Vash and Meryl ran as fast as they could to Knives's room, Vash ahead of Meryl marginally. His arm shot out and busted the door open, though there had been no real need; the door was already ajar, and now reverberated from the consequential run-in with the wall. He skid to a halt just beyond the door frame and looked around, Meryl coming up behind him. To his right was Milly, stiff as a board, against the wall, trying not to appear as startled and frightened as she was. On the floor beside her was broken glass and a puddle of water. To his left was Knives, sitting on the bed, panting, facing Milly and scowling. He had been resigned to slouch against the wall, but he still managed to convey a rather icy glare, for all his ruffled appearance. Indeed, he looked like an ornery bear who'd just been disturbed in the middle of winter hibernation.
"What," Knives growled, taking the tone of said bear, "is the meaning of this?"
Vash almost laughed, but he liked breathing. "I could ask you the same question."
His twin turned his blue gaze on him. "I wake up in a strange room, in a strange bed, in strange clothes, and with this... human, hovering over me, dressing my wounds, and then trying to shove water down my throat like a mother spoon-feeding a baby." He growled again. "I'll not have this whelp attend me further, Vash, and that is final! Do you hear me? I don't want either of your bitches near me!"
Milly gulped, visibly shaken, though no wanting to feel so afraid. Meryl, in turn, growled back, and was most likely preparing to give Knives her own tongue-lashing when Vash spoke up.
"Leave us." His voice was cold and brooked no argument; Milly scrambled out of the room, pulling Meryl along with her. Vash turned to close the door, and stopped. Meryl stood just outside, gazing up at him intensely and without fear. She knew that he had to take a hard stance with his brother, and expected nothing less; still, she wanted him to remember that she would support him through this difficult time, whatever way he needed. With that in mind, he stooped down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Her eyes widened, and a blush rose upon her face, but she took it in stride. With a nod of her head, and a flash of a smile, she whirled and marched down the hallway, towing a gaping Milly along. Vash caught the taller of the two exclaiming, "Senpai!" as he closed the door, then turned.
Now he stood alone with Knives, and fought down the urge to inflict his brother with a sever case of verbal abuse. But he had little chance for much, for as soon as he traded stony stares with the other, a low bubbling chuckle escaped Knives's lips, the corners of which curving upwards into a devilish smirk.
"So that's the one. I should have suspected. After all, she looks so much like--"
"Don't you dare say it!" Vash grated, the threat to wreak havoc crossing his face. He gritted his teeth, but said no more.
Knives laughed again. "Why so fierce, brother? No need to be protective." His features smoothed and he waves a dismissive hand. "I'm no concerned with your wench; I want to know what you intend to do now, Vash."
He ran his cool, calculating gaze over Vash, who almost shivered at the way he felt himself being measured and weighed. "Surely the people in whatever town we're now in know that Vash the Stampede is here, brother." Knives snickered. "'The Stampede.' That's truly funny. Whoever thought up such a nickname? Or did you give yourself that?" He tilted his head, his teeth glinting straight and white from behind his smile.
"Even if they do, you still need to heal," Vash said, although he noted that Knives wouldn't be able to sit up if his injuries were aggravating him that much.
But Knives snorted. "I'm not human, you know, and not like you. I don't let my body become festered with scars," he sneered. Yet a thin sheen of sweat covered his face. Vash wondered to the extent of his brother's capacity for pain. He knew that when he first shot Knives so many years ago, the pain had to have been quite a new experience; Knives had never take on so much suffering at once, and it had shocked him at first. And certainly anyone would be at least taken back by five bullet wounds at one time. But Vash also knew that Knives would never allow his body to scar, and would use all his strength to regenerate and remedy the damage done. Perhaps that lack of energy, and the alarm of seeing Milly there, was why he looked ill now.
Something didn't quite fit, though... But the prickling of thought vanished when Knives groaned and slumped further against the wall. Vash, being the caring person he was, helped his brother to lay down properly.
Knives glared at him, wild-eyed. "You should leave them. Or kill them. They'll keep poisoning you, Vash! I'm the only one that can cleanse you of it..."
Obviously exhausted, he tapered off. All Vash said in response was, "I'll check up on you later. Just get some sleep now."
He left Knives laying back down, staring at the closed door. Knives hated having to rely on his brother, but a part of him enjoyed the attention he was getting. It was something, he admitted...
But he squeezed his eyes shut; he could not be weak, not for a second. Not even for Vash... because Vash needed him. Yes. Knives had to take care to rest, for it was too soon to act. If he tried something in his limited state now, he'd not get very far. Even lashing out at that big girl took no small effort.
But that other girl bothered him as well. She looked too much like that other wench of his, the one he was so enthralled with.
The one in his dreams.
His or yours?
Knives drew in a ragged breath, then whispered, "I don't dream."
But as he couldn't wall off his mind for sleep, he was forced to slumber again without protection from dreams.
