doesn't, either.
( what's it like to be so naive, vash? and what has it ever done for you that hasn't ended in another wound, another scar, another chipped fragment from a broken heart? )
he ponders nicholas while he, in turn, ponders his proposal of a toast, thinking that they so rarely get to have even a moment's reprieve that it's nice to see him leaning even a little bit toward allowing himself to relax. not that vash is any better, of course not, he's the one that will run himself ragged on someone else's account before he even entertains the idea of thinking about himself, but. there may or may not be a couple of accusations of him being a hypocrite hidden somewhere in the deep pockets of his coat.
let that never go without saying.
he hums, and when a smile spreads across the line of his mouth again it's a little bit melancholy, but still genuine. he clinks their glasses together. ) I can drink to that, definitely.
To our tomorrows … and the hope that there'll be a lot of them. ( heh. see what i did there. you're welcome.
he takes a good, long swallow, empties the glass about halfway and sets it down, again absently licking the corner of his mouth to catch a stray droplet. he shivers lightly, but he always does when the burn is that good in the back of his throat. )