Ending 3
…Meryl standing over him with a worried look. She smiled and lifted the rebellious pan back onto the rack from whence it had fallen. Then she turned and held out a gentle, flour-stained hand to the stunned outlaw. The room threatened to spin out of control as Vash rose to the barstool. He plopped both elbows down and tried to support his head in his hands. His goofy, admiring grinned tried to find its way to both the glorious breakfast and the petite girl looking eagerly for his approval, but alas, his force was spent. Plop! Another unconscious gunman now settled in a toppled mass of pancakes. It was too much: the dizziness caused by two falls, the surprise of actual breakfast, and the touch of the woman he loved. Had Vash been awake, he would've only lasted a scarce second longer in that state, for Meryl, angered at his destruction of her creation, had recaptured her once-elusive frying pan and most mercilessly set about introducing it to the blonde, syrup-covered head of the man she loved back.