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Wolfwood's ear gave a flick as Vash groaned, sending messages to the sleeping priest that Someone Was There. He mumbled something soothing in his sleep for a reply before shifting, opting to curl up to retain the warmth that Vash removed by sitting up.

Slish-klink.

The priest slowly opened his eyes, squeezing them shut again and groaning. He reached out with a back paw again, feeling for the bottle he bumped into. When he located it again, the priest turned and moved toward it, clutching the bottle with two paws. "Mmm~" He purred, falling back into a doze with a smile on his face.

There was something... wrong. Wolfwood furrowed his brow as he spread his wings -- wait, what? Wolfwood woke with a start, sitting up and wincing as the sudden movement brought a stab of pain to his head. Wolfwood ignored the pain, staring at himself for a moment. This... no, he changed, remember? He felt foolish, even more foolish than the goofball Vash occasionally was. Speaking of...

Wolfwood turned to look at the gunman, flapping his wings a couple times in stretch before folding them onto his back. He ducked his head and rubbed a paw over his muzzle in a futile attempt to rub his eyes before looking again. He moved towards the side of the table and jumped down, taking his time to do a couple cat-like stretches he picked up from watching various strays. "Vash," he said, voice rough and dry. He stopped, taking a moment to clear his throat and continued, "What are y'doin'? It's getting as warm as it was back home -- you're not hidin' a heater beneath that coat of your's, are ya?" He moved towards him, then back. "Ugh! You're hot!"

Wolfwood chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Get your head outta the gutter, needle-noggin'! Y'know I wasn't meaning hot in that way. All though..." He trailed off thoughtfully, wiggling his eyebrows at Vash before bursting out into laughter. "Hahaha! You need to keep your concentration better, Vash. What if you were up against some hot-shot lookin' to make a name for himself, and his sister shows up to compliment your rented coat?" He lifted a paw and gestured sharply to one side. "Disaster! That's what."

The priest-kitsu snickered at Vash's paws, shaking his head. "I hope you're intending to eat that one," he remarked, "I prefer to cook my eggs the ol' fashioned way. When'd you learn that trick, or will you give me another demonstration when you use it to make toast?"

Wolfwood chuckled in response, following Vash and carefully avoiding the bits of egg that trailed after the red-coated chef. "Aw, c'mon and brighten up! The morning's fresh, there's tons of drinks... And I haven't felt like this in awhile, wow." He shook his head, frowning faintly. "My headaches don't usually last this long..."

"Meh, I like my eggs half-runny, sunny side up." He added as they walked, "The runny part of the yolk is best, though," he looked down at his paws, "I don't know if it'll be different without utensils. Ah, well."

He waited until they were in the kitchen before returning to the topic of Vash's "trick." "Whaddya mean your heating isn't a trick? That'd be useful if someone came in too close to ya. It was starting to get too hot even for me, and I grew up in hotter places!"

Wolfwood smirked, "Now now, let's not blame the Lord for the blessing that only once of us has." The grin on his face was enough to write it off as a joke -- or was it? Wolfwood was smug in his ability to resist pain, and loved it even more after a heavy night of drinking. All that was needed to make this morning perfect was to have a smoke... He had pity on Vash, though -- there's no telling how sick a stick might make him, and rather than being thrown off his breakfast all together he decided to play it safe.

At Vash's explanation, he nodded. "I see, so it's something you can't do that often, considering how busy your life is." He shrugged, idly wondering if he could use his friend as a portable lighter. Now that would be something to try later! He made a note of it, then walked over to where the eggs were. He knew how to cook -- bachelor's meals and various soups mostly -- but when it came to making things now...

"You need any help with anything?" He asked, hesitant but offering anyway. "If there's any fruit here, you should take a bite of that. Those help me out whenever I'm in your current state."

Considering the heat Vash generated, Wolfwood wondered if anyone near him was disturbed by the sudden rise in temperature. Then again, Wolfwood was in the same room when he noticed it. For all he knew, he was the first to know about Vash's heating ability. He couldn't see much use for it beyond hand-cooking something like the egg he was playing with earlier, and he had yet to learn that there was such a thing as "cold" and "snow" where heat would be a welcomed blessing.

"The frying pan? I'll see what I can rummage up," Wolfwood replied, nosing open various cabinets until finding one. He carefully picked up the handle in his jaws and retreated out of the cabinet, bringing the skillet to Vash. "Is this big enough?" He asked after setting it down, wrinkling his nose at the taste of it.

"Nah, it should work. It's one of the only useful things the man that claimed to be my 'guardian' taught me before I joined the priesthood." Wolfwood replied bitterly, shrugging. "It might take more then that, but at least your throat'll stop feeling like hell."

While it may have taken the priest some time to adjust to the various unbelievable facts that Vash put forth simply by existing, Wolfwood was a man of faith. If his friend said it, then it had to be true -- right? On top of that, he didn't feel a nagging sensation between his shoulders, or feel vulnerable with his back to the other kitsu. That would be a hard lesson to unlearn; Vash's teachings (if they could be called that, Wolfwood decided with amusement) built up to mercy, and the last time he showed it... Wolfwood sighed. It would take awhile to ignore the constant you'regoingtogetshotdon'tshowyourbackTURN! warning that rang in the back of his head each time he turned away, but c'mon. This was Vash he was dealing with, not a member of the Gung-ho Guns. In all honesty, Wolfwood should have seen it coming.

Wolfwood offered a shrug in response to Vash's question, then laughed at his comment of needing a chair. "Pride cometh before a fall," he replied with a grin. "Just don't fall off and crack your head open. I don't think the world's ready for all the Love and Peace that'll come flyin' out."

Wait, Vash wanted him to do what? Wolfwood looked around for the toaster, flicking his ears back in annoyance. "What I wouldn't give for my old height," he muttered, walking over to the bred and grabbing ahold of the plastic wrapping. He carried it over to the counter and tossed his head, releasing in order to get the bread up there faster. "Yep, a bit runny if you can manage it," he replied before setting his teeth to the bread's plastic twisty-sealer. "Mrrfgh! Urf, I hate desh shigns," he announced, spitting aside the offending plastic.