[Vash visibly stiffens, and for a long moment he says nothing. He's sitting right now with his arms folded over his knees, hands hanging loose between them. His right hand is flesh and blood, while his left is that same prosthetic, a strange sort of metallic-blue that looks more sophisticated than something a pet classed as a stray could ever afford. Maybe it was from a previous owner?

And while it would make sense for him to respond negatively, or despondently...Vash actually laughs nervously. Sheepishly, even, as he tilts his head up a little.]

Ah...has that much time passed already?

[He thought he had at least the better part of the day left. Five hours, at the very least...

His feet shuffle for a moment, his ears swiveling back.]

I think if I wanted to die, I would have a long time ago. [He replies, matter-of-factly.] I'm usually pretty good at getting away...but this time I messed up.