Trap
"Hey, Vash."He calls my name like it's no big deal, and it's not; I don't see what's so special about it, because it's just another name. But he's so careless with it, like it means nothing... nothing at all. I think I might like that about him, that he doesn't readily take things at face value.
"Yeah?" I throw back my response just as carelessly, not worrying at the moment where this conversation is going, or what it might be about. I'd like to go ahead and think that things are nice and calm, with the breeze blowing through the window of this room. I don't want to think that something might come of this, that our words may be important.
"Doing anything?"
Hmm, just thinking away my time, that's all, you know. I often ponder the great mysteries of life myself, how about you?
"No, not really."
"Ah." So noncommital. I rather like that too. But I like a lot of things.
A silence comes as he sits down across from me. He begins to smoke a cigarette, but I don't mind. Sure, it's his slow death, but it's his choice. We don't look at each other in this silence; instead, we stare at the ceiling, or the wall, or the window with that breeze that feels good running across the skin and clothes. Maybe he likes this too, just sitting. No words. No big deal.
He takes a drag, then says, "What do you think of yourself, Vash?"
I suppose I saw something like this coming, but in truth, I probably didn't. Maybe I was hoping for run-of-the-mill topics like the insurance girls, or the weather, or when the next life-or-death situation was going to occur. But typical this isn't; but typical this is.
"I... I'm not sure what you mean, Wolfwood..."
He stares me down with blue-gray eyes through a wisp of smoke. "You know what I mean. I want to know what you think of yourself. Why you do what you do. Why you can't kill those that kill others. Or won't kill."
I don't answer; I look back at him, hoping my lack of response will make him drop the conversation and move on. I shouldn't say nothing, but I don't know what to say. Why don't I know what to say now?
His expression, as serious as they come, breaks apart suddenly, and he begins to laugh. I'm speechless for a better reason in that I don't know what to make of his laughter. It sounds nice, I think.
"You're a liar, Vash. You like me."
"What?" I have to say something. "How do you get that out of--?"
He smiles. Oh, he smiles. "I didn't, really. But... your reaction. It gave it away. You fell into my trap."
Trap? My reaction? What is he talking about here?
"Why don't you try and explain it then?" I want to get angry, I want to go ballistic...
He laughs some more. "Okay, okay. I'm the liar. I was just kidding, Vash, really. So you can forget about what I said. Okay?" He looks amused, but something's not quite right.
I wonder...
He sits back in his chair and gazes at the table. "Ne, Vash... I'm not much of a flirt, I guess. But you knew that, right?" And without looking at me, he leaves.
I sit back in my chair too, and gaze at the table. I guess my reaction did give it away. I think I fell into his trap.