Jekkanadar trudged through the sands, the gritty air swirling around him, but not touching him. He had found a way to emit a strong enough energy to repel the annoying stings of sand grain 'pon his face. His eyes hadn't been disturbed, their icy blue hue hidden behind Vash's yellow sunglasses, which he had given to his nephew as a gift.

Pushing the glasses up with his finger, he stopped to get his bearings. Well, let's see… He was in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but sand in every direction. He had been expecting it, and wasn't the least bit perturbed.

He had a pretty accurate idea of where the next town was located, which was nearby, luckily. Nearby meant a few hours of running, but at least he still had plenty of energy to spare. He closed his eyes, reaching a hand into his black coat and pulling out a canteen. Shaking it slightly, he was rewarded with the quiet sloshing of water. Not much, though. He dumped the remaining contents into his mouth, returned the bottle to its original place, and hitched his backpack onto his shoulders in such a fashion that it wouldn't come loose. Jekkanadar took a deep breath, stretching his legs briefly and setting off in a jog.

The trot quickly escalated in a flat out sprint, Jekkanadar's legs merging into a blur as he picked up speed, spiked hair flattening against his head as a small smile flitted across his face.

After an hour or so of this, the town came into view, a steadily growing speck on the horizon. Jekkanadar slowed, breath coming out in harsh gasps, glasses slipping down his nose that was slick with sweat.

"Water…" He muttered, the pain in his throat searing at the mere prospect of the cool liquid. Long black coat drifting out behind him, he staggered into town, stepping towards the saloon.

Each hand resting on either side of the door, he pushed them open with both his hands and body, the scents of alcohol and cigarette smoke rushing out to meet him. Resisting the urge to cough, he walked over to the bar and slipped onto a stool, trench coat hanging over the sides. A barman, his hands filled with a towel and a dish stepped in front of him.

"What'll it be?" He asked gruffly, his hands continuing his cleaning as he spoke. Jekkanadar pushed his empty canteen before him; clearing his throat out before speaking, "Water for this, and a separate glass with ice."

It didn't take long for the clink of glass nor the slosh of his canteen to return, since water didn't take very long to prepare. Jekkanadar murmured his thanks, and then downed the water in one gulp, senses immediately clearing up.

"Ahh!" He sighed blissfully, grateful to be alive. Even in his current state, he barely flinched when the cold touch of a gun slid onto his head. Eyes closed, the only sign that he had noticed were his eyebrows, which were angled downwards and drawn together.

"Vash the Stampede. You don't know how long I've been waiting to do this."

The voice wasn't the low, gruff tone of a man, but the silky, calm voice of a woman's. He had to admit; the sound was rather pleasing to the ears.

"Ye-es?" He drawled, playing along even though the situation was far from an act. The gun dug into his head as the holder shoved it forwards, the frustration apparent in the action.

"Don't mock me, outlaw!" There was a pause, as though the woman was taking a moment to control her emotions. Then she continued, her voice as level as before but remaining fiery, "You are a strange one to laugh at the face of death."

Jekkanadar smiled, the edge of his lip curling and transforming the pleasantly amused expression to a smirk. His left hand, which was hidden within the folds of his coat, fingered his gun, his fingers tingling with anticipation. A rather wild feeling filled his senses, and his long legs straightened as he stood. He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, a sound that, strangely, made him subdue a chuckle.

In one fluid motion, he drew the large black gun from its holster and pointed it at his opponent, black coat swirling around his legs.

A girl stood before him, short black hair cut short and curled below her ears, violet eyes flashing under narrowed lids. She wore a low-cut shirt and shorts, showing her naturally tanned skin. In her hands was a grey pistol, both hands wrapped around the handle and obviously pointed towards him.

"Drop your gun!" She shouted, not paying their audience any heed. Jekkanadar grinned, spinning his gun around his finger and pointing it towards her once more.

"I don't think so."