nickotine | .OPEN POST.

( from here. )

( he can handle your broody; he'll either knock it out of you with a thump to your forehead or act in entire opposition to his character to snap you out of it. it might not have happened yet, but narration is sure it will sooner rather than later.

sure did open yourself up for suspicion with that comment, tongari. and it's easy enough to hear anything from anyone these days, but since it's this guy we're talking about here. )

heard that, did you?
that is pretty interesting
where'd you hear it?

They don't get very many moments like this, when their shared space is just theirs without anything else in the way, Vash warm and soft and sweet and pliant in his lap. His own personal miniature sun, a light so bright that he doesn't pause to think for a moment how dark the shadows behind him must be, because it doesn't matter. Not when Vash smiles at him, not when he kisses him like he's something to be treasured instead of something better left behind and scavenged.

It makes his heart break for what still lies ahead in their future, in his future, but like this he can pretend. Pretend that he's the good guy the other thinks he is, and not working for the other side.

He sighs into another kiss, though it's really more of a rumble than anything else, one hand threading long fingers through messy blond hair while the other traces circles over the rise of a hipbone beneath the hem of his shirt. When he pulls back, there's a soft look of awe etched clear into every line of his expression as there always is when he looks at him directly. It doesn't hurt to stare into the sun, much as everyone likes to think it does. Not this one.

"You're too pretty for your own damn good, you know that?"

( there aren't very many days in which they find themselves twiddling their thumbs; their resident overload — master knives, as conrad keeps reminding them — always has something for them to do, somewhere for them to go. do whatever needs doing and don't ask any questions, never ask any questions, because that ain't exactly conducive to a good time, is it?

that last bit had been something that bluesummers guy had said … something he's really, really fond of saying on the off-chance anyone looks like they're thinking of stepping out of line, and nicholas had done it once, yeah. he'd tried to cut and run and ended up right back where he started. with a few more broken bones than he'd started off with, but they'd healed all right, so he doesn't think about it. too much.

doesn't do him any good one way or another, anyway.

but having time to twiddle his thumbs ( and chainsmoke ) means that he has a chance to really take in their newest recruit; he hasn't said much since they first brought him in, but nicholas has always been on the quiet side himself, preferring to observe instead of engage. you learn more that way, yeah? you pick up on all the little nuances you might miss when someone is talking and you're paying attention to their words instead of how their eyes move. if their nostrils flare. if they talk with their hands.

tells, all of them. he wonders if this guy has any. so far, the only thing he knows is his name, and it's something weird-sounding. toby — no, that ain't right — toji. fushiguro. like nothing he's ever heard in the whole of gunsmoke, but what can he say, because he hasn't been all the way around this damned desert planet, so there might be a whole host of weird names he hasn't heard of.

he leaves the cross punisher to lean against a far wall, where he can keep it in his periphery as he strolls in long-legged strides over to the other man, taking a drag on his cigarette and holding the smoke in his lungs for a second, then another, before letting it go. )

Hey there Tall, Dark and Silent. What d'ya think of the place so far?

.OPEN POST.

@dontdeserve;

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you'll never understand ( how beautiful you really are );

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@assassinsgreed ( welcome to the pack );

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