DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.
You would think a man who had been in an explosion would take some time off, but this Winchester pest was bound and determined to be the world's biggest pain in the neck. Man must be made of rubber, coming out of that last scrape with no serious injuries.
He was currently skulking outside of the hotel, clearly waiting for Vash to leave. This was annoying, as Vash had a new approach to getting hired he wanted to try out; most certainly, Winchester was once again itching to try his luck.
There were ways to avoid him, Vash was sure. But being honest with himself, it just felt rude to deny someone so committed yet another try. Hell, if there were a way to do it that didn't involve him getting shot, Vash might even eventually feel sorry enough for the poor guy to let him win.
Avoiding directly approaching it, Vash came at the window in his room from an angle once more, sneaking a surveillance peek. Winchester was still there. Didn't have his gun on, though. It seemed like he was waiting to try to convince Vash to fight him hand-to-hand. At least, that was in line with his style; everything so far had been all about proving himself the better of the two – better what, Vash could never quite figure out with these would-be tough guys – and lacked the kind of win-at-all-costs willingness to employ a pack mentality to taking someone down.
Well, it was lunch time. Getting almost late for Vash to really give his new approach its best shot. Maybe it would be ok to set aside the efficient solution for some fun. He went down and gave the clerk a food order to place for him, mildly amused by the man's increasingly horrified expression in response to each item Vash requested.
Half an hour later, the food had arrived. In a light hope he wouldn't have to eat it, Vash checked the window once more. However, Winchester was still waiting, and so there was only one thing left to do. Vash put his mind to more pleasant thoughts and wolfed down the meal, waiting a few minutes afterward to really let it take full effect before heading back down.
No sooner was he outside than Winchester approached to challenge him. "Enough play!" the outlaw pronounced, as if he'd been anything but serious this whole time. "Now we settle this like men, if you have the guts!"
Vash shrugged casually. "I'm game. But you'll have to wait for me to –"
"Oh, no you don't!" Winchester neatly took Vash's bait. "We do this here and now, so put 'em up!"
Vash acquiesced, wordlessly assuming a fighting stance. He let Winchester advance, backpedaling and weaving to let the initial jabs sail past his head. Deflected a strike off his shoulder as he wheeled around.
"Stop bouncing around, you're not a flea!" Winchester yelled. "Stand and fight close and take your loss like you have some guts!"
That was what Vash had been waiting for, the outlaw to lose his cool and strive to get in close. Winchester had chased, now it was time to be caught.
Vash stopped his defensive movements and opened his guard, exposing his torso. Winchester moved in, ready to start landing – only to be caught in Vash's clinch, arms squeezing tight around him more like an inescapable bear hug than a clinch, pinning Winchester's arms at his sides as Vash clasped his hands together securely behind Winchester.
The outlaw struggled at first. Then began to struggle even more as Vash put his face in close.
"What's the matter, mate?" Vash asked, breathing each syllable extra-hard at Winchester's nose level.
The outlaw's face contorted at what he was smelling, head turning to try to breathe anything but the foul air coming from Vash. "What the hell have you been eating?" he gasped.
Vash's grin was almost evil. "Just some liver and old tuna with garlic and onions and some nice limburger. Now come on, mate, you wanted to fight, work your way out. You look a little tired, just take a nice deep breath in and out, like this…" He let his breath out all the way, so close to Winchester that the only place for the noxious odors to go was all the way into the man's nostrils.
Winchester turned a shade of green and went limp, almost the only immediate way to escape Vash's tight clinch, and scurried as quickly as he could away from his opponent's miasma.
It was all Vash could do to keep from laughing long and hard as he returned to his room to brush his teeth with plenty of mouthwash.