[For a moment, Knives almost wonders if he'd talked sense into him. Then he says that, and he's quick to rip his wrists out of Vash's grip, as if recoiling in disgust.]
My killer doesn't get to lecture me on what I do with my life.
[ Oh. Like hitting the tail on a Prince Rupert's Drop, something breaks. ]
Yeah.
[ Vash doesn't say anything else. He turns, picks up the bag of feed and walks into the barn. Robotically, he cuts the bag open and lays a long line of feed into the central bin. He doesn't say anything; there are no more crocodile tears. ]
[Knives follows after him in silence, only to linger at the barn entrance like an unwelcome spirit. He seems like he's just observing at first, but soon Vash will hear the scrape of claws notching a deep groove into one of the doors. It will, he decides, serve as a reminder.]
We're going back. Until then, keep playing pretend all you like, Vash. It won't change the outcome.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
My killer doesn't get to lecture me on what I do with my life.
no subject
Yeah.
[ Vash doesn't say anything else. He turns, picks up the bag of feed and walks into the barn. Robotically, he cuts the bag open and lays a long line of feed into the central bin. He doesn't say anything; there are no more crocodile tears. ]
no subject
We're going back. Until then, keep playing pretend all you like, Vash. It won't change the outcome.