[Ain's response, or lack thereof at first, is a touch worrying. Did he upset him? Vash doesn't know...but he's afraid to press, so he lets the silence lapse between them as he looks over the photos on his desk, of which there are a surprising amount. Ain...really had a lot of friends, didn't he? Each one of them unique in their own way, and every single one of them a Pet, except perhaps for Eve depending on how you'd classify her. It reminds Vash of his room back "Home" on ship three, where he'd taped pictures of himself with the other members of the crew as he grew up. He only had one picture from his time with Rem and Nai, which he'd kept in the center of it all, frayed and burnt on the edges from the explosion.
He hadn't brought it with him. It's still back there...he hopes.
He smiles a little to himself as he looks at Ain over the years, wondering how much he's changed since the teenager with folded arms in the pictures. It seems like he'd grown into the personality Vash knows him to have today, no doubt in no small part thanks to these people he knew.
Vash's head lifts, turning back to look at Ain as he gives him that one-word apology. More silence follows, with Vash tightening both hands into loose fists.
He gets up after a moment, stepping over to sit on the edge of Ain's bed, his weight depressing the mattress. After a tentative few seconds of thinking it over, he reaches out his good hand and brushes Ain's hair off his clammy forehead.]
...I'm sorry. I know you were just trying to keep me from worrying. I just...
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He hadn't brought it with him. It's still back there...he hopes.
He smiles a little to himself as he looks at Ain over the years, wondering how much he's changed since the teenager with folded arms in the pictures. It seems like he'd grown into the personality Vash knows him to have today, no doubt in no small part thanks to these people he knew.
Vash's head lifts, turning back to look at Ain as he gives him that one-word apology. More silence follows, with Vash tightening both hands into loose fists.
He gets up after a moment, stepping over to sit on the edge of Ain's bed, his weight depressing the mattress. After a tentative few seconds of thinking it over, he reaches out his good hand and brushes Ain's hair off his clammy forehead.]
...I'm sorry. I know you were just trying to keep me from worrying. I just...
[...]
I can't have anything happen to you. I can't.