"Don't worry, Spikey," Wolfwood answered the outlaw's stricken face. "Get in there, get the job done, and then kiss her. It's the perfect opportunity." The Priest told him with confidence.
The man who had asked about a doctor had just spotted them in the hallway. His red tie and black hair made him look suave in his Sunday best. Vash's mind was so muddled that it took his subconscious a second glance to realize it was Meryl's friend, Shane.
"Wait, Wolfwood, I, I," Vash paused. "That doesn't sound very romantic," He ended.
"It doesn't matter. It's so late in the game already," Wolfwood said and began leading Vash towards the other man with yet another friendly push. "She'll be so impressed that you've saved someone's life that it doesn't have to be romantic."
"But Meryl has seen me save lots of people," Vash said. He wandered aimlessly towards Shane.
"Not like this- in front of all these important people," Wolfwood went on. "Just get that fire cooking inside of you, Spikey, and it will be easy. Go after what you want. Remember you're a man, Vash, not a little mama's boy. And when those insecurities enter that little spiky head of yours, tell them off- they have no right to be there. You deserve this. Go get her, Mr. Masculine."
With one last push, the gunman left the hands of the Priest and entered the grasp of Meryl's friend, Shane. Shane looked frightened and urgent. His once smiling face was disturbingly serious. His hands were shaking and his breath was rigid.
"I don't know exactly what happened. All I know is that one minute the guy was fine and the next he collapsed to the floor. Thank goodness Meryl brought you." He sounded dazed as he led Vash back into the large room.
Inside, the large mass of people were gathered together, facing the scene. Even the man who had been speaking just minutes before was white and worried. Vash united with the mass, wondering what had happened.
"Get out of the way, I've found a doctor!" Shane announced to the crowd.
Meryl, who was among the mass, shifted next to Millie. She tried to get a glimpse of Shane, but due to her short stature she only caught uncomfortable views of those close around her. Oh how she loathed being vertically challenged.
Then, Millie's words catapulted her stomach to the ends of the world.
"Oh wow, I didn't know Mr. Vash was a gunman and a doctor."
"What?!" Meryl blurted. Without another thought she pushed her way through a cluster of people until she caught sight of the blond outlaw. Vash looked alert, but completely uneducated. He hadn't been to a single day of schooling in his life. Yet here he was, waltzing around while Meryl had been broadcasting his false title. Why? Why can't anything go right when he's around? She thought desperately, with his terrible luck this whole crowd of people will be running around chaotically within the hour!
Vash was escorted sporadically to the corpse on the ground. The man possessed red hair, strong hands, and graying skin. In Vash's fearful mind, he appeared to have been declared dead hours ago.
He stepped closer to the fallen man with caution. His footsteps echoed in the ears of everyone who surrounded him. The silence was nerve racking. Admittedly, Vash was relieved when it was broken by Gabby, who had just begun to talk deafeningly.
Apart from Vash's urgent pace, it was an eternity before he reached the man. Meryl watched him along with everyone else. She had forced her way closer to the scene, a strand of angry words flowing through her mind. Would it be asking too much to have just one night- one moment- that was completely normal with the outlaw? Apparently.
Wolfwood stationed himself to next to Millie. The Priest was the only one in the room who looked rather pleased with the situation. A small smirk took over his lips, delivering him a few dirty glances. Jello would be served in just a few short minutes- assuming, of course, that Vash would actually apply Wolfwood's sermon. And if he didn't… well, the Priest would make sure that the short insurance girl was the least of his worries.
All at once a loud voice interrupted the Priest's pleasurable contemplation. Only several seconds later did he realize that the words were directed at him.
"Oh Taylor, I'm so glad you made it." The woman was the same one who had been talking to him earlier, the same one who could never stop talking even in the most serious (yet entertaining) of times.
"Oh hello, Ms. Gabby!" Millie chirped happily, accidentally elbowing a nearby stranger as she waved to the woman. "Isn't this whole event just awful?" She asked.
Wolfwood's mouth dropped. He stared between the two of them as the woman began exaggerated the horror of the situation with a sprinkle of glee.
"You know this woman?" The Priest asked Millie in shock.
"Oh yes, her name is Gabby and she recently discovered a great secret to doing laundry with starch. She's really quite nice. We met while you and Mr. Vash were busy in that janitor closet." Millie explained.
"We were having a man-to-man discussion," the Priest corrected with extra emphases.
"Well, she invited us to dinner after the reunion." Millie added.
Gabby continued talking, taking no notice of Wolfwood and Millie's listening skills.
"What?" The Priest sputtered. "You're telling me you can actually understand the sequence of words raging from her mouth?"
Millie laughed at Wolfwood, clearly she had taken his question as some kind of joke. "Of course I understand her, Mr. Priest!"
"I wasn't joking," Wolfwood mumbled as the large insurance girl was absorbed into Gabby's new subject of conversation. He tried feebly to keep up with their discussion (or more like Gabby's monologue) for several seconds, but gave up with a sigh.
He remembered reading in a magazine that women had to get something like 1.5 thousand words out in one day to feel self satisfied, but as he heard the words spewing from Gabby's mouth he concluded that some required close to 2.8 billion.
Then everything happened so fast. One second the Priest was standing next to the women and the next he was being shoved to the front by them. When caught off guard, the circumstance was hard to control. He bumped into several other bodies- all different shapes and sizes- stepped on three feet, and received a face full of long dark hair. Finally, he was steered out of the jungle of people and into a pleasant opening, and it would have remained in full tranquility if Wolfwood hadn't turned around.
Hunched and kneeling over a graying body was the cursed gunman. And at once Wolfwood's position hit him in the face like a scorching pan fresh off the stove. He whirled around to the girls, his mouth slightly hanging and his whole stature looking very clueless.
"Hey! What are you girls doing to me?" He asked. "I didn't ask for this!" He growled.
Gabby was giving him some sort of explanation but the only words he caught were priest, help, blessing, and something that sounded like rutabaga. Dumbfounded he looked to Millie for a translation.
"Go Mr. Wolfwood! Use those miracle working hands!" She cried out.
"Hey! Let's hear it for the man of the cloth!" The balding speaker said loudly.
A small handful of people participated in the cheer. The others were glancing darkly in the bald man's direction. His outburst of euphoria was not welcomed by the sticklers. After glaring at him they returned their stares to the corpse with concern.
Wolfwood's face fell as Millie's cheers finally died. A still silence took the room again. He stumbled to the outlaw.
"What's his condition?" he asked.
"I don't know, he's hardly breathing and is unresponsive." Vash mumbled, staring into the graying face of the corpse.
"Here, let me see," Wolfwood said, kneeling next the Vash. He pulled up his sleeves. The excess fabric cluttered his elbows. Solemnly, he took a deep breath, and began attacking the victim like a maniac. Grasping onto the man's shoulders, he began shaking him like a juice carton. Vash watched in horror until a note of suffocation left the lips of the unconscious followed by a sickening short inhalation. He, in return, attacked the Priest. Pulling the mad man away from the injured, he asked him what in love's name he was doing.
"You're killing him!" Vash exclaimed.
"Lighten up Spikey, he's just fine!"
Vash cautiously examined their patient. "Now he's not even breathing!"
"Well, I'm not the doctor. I'm just here to call upon the almighty for help." The Priest told him matter-of-factly.
"Go Priest!" Someone shouted. Suddenly, they both remembered how many people were around them.
"All those people," Vash whispered. "Are they expecting some kind of miracle?"
"A man of the cloth brings forth miracles." The Priest expressed a nervous smile and stepped back from the gunman.
"Ladies and Gentleman," he announced. "If we are to see anything come of this night we need faith! Faith in miracles! Faith in the Almighty!"
Vash felt anxiety begin to grow quickly in his stomach. This man could be dying. He wondered if the Priest meant anything that was falling from his lips or if he was just somehow playing pretend in desperation. The face Vash stared into was growing bluer. Whatever that forsaken Priest had done to him had only made his condition worse.
Once Wolfwood had effectively gotten the crowd to participate in some kind of chant he returned to Vash.
"Anything yet?" He asked Vash as if the outlaw was his employee.
Vash shook his head.
"What kind of doctor are you?" Wolfwood asked, beginning to sound nervous.
"You're the one who dragged me into this," Vash told him. Personally, he was glad to see that the Priest had been cornered into the circumstances. He deserved it, not only because he came uninvited, boasting his status, but because of everything that had happened since the night Vash had confessed so much of himself to the man.
"Is he… dead?" Wolfwood asked. He suddenly remembered that raising people from the dead had never been in his contract as a priest, and he sure as heck better not be expected to do it now.
"No, he has a pulse," Vash answered.
"That's it!" Wolfwood clapped his hands together. "CPR!"
"CPR?" Vash asked.
They stared at the graying face. An inanimate expression rested on its surface, and its gaunt color couldn't have clashed with his red hair any better.
"After you," Wolfwood said. He slapped Vash on the back and returned to the loud crowd.
Vash took a deep breath. If his actions would indeed save the life of this man, he would pursue them. He wouldn't be kissing the victim, just ensuring his life… but the presence of the Priest guaranteed that Vash would be taunted of the moment on a regular basis. A picture of the Priest laughing at Vash revoltingly entered his mind. The Priest's gigantic smirk nearly hid all other facial features. Vash could almost hear his laughter now.
"Vash!" Someone hissed.
The image disappeared.
The outlaw was pulled from his thoughts and looked up to find Meryl standing before him. He was unaware how long she had been there or how she had managed to push her way into the front row.
"Vash! He's choking! Give him the Heimlich!" She said urgently.
Quickly, Vash's mind analyzed the possibility and with his minor knowledge and faith in the small insurance girl's intellect he was ready to act.
Wolfwood glanced back at the outlaw, who was now standing up. Drats, that needle noggin still hasn't done a thing!
"Millie," he called out. "Hand me my confessional!"
"Right away, Mr. Priest." He heard her reply.
Within seconds the small building was twirling through the air. Wolfwood caught it before it could fall to its doom. With new energy he raised it above his head, in front of the crowd. His outstretched stature made the tiny structure look of great importance, and the lighting of the room shined magnificently on its miniature roof.
"Save this man by making a donation!" He cried out. "Do I see a few dollars? Put your faith into donations!"
Dozens of hands shot into the air, all clenching multiple dollar bills.
"Just put your money in here and not only will you be redeemed in the end, but you'll be accountable for working miracles by saving this man's life!"
With a gleam in his eye, Wolfwood handed the confessional to a desperate looking woman. "Pass it around to everyone, now. Don't let a single donation be skipped!" Containing the tiniest evidence of a smile, the Priest was just returning his attention to the uneducated outlaw when he had the strange sensation of being pushed out a window. The image was so unexpected and horrific that the Priest felt compelled to turn away, but was unable to divert his eyes. The outlaw had lost his mind. Having manned the victim, he was hitting the corpse hard in the upper gut. Mouth hanging open, Wolfwood was completely dumbfounded.
Suddenly, a gurgling sound escaped the man's lips and something warm and half digested shot out of his mouth like a bullet. With great agility, the object catapulted majestically through the air until- splat! It hit Wolfwood square in the face.
Vash felt the man slide through his arms and collapse on the floor, silent. For a fleeting moment the gunman felt pure satisfaction, but it disintegrated as his eyes stared at the man. He wasn't moving. Vash felt his stomach churn. Wondering if he had been too late, he took a hesitant step forward.
"You might still have to do CPR, Vash," he heard Meryl whisper behind him. He didn't take his eyes off the corpse.
Finally a gasp of air escaped the man's lips. Fresh oxygen filled his lungs and his chest began to rise and fall heavily. Feeling as if that man's first breath was his own, Vash inhaled a deep sense of relief, followed by elation.
Then a thought that had nothing to do with the man burned into Vash's mind. At once, he whirled around to Meryl, seized her jaw line, and kissed her.