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"Needle-noggin."
"Yeah?"
"How the hell did we agree on this to begin with?"
"Uhm... let me recall; Angelina broke down, the nearest town is at least a hundred and a half iles away, and I'm pretty sure we don't have the supplies to last a few days if we w-"
"God- yeah, yeah. Got it. But seriously? This, of all things?"
Such was the conversation that transpired as the two stood before a barn, Toma freely roaming around its premises. Unpainted walls further weathered by unpredictable yet frequent sandy winds added on to the impression that it'd be a rather poorly upkept place, but the Toma roaming about with minimal to no sign of distress proved otherwise.
The undertaker would look about, noticing a smaller pen nearby that housed roughly a dozen Toma chicks. The next thing he knows, he's placing down the Punisher with a rare gentleness even he hadn't known of - was he afraid of scaring the chicks if he simply let the Punisher slam onto the ground as he had always done?
The squats down, hands hovering right over the pen, not knowing what to do next. Nostalgia has part of him wanting to carefully hold a Toma chick in his hand as he had once done, but held back nonetheless. It's almost as though he sees vermilion stains stretch across his hands, sparing not even a patch of skin. He doesn't feel the usual stickiness of blood drying on his hands, but it lingers there, a permanent reminder of what he's done and would only ever be made to do.
"Ah, Wolfwood! There you are! For someone who's always mad at me for wandering off, seems like you're prone to doing the same too!"
The cloud amidst the undertaker's thoughts had dissipates as he finds that very same shade of blue that hangs above the two looking at him through sunset tinted lenses. He flinches, bringing his hands back and placing them on his knees.
"Oh, Toma chicks? I never really took you for someone who's into animals."
Vash squats down right next to Wolfwood, the undertaker rolling his eyes with feigned offense at the comment.
"Hah, and I wouldn't have taken you for a gunslinger if I didn't see you in action myself."
"Pshhh, I said so before, didn't I? I'm not much of a fighter myself. I only fight, for love-"
"-And peace!"
The two chuckle at Wolfwood finishing off Vash's trademark phrase who's probably heard him say it at least four times now. The chuckling trails off, as Wolfwood looks back at the Toma chicks. One of the chicks looks right at Wolfwood before cheeping, hopping away to join its siblings eating from a feeder tray nearby.
"The orphanage used to have a little pen like this."
"Hm?"
"Yeah. We'd help take care of the chicks and after they grew up, the Toma were sold to whoever was interested in getting one of them - was a good way to earn some extra double dollars, teached us kids a thing or two about responsibly too. Only problem was that we'd get just a little too attached to the critters. Especially... Crybaby Livio."
"Wolfwood..."
"Alright, Needle-noggin. Stop lookin' at me with those eyes of yours. I know you're another word away from apologising like it's your fault again. You were looking for me just a while ago, got something you need to tell?"
He catches the ghost of a smile as quickly as it fades from Wolfwood's expression, and the way the taste of guilt is bitter on his tongue. Doesn't make it any better that just as Wolfwood said, he would've started going on and on, muttering an endless chain of "sorry"s, as if he was really responsible for Wolfwood and Livio being turned into living weapons just to do the Eye of Michael's bidding.
"I- It's, yeah, I managed to get us two Toma to ride to town, and from the looks of it, we should be able to get there in around two days."
The blonde forces another one of his gentle grins, hoping Wolfwood wouldn't catch on and berate him some more for it.
The undertaker raises an eyebrow in what seems to be acknowledgement before getting up from where he was squatting, Vash following suit. He picks up the Punisher by the strap, slinging it across his shoulder as he always did.
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He watches as the blonde places himself on one of the two Toma's saddles with graceful ease, glancing back at his own. Hesitation brews as he replays how Vash had mounted his Toma, trying to hopefully get even a vague idea of how to do the same.
"What's the holdup, Wolfwood?"
He snaps his head back in the direction of Vash's voice.
"Oh- yep, it's nothing, don't worry about me."
And with that, still holding onto the Punisher with a hand on the strap, he hastily clambers onto the back of his own Toma - a move that would cost him some of his dignity, he'd learn soon enough. Wolfwood's other free hand, now that he'd somewhat successfully mounted his Toma at the expense of messing up his already dishevelled clothes somewhat, grips at the reins. The Toma rises to its feet, and that's where it goes horribly wrong instantly.
"Alright, let's get goin- WAGH-"
The undertaker for one, had not accounted for a little something called gravity. With only one hand on the reins and another on a Punisher that weighed somewhere around a hundred pounds or so, it was relatively easy for the forces of nature (in a literal sense) to knock some sense into his own noggin by sending him off balance, and off the Toma as a cloud of sand rises where he falls flat.
"Wolfwood?!"
And the blonde certainly did not take well to seeing the plume of sand over where Wolfwood used to be, quickly getting his Toma to settle back down on the ground before disembarking, rushing over to where the other was.
The sand clears and Wolfwood's already sprung back up, sitting down on the sandy ground, grumbling and dusting sand off his clothes; some sand that had snuck its way into the underlayers of his clothes were really getting to him, especially since it'd be a two whole days before he would finally be free of the ever incessant sensation of sand rubbing against his skin, and there's even some in his hair, particularly standing out amidst the locks of black.
"You okay there, Wolfwood...?"
"..."
"...Never been better."
"Ahaha... at least you aren't hurt from the fall, are you?"
"Needle-noggin. I'm a man of the lord, but can you listen to my confession just this once?"
"Go ahead...?"
There's at least five seconds of silence between the two before Wolfwood makes his untimely confession, fingers raking through his hair in equal parts embarrassment from having to admit it and equal parts disgust from the sand stuck in his hair.
"...I don't know how to ride a Toma."
The undertaker swears he hears a snort, craning his neck to stare the blonde dead in the eyes.
"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to- at least that makes us even now? I can't drive Angelina, and you can't ride a Toma!"
Wolfwood scratches his head at Vash's comment.
"Well I'll be damned, Needle-noggin. You got me."
"Anyway, I suppose you could use a lesson or two?"
"Huh?"
"Y'know, me! I could show you the ropes!"
Vash simply beams at the thought of being able to teach Wolfwood one of the few things he's most skilled at, and it seems most of the prior embarrassment in Wolfwood has been erased just like that, he found it ever so endearing when Vash had anything he could talk about for hours if possible; he finds it hard sometimes to catch up to what Vash is talking about, but all those years of experiencing life on this shithole planet somehow still leaves the blonde with tales worth telling and facts worth spilling, something truly beautiful and precious.
"Y'know what? Sounds like a plan."
"Wait, actually?"
"Actually."
There's a sparkle in his eyes, and a smile - one that Wolfwood can never get enough of, a real smile. He helps himself to his feet before Vash can offer him a hand, tugging the Punisher to rest on his back once again, holding onto it by the strap.
"By the way, Wolfwood.."
"Mhm?"
"You're gonna have to take off the Punisher when you get on."
"Absolutely not."
"You're gonna fall over again!"
"Nuh-uh, no way."
Cue another five minutes of bickering and compromising before the two finally arrive at an agreement: Vash can tie the Punisher to the side of Wolfwood's Toma, which means he won't fall off as easily trying to hold onto the Punisher, and be able to properly hold the reins. This also meant that the Punisher was still within arm's reach if they were somehow ambushed, and they couldn't exactly afford to spend too long here, so it was a worthwhile compromise on Wolfwood's end too.
"Alright, so, let's start from the basics - mounting. First..."
Meticulously repeating every little detail so deeply ingrained in his mind ever since he's ever had the chance to approach Toma chicks; just like Wolfwood, Vash was initially tasked with helping to take care of the Toma chicks as well. Just because you're the only one who can speak to your interdimensional siblings and are capable of communicating everything they say to people who wouldn't understand otherwise, it doesn't mean you're exempt from doing other chores, only that you won't be required to do as many. Vash being Vash, he'd still go about seeking out chores to do. He simply felt more like a true member of Home, simply felt more... human.
"...And this is how you hold the reins, just-"
A gloved hand accidentally grazes over the back of the undertaker's calloused hands, proof of the work he does, a badge not even the serum nor the Eye of Michael can take away. The two flinch at the unexpected contact, Vash's face burning more than his sunburn-kissed cheeks and nose ever have with a hue of red that could compete with his own jacket, Wolfwood himself looking away from Vash's face as his cheeks run the slightest shade of red.
It's approximately three minutes of Vash trying to apologise for suddenly touching Wolfwood's hand like that before he can finally move on, and it certainly would've taken longer had Wolfwood not tried to stop him. And the undertaker's certainly found something new to tease Needle-noggin about in the future.
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The two are back inside the barn, Wolfwood sitting against the wall right next to the gate, completely out of it and drained, Vash kneeled next to him and apologetically plastering a square bandage or two over the undertaker's face.
Toma riding was a lot easier in theory tha in practice, Wolfwood had learned, and Vash forgotten. Even Meryl's driving was far steadier than riding on Toma-back, and besides, there was a roof over his head that he'd only occasionally hit his head into. With a Toma, you either stay on, or faceplant into the ground losing your balance, and the latter is sure to leave you with a graze or two.
"Needle-noggin..."
"?"
"Can we please. Never do this again."
"Aheh... If you can promise that Angelina will never break down ever again. And... sorry about this. Sorry about everything."
"There it is again. Damnit, Needle-noggin, you seriously need to stop apologising for every little thing."
"It's just... Brad would be a much better teacher than me at this... I'm no good a teacher at all."
"The old man? He'd hang my ass out to dry by now, you're far more patient, and that alone makes you a better teacher than him. So relax, Needle-noggin. It's like you said, you can't drive Angelina, and I can't ride a Toma. We're not s'posed to be perfect at everything, aren't we now?"
The blonde gingerly nods his head, downturned eyes still pensive and probably thinking up another thousand reasons to doubt himself.
"And besides, I think I'm thiiiis close to, well, not falling off again. So you're doing pretty damn well for a guy who's only spent one day teachin' the ropes."
The blonde gently presses down another bandage over Wolfwood's cheek before he falls silent and sits back down, cracking the tiniest grin of achievement and gratitude. The undertaker too, feels an upward tilt at the edges of his own lips.
"One more try?"
"As many tries as it takes from the planet's best teacher."
"Agh, stop, you're flattering me!"
Vash breaks into a full giggle, shielding his now crimson face with the collar of his jacket. And to be honest, he was doing a rather bad job, especially when his coat's just a darker tinge away from being the same colour as his face right now, and for the second time today.
Wolfwood had finally landed a bullseye on one of his predictions for today - another try had finally given him enough stability to not plunge headfirst into the sand below their feet, but perhaps Toma riding was still going to be something he couldn't see himself doing for quite some time.
Unless Vash feels like he's in the mood for a race that he always ends up winning in the end.
But hey, all's fair in Toma racing.