Shuffle, shuffle.

Arms, like hungry serpents, explored their new home-crevice. Like an eel to a dim, wet cave, they slithered inside and felt around their surroundings. A bit heavy, true. Tad bit too big, also. Sizeable, very sizeable. Strange to the touch, like a dried up hide of some colossal creature. Truly? Many, many dried up hides of many, many slightly smaller creatures. Not the familiar mix of synthetic and organic fibers, none of that woolen softness. This one felt vile against his fingers - violent, itching to squeeze him dry. It had its positives too, though. Pockets out the wazoo, flaps dragging behind his legs, waterfalls of leather hugging his pants from all sides, shoulders hidden beneath a landslide of dead skin…

Andy put on his new coat. Here and there, it was still drenched in Henri's blood, but it didn't really matter. He gave it a thorough look from above, twirling in place to check every little piece of himself - the front, the back, the bottom, the top - all seemed strangely fine. Fitting, yet foreign. Too large, too small, absolutely perfect, all at the same time. His brain enjoyed the feeling of leather against his fuzzy little sweater, no matter how hard it suffocated his lungs. It was simply perfect.

"... How do I look?" He spun in place, before stretching his arms out in front of W. She sat by, atop the broken down tent of soft silks and linen that once stood on top of the sled - arms and legs crossed, lying comfortably on the bed of pricey materials.

"How do you look? Like a moron, the usual." Without much thought, she threw back.

"No, I mean- I mean, how's the coat? Not too big?"

"Eh…? I guess? You're small as hell, everything looks gigantic on you, anyway. I mean, really, but- but it's not bad. Looks decent." W shrugged a little. "You want a second opinion?"

"Yeah?" Andy waltzed over to the sled and climbed over a few barrels filled to the very brim with fresh, fruits glistening in the moonlight. W lazily rolled over to her back to face wherever he was looking - towards the front, where the sturdy, muscly hands of a red-headed merc were busy shuffling through piles of shiny loot and everyday appliances. "Hedley?"

"Hee-eeedley? Woo-hoo?" W chimed along, waving her hands up high in the air to gather the man's attention. His spiky ears perked barely, just a little twitch, as he cast his gaze towards the two morons sitting atop the loot pile he was so invested in.

"Mmm? What?"

"Does that coat look too big on Lawdog?" W asked, before lowering her arms back down and prepping her cheeks on her hands. Her legs mulled through the air, both swaying gently back and forth - up and down.

"...?" Andy joined in on the question with silence, instead taking a few wobbly steps next to her, and once again raising his arms up and wide open, as if to proudly showcase his newly acquired piece of fashion. Hoderer narrowed his ever so weary eyes, and took a step back to better examine the sight.

"I'm not… quite sure. Turn around?"

Andy did so, with the long, leather tails of his garment following suit. They swooshed through the chilly, night air, as he did a few careful spins.

"... Not really, no. Seems fine to me." He summed up, before casually returning to his looting endeavors, having already gathered a hefty pile of only the most pricey trinkets and pieces he could get his meaty fingers on.

"See? 'S what I'm saying. Looks good to me." W rolled to her back, before casting her gaze upwards, right at Andy's face. "I mean, y'know. Decent. As good as anything can look on you, which isn't really much." She added right after. Andy rolled his eyes and kicked her softly in the ribs.

At the sudden, offended "Ow!" she let out, Hedley shot them both a sidelong glance and spoke up, before W could retaliate by pulling the boy down to her level and smashing his face in. "... Are you two just gonna sit there the entire time? You could at least try to make yourselves useful, you know. Pretend to care."

"EXCUSE me?" W glared right back, with her antennae rising in a rather menacing manner, like a praying mantis' blades ready to strike. "After we went through ALL this bullshit to get here, you expect us to what, to get right back to work and help you sort shiny rocks and bracelets? Hell no. We're not slaves."

"Yeah, we're not slaves." Andy added right after, before falling to his knees next to the girl. She smirked a little brighter, hearing him taking her side. "We almost died, like… twice? Thrice?"

"Like four times, I'd say." W started counting each close call on her fingers. "Three… Four… Fi-... Five, maybe? Like, five times."

"Yeah, five times. Five times, that's at least four times too much for one day, don't you think?" Andy sang along to her tune. "I mean, c'mon. Get Ines to help, or something."

"Yeah, get your all-knowing mistress. we don't ever see you telling HER to get off her ass and actually do stuff around to help, do we?" With her elbow, she nudged Andy to agree. He nodded along.

"Uh-huh. We really don't."

"And we should. Right?" W climbed to her knees, before lazily resting her chin over Andy's leather-clad shoulder. He didn't seem bothered by the development in the slightest, even lowering his posture a little to allow her easier access to himself.

"Right. Absolutely." He nodded along, his gaze challenging and accusatory, all aimed at the poor redhead. Seeing these two morons piled atop one another, Hoederer could only sigh, with weariness permeating the breath that escaped his lips.

"She's a little busy wiping up the mess you've made, you know. Not the cleanest of works you've showcased back there, definitely not the prettiest."

"The hell is she cleaning that up for? Don't wanna cause a ruckus within the forest spirit community, or what?" W scoffed, perfectly content with using Andy as a little bipod for her head. He couldn't help but snortle at her words, as Hedley kept staring at the two without even the slightest hint of amusement.

"Pictures. Proof. We wanna get paid, we need proof of a contract fulfilled. Seeing how Andy… How shall I put it, REMOVED our main target's face from existence, we can't just snag one simple picture and call it a day." With a little sigh, some more wisdom followed. Andy and W (Still slung over his shoulder) kept staring and smirking, as always. "... So now we're inclined to do the whole song and dance of putting back together enough evidence to somehow make Rotbloke's skin-suits… Very funny." He had to pause for a moment, as both morons started snickering at the mention of their handler's very Victorian sounding name. "... To somehow make his skin-suits believe we did actually take the merchant's pulse."

"Yeah, 'ol pal Rot-blawk won't believe us bugga's managed to k-eel 'at 'orned piece a' shite on our own, aye?" W's perfectly butchered Victorian shined through once more. Andy soon followed suit.

"Naw, mate, need me a pic. Need me some baked beans n' grav-ey."

"'N some finballs wiff' chippies."

"'N a pint 'a lager."

"'Ave at it!"

"'Ave at it, mate."

Both fell into a snicker-filled fervor, leaving Hoederer staring up the mountain of shiny goodies, with the two most precious ones resting at the very top. With a shake of his weary head and an attempt at forcing his bruised self to keep digging through the pile, he decided to pay them no mind. W picked up the hint of his unwillingness to continue and decided to pester him some more.

"Besides, I don't see Ines putting together heads or taking pics. What is she even doing, w-...? Talking to the kid? Turn around, coz, look."

Three pairs of eyes honed in on the sight. Far away from the sled, away from the spilled blood and rotting corpses, between a few lonely sequoias, Ines sat on her knees, W's old camera in hand. All covered up and snugly wrapped in linen, next to her lay the bodies of Henri and Leni, hands joined together beneath the soft fabrics. With the curtains shielding the world from the sight of a marriage torn apart by death, they both seemed as nothing more but a natural part of the forest - a piece of their own resting place, engulfed by the organism to serve a purpose even from beyond the grave. By their side, Freddie sat and sniffled the night away. His sleeved hand kept wiping the never ending stream of tears and snot accumulating over his face, as he stared and stared, eyes emptily locked on the figures resting underneath the linen sheets. Ines kept him company, seemingly lost in her own trance. Staring right ahead, with both their gazes joined together into one, she offered a few handfuls of unheard words, uttered emotionlessly into the night. Andy could only sit and wonder what wisdoms she had to share, what could she possibly say to soothe the flames of hatred and grief that ravaged the kid's mind. Was it a rough scolding? He wouldn't put it past her, certainly not. She wasn't one to whimper and cry when things went south, neither one to offer condolences whenever a member of their war-band parted ways with life. Just a quick, strict reality check, then back to business. Whatever she was telling the kid, it had a strangely calming effect - numbing, detaching him from the reality of what had earlier conspired.

Hoederer let out a weary sigh, before digging back into the golden flesh, gorging on it like a starving hound. "... No clue what she's doing. More than you two combined, that's for damn sure."

"..."

Seeing him like that, both merc-morons exchanged a quick glance. Without a word, they hid their monochromatic heads back down into the softness of the once-makeshift-tent, now a makeshift bed for W to lounge upon. Lying side by side, they turned their attention far beyond Terra and gazed upon the starry, night sky.

"... Load of bullshit, ey?" W began, with her arms comfortably creating a little pillow behind her head, legs tucked and crossed. "I mean, in my honest opinion we should've just dropped the kid along with his parents."

"Didn't we agree on, uh… NOT doing just that?" Andy shot her a sidelong glance, her words still fresh in his fuzzy memories.

"Did we?" She turned to face him, before shrugging. "Might've. But I was in a different state of mind back then, anyway. Damn near almost died five times today, cut me some slack."

"Oh, I am cutting you slack. Just pointing out."

"Yeah, well. Stop pointing out, then."

"Sheesh. Rude." He blew a raspberry, before snuggling himself comfortably by the girl's side. The softness of the sheets behind their backs and heads nicely hugged them from all sides and offered a far more comfortable alternative to whatever the hell they found themselves sleeping at night in. Old bedrolls, beds without mattresses scattered around old hideouts, bunkers and hidey-holes alike, or even just the bare earth Mother Nature bequeathed to them all. This however, this felt like heaven - and the two morons could tell. It felt as if all their hurt and worries of the day were simply sliding clean off their bones and drenching the fabrics - like the softness of the silk was simply draining all their pain away. Andy couldn't help but smile - a genuine, wide smile - as the fabrics took good care of his creaky bones, and W's body right next to his offered a nice sense of warmth in the chilly night. She seemed to be sharing the sentiment, as she perked up and rolled over to face him, smiling just as wide.

"Yeah, rude. Speaking of rude, y'know what's rude? That you looted a sweet face-melter off that Leithanian bag of nothing, and still haven't shown me. C'mon, gimme. Lemme see."

"Oh. Oh!" He slapped himself on the forehead. "Yeah, I forgot. Too much happening."

"Yeah, whatever. Gimme." With her grabby hands, she started reaching for his waist. Andy slapped her sticky fingers away and threw apart his leather cloak, revealing a certain, strange mechanism residing underneath. Attached to his hip (or rather, his belt), a thin, metal stick slid along his leg, just barely reaching beneath his knee. A tiny circle of dark, burnt leather sat right by his waist, where the twin-barreled rifle now rested, stuck to his side like a crutch or splint, ready to be drawn from the hip at any time. He clumsily pulled it by the stock, fiddling along with the wood and fighting off W's excited hands.

"Ooo! Yeah, gimme that."

"Wait! Wait, I dunno where the safety is on this thing…"

"Safety? Lawdog, a great mind once said, "Safety, always off." I don't care if its on or not."

"But I do!" He creaked back, trying his desperate best to keep her finger off the trigger. "C-... Law, can you just let me- can you let me click the thing?!"

"Nuh-uh! Gimme!"

"Stoooop…"

"Give that thing, moron. Here." She snatched the gun away, and her eyes immediately lit the night up with their excited gleam. "Tch, tch, tch… What do we have here…"

Andy wanted to groan and try to reclaim his weapon, but at her genuine interest, a tiny switch flipped in his mind. A switch that immediately filled his brain with an urgent need to share every little detail he's gathered about the gun so far. "Oh, you know. Twelve gauge, fine rifling, notched finishes, some engravings… Customs irons, I'm pretty sure the trigger has also had some work done on it… The trigger guard's kinda weird to the touch… Oh, and the barrels have some bullshit, ancient passages on them." He spewed out in rapid succession, while pointing to each and every mentioned detail. "Here, see?"

"... Uh-huh." W slid her eyes along the barrel. Her antennae went limp right away at the sight of written words.

"... Got any idea what it means? I tried, but I dunno. Slips past me."

"Uuhh… huh? Nope, no idea." Without giving the words too much thought, she shrugged. "Probably some ancient curse, whatever."

"... But you barely even read it?"

"And?"

"Can you actually give it a go? I mean, maybe it's some Sarkaz folklore reference?"

"Lawdog, it's not. Trust m-"

"But you haven't even read the whole thing."

"I HAVE, and it's not-"

"You couldn't have."

"I have."

"You haven't."

"I have."

"Then what did it say? What does it say?"

"Wh-... What does it say?" Both antennae fluttered to the sides, irked by the request. "What does it say? Says right here, I'm not reading it to you."

"Yeah, cause you HAVEN'T READ IT."

"I HAVE! I have read it, but I'm not your slave to be doing whatever you say. Besides, why do you want me to read it aloud to you? What are you, five? Y'know what?" With a huff, W shoved the gun back into his hands, only adding more fuel to the already kindling confusion growing in Andy's head. "I don't want this anymore. You have fun with that, I don't like guns anyway. Toys for cowards. I mean, fits you, but not my cup of tea."

"..." A bit wide eyed, Andy let out a soft snortle, before sliding the rifle back into his makeshift holster beneath the leather. It fit like a charm, a chamber made for a king! Some giggles and whispers of grandeur seeped from the barrels like smoke, but he squashed them right away by throwing his coat's tail over them both. "Law, okay. Sensitive, much?"

"Don't push it." W barked back, a little moodier than before. Whatever threw her snark out the window, Andy did not know.

"... Don't push it, got it." He snickered to himself, before reaching into one of the many pockets of his newly acquired leather garb and producing a tiny, scratched shell. It was old, dusty and red all over, with the golden base barely even reflecting any of the twin moons' light. Andy twirled it around his fingers, holding them high above both their heads. With surprising dexterity and grace, the shell slid between his digits, disappearing into the hills of his pale skin, before reemerging once more to bathe in the moonlight. W watched the spectacle with a frown, but only at first. Moment by moment, twitch by twitch, some unseen power tugged at her lips to force a smirk back onto her face, as her curious eyes gleamed with orange in the dark. Her slitty, lizard-like pupils followed the shell wherever it went, never letting it leave her sight. After a good minute or so of this silent trance, she finally spoke up, much less frowny than before.

"... What else you got?"

"Hm?"

"What else have you found in that coat of yours? I mean, shotgun shells are cool, but what else?"

"Pfff… Old papers, some contracts… delivery details, blah, blah, blah. Found a book, too. "The Maple Meadows", something like th-..."

"Lawdog…" Her lids fell to cover half her eyes in a display of unamused annoyance.

"Okay, sheesh. Not a fan of reading?"

"No." Without wasting a breath, she stretched, before shuffling over, even closer to his side. "You checked these pockets yet?"

Her fingers ran over the sizable lump that stuck out from the mound of leather like a tumor. Andy promptly slapped her hand away.

"Uh-uh. No touchy."

"What?" Her eyes narrowed, amusingly confused. "Hell do you mean "no touchy?"

"I mean what I mean. No touchy, it's my coat."

Two smirks gleamed together in one another's reflection, as W reached for her ankle, and Andy for her hands. A playful giggle soon followed, like a blank handgun being fired at the beginning of a Lateran shooting championship - marking the start of their daily wrestling session.

W jumped on top, knife aimed at his heart. Andy messily latched onto her elbows, then slid his hands up her arms to somehow prevent the steel tooth from mauling his coat apart. Grins wide, giggles loud, a little scruffle to seal the deal of today was all they needed.

"No touchy" my ass, I'll rip that thing open if I want!" She threw between groans and clicks of her tongue, as Andy held tight to both her wrists and did his best to stop the tip of her knife from piercing his coat. Lost in the playful battle, he reached for her side and managed to just barely find an opening between her blood-soaked shirt and gut-covered pants. W squirmed and gasped at the sensation of his fingers slithering beneath her clothes - as they frolicked and freely cut a few rugs over her bruised and battered skin, she couldn't help but drop back down to her side and howl from the nonconsensual laughter that his hands had forced into her lungs. Andy did not stop his tickling assault, even after she had long let go of the knife and started pleading for her dear life - her laughter was like a soothing balm for his ears, a dose of fast burning ori-fuel that ignited some primal need deep inside his heart - the need for this gigglish devil to suffer for every and each time she shoved his head into a snow mound, or tripped him over with her tail. With both hands, ten fingers roaming freely, prowling over her exposed tummy, Andy chuckled along to the chorus of pain and pleas, unrelenting in his victorious assault.

"F-... Fuh…FUCK! OKAY! J-... BWAHAHA I GIVE UP, I G-... HA… I GIVE UP!"

Whatever words she threw into the chilly breeze disappeared as quick as they had left her throat - buried beneath the overwhelming weight of the soft silks fluttering and ruffling beneath her squirming body, as well as the cacophony of choked back sobs and cackles. She sounded a little like a sea-fowl gurgling on a particularly spikey fishbone, with all its annoying spine-needles irritating the throat. Andy refused to let go, taking great pleasure in seeing her squirm around and desperately try to shove his hands away, only for his fingers to somehow find their way around the thorned roots of her sharp, uncut nails. A little thought managed to spawn at the very back of his head, just barely breaking through the omens of cheery violence and the affectionate need to hurt that clouded his brain - a thought lightly suggesting that the reason behind his elation might've not been born from the fact of having once again one-upped W, but from the nice, pleasant feeling of her soft, supple skin beneath his fingers. Warm and familiar, surprisingly gentle to the touch - akin to a pillow sewn together from various dirty rags, but filled with the softest of fowl feathers. Caught up in the momentary bliss of his wandering thoughts, Andy stopped tickling her sides, which quickly earned him a fist to the stomach.

"O-... Ow!? What the hell?" He huffed, breathless. W, now exchanging heat for cold with her heavy breaths, rolled down her shirt and shoved him away.

"What the hell? Yeah, WHAT the hell? I told you to f-... fucking, stop tickling me. We ruled it out as unfair last month, no?" Despite her words, her tone remained filled with genuine glee, traces of giggles slithering past words and syllables, as she made herself comfortable against the sheets once more. Staring up at Andy, she seemed more amused than anything, with a wide grin stretching out her lips.

"YOU ruled it out as unfair. I don't remember agreeing."

"Yeah, whatever." She huffed, before patting down the spot next to her. "You cut the bullshit out and stop tickling, I stop using the knife. Fair?"

"Fair." Without much thought, Andy politely laid down next to her. Their horns met, his blackened keratin matching her dim crimson like a charm. W noticed the proximity and bumped her head against his a few times. A very hollow sound followed.

"I mean, it's just unfair. See, on the actual battlefield you don't get to pull your little ace and start tickling the moron you're fighting. You actually gotta show some warrior's spirit."

"Uh-huh. But we're not really on the battlefield though, are we?"

"Yeah, but… we're like, still trying to fight to the death, no?"

"..." Andy turned to stare at her. "... We are?"

"...?" W returned his gaze, her eyes just as confused as his. "What, aren't we? I mean… Hell, I thought we were."

"..." He couldn't decide whether to actually take her words as a tease or not. Her antennae twitched and swayed in the air, leaving her face locked in a rather befuddled expression. "So you were, what, actually trying to kill me all this time? All the times we beat the hell out one another?"

"Yeah? What, YOU weren't?" She seemed genuinely surprised by the revelation, head propped up on her elbow and all. Andy felt something akin to a cold shudder sliding down his spine, like freezing cold drops down an icicle. W seemed to notice the gentle shudder that shook his body, and lightly punched him on the shoulder. "I'm kidding! I'm just fucking with you, moron."

"Oh, oh, VERY funny." Andy huffed, before shoving her back. W retaliated by slapping him on the knee with her tail, and they both decided to just leave it at that. "... Besides. If you actually did gut me, who'd keep entertaining your moronic needs?"

"I don't have moronic needs. All my needs are purely natural and mostly intellectual in nature, you just don't have the mental capabilities to grasp the fine linings." W scoffed. "Your tiny, Sankta brain has little to no understanding of what a Sarkaz needs in life, so of course they seem moronic to you, you angel-haired ethnocentrist."

"Ethno-what?"

"Eth–... Yeah, nevermind. Not going there." A sigh followed, followed by a few blown spit-bubbles. "... Anyway, open up that pocket. Think I felt something in there."

"This one?" Andy slid his fingers over the pocket they fought so fiercely over.

"Yuh-uh. Or do you want me to gut you like a pinata? Can do that, too."

"Blah-blah. Gut this, gut that. Gut yourself sometime, you fucking loon." With a snicker bubbling from both lips, Andy unbuttoned the pocket and slid his hand inside. Out, came a soft, brown-ishly yellow, rectangular package, a little torn at the top. W raised an eyebrow.

"Hell is that?"

"Dunno. Feels light."

"Yeah, gimme." Promptly, she snatched the goodies from his hands. "This is… appears to be… Some, like… Smells like shit. How do you open this? Here? Torn, here. Oh, you gotta pull here, and… OH! OOOOOOH~!"

"What?" At the sight of her eyes going absolutely haywire, pupils widening to the diameter of a teacup, Andy tilted his head. "What is that?"

W could barely hide her excitement. Eyes glinting with joy, hands trembling a little, she held onto the little package and gently dug her fingers inside. Out, came a tiny stick of messily rolled up paper - somewhat translucent, somewhat dirty - all enveloping and tightly hugging a healthy dosing of some brown mush inside. Her grin only widened at the sight.

"Fuel, Lawdog. Pure fuel."

Andy blinked. Before his eyes laid nothing more, nothing less, but a rolled up cigarette. At once, his brain shoved aside any other thoughts and sent him spiraling back through a wet, rain-soaked hallway, where the floorboards creaked with every step and the doorframe remained a few centimeters too low, effectively catching his halo each time he tried to squeeze through. Where, to the left, lay his very own room he's long abandoned, and to the right - the study of a man he's been trying to forget. Unsuccessfully, but definitely attempting.

Stench of rot and cigarette smoke assaulted his nostrils whole, and sent a jolt of disgust rushing through each and every crevice of his mind and body. Where hundreds, if not thousands of empty words were spilled onto parchment, where the unmoving corpse of dear Raphael Reiff rested on his desk, smoldering cigarettes crowded the room and its many, many ashtrays. Little Andy stood in the doorway to his father's study, absolutely lost in the mind-fuzzying stench of cigarettes - his wings, gray and dim, his halo, colorless and void of radiance.

He blinked once more, refusing the image and returning back to W's excited face.

"... Cigarettes?"

"UH-HUH!" She squealed a little, before dragging herself up to her knees. Silks ruffled and shuffled in annoyance. "A whole pack! A whole-..."

"Wait, so you… you smoke?" His eyes narrowed. All this time they've spent together, yet he's never seen her do that. All that time, all those pleasantly painful memories…

"What? Duh? Of course I smoke. I smoke all the time." W huffed, feigning offense at his words. "I smoke idiots who refuse to listen, mostly. But cigarettes, too, of course. More than you'd ever imagine."

"But I've never seen you…-"

"Shuuuuuush." A finger pressed to his lips shut him right up. W soon replaced it with a fresh cigarette and shoved it between his teeth. "Then you're gonna see me now. Yeah?"

"..." Andy locked eyes with the nicotine stick suddenly invading his mouth. Like an unwanted abscess, a disgusting, vomit inducing ulcer, the cigarette stuck to his lips and refused to leave. He ran his tongue over one end a few times, feeling the flood of memories beginning to engulf his brain in its depths a little more each time his taste buds slid over the familiarly disgusting flavor. W proudly threw a cigarette between her lips and rubbed her hands together.

"Aaaalright!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..." After a moment of unbroken silence, she stopped rubbing her palms. "... Now what?"

"What?" Andy shot her an asking glance. "What, "Now what?"

"I mean, now what? What do we, uh… I mean, the ones I smoke usually come pre-lit."

"Pre-lit…?" His eyes narrowed, searching for something within her words. A word that slipped his mind at the moment. Something like… bullshit?

"Yeah? How do we, uh… how do we light this?

"Do we really have to…?"

"Yeah? Yeah. Duh." As if natural, W nodded. Only a moment later a flash of realization passed through the vast, empty fields of her mind. "... Wait, why not?"

"I just don't really feel like, uh… smoking, I guess." He murmured a little, with hints of genuine vulnerability invading his meek, tiny voice. Gaze downcast, ears down, like a tiny kitten after a rough scolding from his mother, Andy deflated on the spot. W caught on and grabbed both of his horns, before shaking some much needed sense into him.

"STOP."

She shook his head forward. Andy felt his brain rattling around loose inside his skull.

"BEING."

And a shake backwards.

"A."

Forwards.

"DAMN."

Backwards.

"PUSSY."

Forwards.

"AND."

Backwards.

"JUST."

You know the drill.

"SMOKE!"

Pop. Her hands latched off the horns with a little un-sucking sound, much like a squid unwrapping its sticky tentacles off a sea horror.

"... Okay." He nodded politely. "Alright." As if reprogrammed in an instant, he was now ready to sit and do as he's told. Eyes blank, he stared into W's.

"Alright!" She confirmed, before assuming her usual thinking stance - hand on her chin, a finger tapping her horn. "Now, how do we… how do we light this… how do we…"

"Like this?" Andy held up his fingers, a little flame now dancing between his index and thumb. W's eyes went wide at the sight, the fiery little spirit reflecting in its entirety off her glassy, apricot irises.

"H-... HOW?" She gasped, absolutely captivated by the sight.

"Dunno. You just do this, and this…" Andy snuffed the flame out with a snap of his fingers, before digging his hand back into another pocket. A fresh shotgun shell arose from within, soon dismantled with a loud pop. He smeared some ori-dust onto his index and thumb, then snapped his fingers - a little flame once more lit the night right up. "Like that."

"..." W stared, unmoving. Gaze locked on the twirling, innocently dancing flame in his hand, she silently admired the spectacle. Without so much so as a word, she leaned her head onward and closed her eyes, before sticking the very tip of her cigarette into the flame.

"...?" Andy watched her cook the nicotine stick for a few moments too long, the tip now smoldering and clearly on fire. She leaned back, grin wide and proud, as Andy snuffed the flame out once more.

"See, Lawfdog?" Her words came mumbled, as she tried her best to bite down on the cigarette and keep it in place. The tip was still very much so on fire. "Now we can smoke."

"... It's burning."

"It's supposed to be burning!"

"Yeah, but not like that." Andy licked the pillows of his fingers, before putting them gently to the little inferno raging on her cigarette. It died down right away, making W huff.

"Yeah, whatever. That works too."

"Uh-huh."

"And you forgot to light your own."

"Oh, did I?" Hints of false surprise lingered in his voice. "Slipped past me."

W rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. C'mere."

She leaned forward, a little too close to his own face for comfort. Watching the smoldering tip nearly reaching his, he shuddered, but eventually gave up and let it reach. Their cigarettes met, yet refused to light.

"... You gotta inhale."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." She frowned, before taking in a deep dosage of smoke. The intake of air lit the nicotine embers ablaze, letting Andy's cigarette catch on fire.

The moment finally came. Exodus for his innocence - embracing the spirit of whatever laid ahead. War. Death. Choices. No time for empathy, no place for weakness. The smoke reminded him of Kazdel and everything it stood for - everything it squashed beneath an iron heel and everything it took from everyone living in it. The weary, sleep deprived face of Raphael Reiff also crossed his mind - smiling gently, asking him how school was, despite the fact it was the time of summer vacation. Right before his departure, his parting with Laterano and everyone that lived behind those beautiful, marble walls…

He took a puff.

Every single thought, every worry and distraction seemed to simply… disappear. As if vacuumed right out of his skull, dragged through his ears and cast out into the void of the night - they all ceased to exist. What remained was the smooth, calming wave of pure white smoke that managed to slither its way down his windpipe. Crawling into his lungs, spreading its sweet disease, the smoke took its time in climbing into each little nook and cranny to truly permeate his body whole. Andy felt light - very light. Not just lightheaded, but as if he truly weighed almost nothing. Light as a feather, light as a little speck of dust traversing the very cosmos he found himself living and thriving in. Thriving, keyword. What is a life without flourish? An act without development, a character without growth? Good, bad… More good than bad. Andy had the answer. He had all the answers he could ever need, all of them stored within this tiny piece of parchment filled with tobacco.

Wide eyed, he tore his gaze off the cigarette to glance at W, having now tasted the strands that weaved their reality together. So much wisdom he had to share, so much truth and lies to clear up…

W stared back, cheeks all puffed up like two balloons full of helium. She blinked, before quickly puffing out all the smoke from her mouth.

"A-Ah, hits just right." With a little cough, she took another "puff", letting the smoke explore the fleshy insides of her mouth and nothing else. Huff, it came right out. "... Right?"

"..."

"Right, Lawdog?"

"I don't think that's how you're supposed to smoke it."

"Wh- 'Scuse me? I'm the experienced one here, I'm pretty sure I know more about smoking than you."

"But you just held it in…"

"Ah-ah. I inhaled, alright."

Andy raised a brow. For the first time in forever, W seemed to deflate a little beneath his gaze, with her antennae curling in shame. "... Fuck, okay, fine. Fine, I'll inhale."

"..." Under his judging eyes, W took a quick glance at her cigarette. Biting, spicy, scratchy… She had no idea air could taste like that. Even the blood-soaked dew of early morning battlefields bathed in the aftertaste of copper had some charm to it, but this…? How could people even… Eh, whatever.

Huff. She braced herself, before raising the cigarette to her lips again, her lungs taking in the dose of smoke like a pair of true champions. Eyes closed, antennae on full alert, tail high in the air, W inhaled the smoke.

"..."

"..." Andy watched on in anticipation, occasionally puffing on his own cigarette. With each dose of smoke, the memories of his father's addiction seemed to fade more and more into blankness.

"..." W, however, didn't share the sentiment. "... Mmph…"

First, it was a little twitch. The bare minimum, as the flesh-trees of her lungs felt a violent blanket of thorned smoke envelop them whole. They did not like it one bit, so a reaction had to follow.

Then, a violent set of convulsions. Shudders took over her body, as she bleated in disgust and threw the still smoldering cigarette away. Raspy coughs and choked wheezes followed, nearly forcing her lungs up her throat and out her mouth - Andy could just barely see her insides rolling up and turning inside out. Right before that, however, W bent herself in half and retched.

And retched.

And retched…

"Uh-oh." He thought.

…

"... Like this?"

"U-... Uh-huh. Y-Yeah. Just hold it like… like-... BLEGH…"

"There, there…"

"F-Fuck… Fuck me sideways…"

"Plenty of time for that later. Just let it all out."

"I dont w-wanna let it out, moron! You think I wanna keep vomit–... BLEGH…"

"There, there…"

Andy sighed. Somewhere by the sled's side, he found himself next to a retching, vomit-spewing W, bent over a barrel somewhat half full, or half empty with various sized daggers. The steel, now stained by that day's lunch, took each wave of the wretched assault with grace.

W, however, didn't.

"B-... Lawdog, hair…"

"Hm? Oh, right." His fingers traveled onward. He's been standing there, holding back most of her hair and gently petting her head for the past couple of minutes or so, but a lock or two must've escaped his dutiful nails. Without a word, he slid his hand over her forehead and gathered the messy strands that had fallen over her eyes. Right as they returned to their original position on the back of her head, her antennae swayed with the wind and rested on top of them - a small, gentle token of appreciation. At least that's what he thought.

"..."

All glassy eyed and wet from the sweat pooling over her face, W raised her head just above the barrel. Andy leaned over to check the damage.

"... You look like shit." He summed up.

"... Fuck you."

"You got some puke here. Here, lemme…"

"That's… That's so disgusting, though…?"

"Mm… I guess. You don't want me to wipe it?"

"..." She blinked, a train of thought quickly departing her brain. "... I mean, go ahead. If you wanna."

With the sleeve of his leather duster, Andy took care of her vomit covered lips. W stared ahead, fiddling around with her antennae and bashfully glancing away - it wasn't the most perfect of conditions she's found herself in, after all.

Rub, rub.

Diligently, his sleeve made quick work of the processed food-produce, before rubbing it into the side of their little puke-barrel. W watched his movements with a rather grim expression, her hair all disheveled and wet - all messily falling over her face, along with the nervously twitching antennae.

"... We don't talk about this, though. That clear?"

"Clear as day." He muttered back, still making sure there wasn't any W-residue left on his sleeve. Satisfied with the cleanliness, he glanced back with a sigh. "No word to Hedley or Ines about this either, I assume?"

"Yeah. No word to Hedley. ESPECIALLY not to Miss Know-It-All, no word about this-..."

"About what?"

A booming voice from behind took them both by surprise. They jumped a little, with their tails straightening involuntarily, eyes widening and W's head bug-sticks going all over the place. Right after, another violent convulsion shook her body whole, and she dived back into her vomit-barrel, spilling retches and puke along the way. Andy clicked his tongue and joined her side again, brushing her hair back and holding it in place.

"... You just have the best timing, y'know." He mumbled back, as Hoederer sauntered past, taking a few glances at the vomit-spewing girl.

"Indeed. Can see that. Anything serious, or…?"

"Nope." Andy shrugged. "... Just some bad, uh… bad prawns. From the sled."

"Prawns." He repeated, muling the word over in his head. "Prawns are a good excuse. Might need to remember that one."

"What, when puking your guts out?"

"In general. Blame it all on the prawns of gold, hm?" Hedley said in his usual calm and collected voice, before giving the boy's shoulder a gentle tap. "... Anyway. When she's done, we can finally get the hell away from this place. Never quite liked the woods at night. Much less so with all the corpses around."

"Getting the chills? You, of all people?" Andy couldn't help but snortle. W, less amused, let out a few more violent retches, to which he sighed and affectionately rubbed the back of her head. "... There, there."

"No, I wouldn't call them "chills." Unpleasantries, more like. Mental, physical… even something more out there. Beyond. Non-corporeal, so to speak."

"... Uh-huh? And how does soothing your non-bodily unpleasantries help us, exactly?" Andy glanced away from the girl, only for her antennae to envelop his hands once more, to which he couldn't help but smile a little.

"It doesn't. I assure you, it doesn't." Hedley followed with a smile of his own. "... But it does let us move on from here. Move past this, go on forward. Hop into a bed, get some rest, forget all about today's spilled blood. There's liters more to be spilled tomorrow, then the day after, Andy."

"And the day after, and after…" Andy counted out with a weary sigh, as W stopped convulsing for a moment. Her hand shot up from the barrel's sides, gathering their attention. Finger raised.

"... I'm fine." She muttered.

"...?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"... Not fine."

And just like that, her head disappeared into the barrel once more. Feral sounds of vomiting followed.

"There, t-... there." Andy rubbed and rubbed, kneading her hair like dough - gently with all fingers available. Hedley stared on, far ahead into the forest, completely uninterested in the two.

"... I've been looking into other contracts. When the two of you were gone, doing all this, I mean."

"Mmm. Didn't believe in us, huh?" Andy shot back with a little smirk. "Big surprise. Twerps got it done."

"Twerps did in fact get it done." Solemnly, he agreed, before resting both hands on the handguard of his massive blade stuck to his hip. "... But there's still more to do. Money to earn. More to life than just an assassination job."

"Oh yeah?" Andy glanced back to W, making sure she hasn't yet turned her stomach inside out. She gave a shaky thumbs up, before bleating out a broken "I'm good."

"Mmmhmm. Found something nice." Hedley threw his words into the wind, gaze locked on a goal yet unseen - invisible to Andy. "... Transport. Assisting, I mean. So, sort of logistics, again."

"Greaaat… Love logistics." Andy bit back with some clear sarcasm dripping from each word. "... I love protecting other people's stuff. And getting none of it at the end of the job."

"Well, this one's a bit different. Not exactly a caravan."

At his words, Andy couldn't help but perk up a bit. His tail followed right along

"Not a caravan? What, a car? A truck, maybe? Oooh, one of those land prowlers messengers use…?"

"Bigger." Hedley's lips twitched at the boy's enthusiasm. After all, even he couldn't deny - the mere thought of seeing a creature of steel like that in action did elicit some boyish excitement, even from his own, stoic self.

"Bigger?"

"Much bigger."

Their eyes met. Andy momentarily forgot all about W and her continuous retching.

"A landship, Andy. Real, genuine landship."

"..."

"But first, let's get some rest. Gotta say, all this looting made my bones tired as hell. Completly done in. Bet you two could use a warm bed as well, eh?"