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Summary
It was on a morning like that where Vash woke to the noise of birds chirping what he liked to imagine were little bird love songs to each other. The early morning sun drifted sleepily through the window, warm and sugar sweet.
It would be lovely, romantic, even, if this weren’t a dingy motel, with a cracked ceiling, and dusty floor. It would be romantic if they didn’t have to leave tomorrow, lest they avoid getting shot or hounded by bounty hunters.