Chapter 6

Jake sat back in his hotel room, poring over the day's events as he tossed a can of vanilla pudding in the trash. "Man," he said to the walls, "why can't I ever have a good day?"

A muffled voice outside fumed, "Oooh, I wish I could get my hands on the guy who bought up all the pudding!"

Jake looked at the spoon sticking out of his mouth.

"Ugh, let it go, Milly," complained another voice.

"Hey, it's the great big one and the little bitchy one," Jake said, taking his feet off of the table and grabbing another can of pudding.

Opening the door, Jake stepped out into the hallway. "Well, I'll be damned."

The two turned to look, Meryl with an expression of stark distrust, Milly with a warm smile as always. "Oh! Hello, Mr. Krieg," they said in unison, giving off two distinctly different impressions. Meryl walked on, but Milly stayed behind to chat. "I didn't expect to see you he-" Milly stopped mid word, as she noticed the object in Jake's hand, "Where did you get that?"

"Get what?" Jake replied, knowing full well, "Oh, the pudding? Just down the street, I think I got the last of it."

"You jerk!" Milly huffed, "what about other people who wanted some?"

Jake tried to turn a smirk into a frown, feigning hurt feelings, "Jerk? Well, I was going to offer you some, but now that you gone and said that…" He started to open the can.

Milly's eyes welled up and seemed to wobble in her head as she apologized on full auto. "Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry!"

Jake chuckled and tossed her the pudding, "Aw, I was just messin anyway. Gotta find your own spoon though, I only have the one."

Milly beamed, "Thanks, Mr. Krieg! Mr. Vash says you're no good, but anyone who likes pudding can't be all bad. In fact, I think pudding is one of the-"

"Vash around? I need to talk to him."

"Oh sure! I'll get him." Milly happily bounded away with her snack.

Jake stood in the well-maintained hotel hallway, leaning back against the wall as he thought about what to say. Should he tell him about his dream? Should he just tell him to fuck off? What made him say he wanted to talk to the humanoid typhoon anyway? Closing his eyes, Jake tilted his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Heard you got two more," a familiar voice scolded

"Then you heard wrong." Jake opened his eyes and saw Vash the Stampede standing in the hall, looking pissed in his trademark red coat and yellow shades. His arms were crossed, and his face bore a scowl.

"Oh, really?"

"Really really. Yes, one of them's mine, but the other was a teamkill. His boss shot him."

"Also heard you got two alive and saved a bunch of people," Vash continued, with a slight smile, "Was that part right?"

"Yeah, the Sherriff decided to suspend the manhunt because of it."

Vash gave one low, hollow laugh, "So you did it for your own good?"

"I did it because they were amateurs, it was easy to scare them into giving up."

"What about pros? They don't get the luxury?"

"Look, don't get all high and mighty with me, Mr. July AND Augusta," Jake was becoming irritated, "You're no angel yourself."

"I've made mistakes, yes, and I think about them every day. All I can do is try not to make the same mistakes again."

"God, you sound like a damn self-help book. It's not like I want to go around killing people, I have nightmares about it every time I fall asleep. Look at my eyes, do they look like the eyes of a man who's happy about his life? Night after night, I have the same dream. When I fell asleep today though, it was different. Almost… hopeful, but then tragic…"

"What do you mean?" Vash asked, then with a terrible Freud impression, "Tell me about zis dream."

"Forget it, its nothing. I just need to think about it, that's all."

"Well, at least you feel bad about it. That's more than some people. Come on, you look like you need a drink." Vash smiled and waved for Jake to come with him.

"You buying?"

"Sure, for myself."

"Ha."