I looked at Knives curiously as he sat down in his chair again. He ran his fingers through his hair carelessly, and it fell back into its original state of sloppy perfection afterwards. Knives leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Lady?" He opened one.

"You don't think she's a lady, Vash?"

"I—I do," I stammered, "but—?"

"But what, Vash? You obviously don't seem to care for her." Knives closed his eye once again and smiled. "She sure is pretty." I felt my face grow hot, and my ears began to tingle.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't get me wrong, she is pathetic. You know, being human and everything."

"But—?"

"But she's of a different class than the rest of those pests," Knives continued. "She's special." I narrowed my eyes.

"Leave Meryl alone."

"Why should I?" he asked, opening his eyes to look at me inquisitively. I remained silent. "Why should I pretend to ignore her just because you do?"

"You don't love her."

"What makes you say that, Vash? Why shouldn't I?" Then, lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, "I do love her."

"No you don't!" I yelled, clutching the icy handle of my gun. Wrath surged through my right arm, causing my hand to twitch violently. Knives looked at me with concern.

"Can't you recognize love when you see it?" I glared at him. "I tried letting you have her, since you're so obviously her first choice."

"What do you want with her?" Knives gestured carelessly, as if to give in.

"But, since you so obviously don't share her emotions—."

"No!" I found myself pressing my gun against his head. Knives' eyes filled with compassion.

"Don't hate me for loving her, Vash." I gritted my teeth, but loosened the pressure my finger had been applying to the trigger.

"You don't," I growled, pulling the gun away from his head and pushing it angrily into its holster. I walked toward the front door and opened it. I paused in the doorway. "You don't know how to love."

"Can you be sure?" I slammed the door to these words, though they rang loudly through my ears. I was sure, but I didn't know if I was right.

"Damn him," I grumbled as I fell down into the rocking chair on the porch. I stared up at my moon. "And damn me, too."