007↠ ACTION/VOICE (Forward-dated to tomorrow morning)

[concasse]

... Oi. Any of you New Feathers interested in cooking?

[This rather straight and subdued question comes from someone who hasn't looked at his journal in what feels like a long, long time, let alone felt the desire or necessity to make a public statement. And he knows it. The fact alone almost makes him break off before he finishes.]

I'm still down a few cooks at Seventh Heaven, so I'd appreciate any shitty help about now.

[But there, he's finished. After a moment's thought, he closes the journal and heads out for the day - to Seventh Heaven, of course, but only for a few hours, and then perhaps a walk later since it suits his fancy. There's plenty of thinking to be had no matter where he goes. And the entire time outdoors, he reminds himself that it's been chilly for a few weeks now, this isn't anything new.

He just... missed it happening.

The item shop, the clothing store, the forest, the bar... it doesn't really matter to him where he ends up. He's spent more than enough time to himself in the house, avoiding friend and acquaintance alike. Today will be spent remembering what feeling normal is like, and he's okay with searching a little to find out.]

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[goldenglasses]

[There's a familiar face at the bar. A familiar face, but not dress. Vash is at Good Spirits later in the night nursing a bottle of Wild Turkey, but his trademark red coat is gone.

Instead he's opted for a pair of brown slacks and a long button up shirt. His spiky hair a bit dropping, but he at least attempted to get it to stand up. A heavy brown coat is draped over the bar next to him with his journal open on top of it.

He's been listening for any signs of Amelia. Hoping she's alright out on her mission and doesn't bother looking up to see who is coming into the bar. Something he would have done at home, but it's been years now, and he's not a wanted man in Luceti. Old habits that he was forced to have to stay alive finally slowly slipping away.

Sanji is more than welcome to approach or ignore the gunman tonight. It doesn't look like Vash really came to the bar for good times and friends tonight either.]

[concasse]

[...]

Vash. [The casual way Sanji approaches and speaks the gunman's name masks the sudden sting of guilt in his gut, when he takes in that droopy, but still distinguishable hair.

You died again, didn't you? And he completely forgot that fact. But that's not really why Sanji feels guilty. Even now, standing beside him... it's hard to feel anything but a diminished sense of disquiet, just a tiny lingering of sorrow.

Time builds up resistance, staves off sorrow and rage. Vash has died too many times for him to muster up the usual amount of hurt he'd anticipate.

It's like Zoro's death ate it all this time]

[goldenglasses]

[Vash turns with a smile at Sanji. It's a smile out of habit, but he is always glad to his friend.]

Sanji. How are you doing?

[A small scar under his chin is new. The only real sign left from his death.]

[concasse]

[One hell of a loaded question, that. Sanji decides to skip over it with a brisk "Fine" and leave it at that - and he doesn't mention the scar.

Better not to discuss the draft in any capacity.]

Waiting for someone, or just having a few drinks?

[goldenglasses]

A few drinks. Thought Wolfwood and Milly might like a night alone just the two of them for a bit.

You?