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The door of the van slams so loudly it rattles.
In the backseat, Wolfwood and Vash both flinch at the same time. It’s almost funny. Almost.
“Are you happy now?” Meryl asks, when they join her in the sand. “We found out what was going on. Saved the day!”
Wolfwood opens his mouth, but Meryl holds up a finger.
“Don’t try it, you encourage him and you know it.”
Vash frowns. In this particular skirmish, like most of the ones that have come before, Wolfwood was entirely on the side of getting the hell out of dodge. He hadn’t been encouraging anything.
Apparently thinking the same thing, Wolfwood plants his hands on his hips and scowls. “It’s not my fault he doesn’t listen to me! That’s not the same thing as egging him on!”
Meryl stomps her foot in frustration. “If he didn’t have your firepower, he wouldn’t be so damn confident.”
The silence is so loud it rings.
Vash’s stomach drops.
“I—” Wolfwood starts. He shuts his mouth, swallows. He glances at Vash, like he’s hoping that he’ll deny it, but the panicky glint in his eyes makes it obvious that he knows Vash can’t.
Vash has all but told him as much — the things he can do with Wolfwood’s backup, his support, his firepower, far outreach what he could do alone.
Sometimes it goes well.
Sometimes, things turn out like this.
Meryl opens her mouth, maybe to take it back, but Wolfwood’s face has already shuttered.
“I’ll restock everything,” he says, woodenly, then turns on his heel and strides off, shoulders hunched.
“Undertaker—” Meryl calls after him, but Wolfwood doesn’t look back. “ Damn it.”
She starts forward after him, but Vash, ears ringing, watches himself move, stopping her with an outstretched arm. “Let him cool off. It’s not worth arguing about anymore.”
Meryl takes a breath, then lets it out in a huff, defeated. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t deserve your apologies, he does, Vash doesn’t say. That would just make all this worse.
He just watches Wolfwood walk away, shoulders slumped in defeat.