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Wolfwood shook his head in response to Vash's inquiry, offering a grin and a shrug as well. It wouldn't do him good to tell him that he was once part of his brother's plan to kill him, right? Besides, Wolfwood badly needed a friend in this strange world, and better one could he ask for than his old buddy?

Providing he doesn't go run off or chased off, of course. Wolfwood grinned again at the memory of trying to track him down, sometimes succeeding and other times not.

"So this Dante's some kind of a tough bounty hunter?" he asked, flicking an ear up and tilting his head to one side. "I'd be careful if I were you, Vash. Some bounty hunters are more dangerous than they first appear to be. I'd watch him closely, just in case.

"Otherwise," he added, changing the topic, "What else do you do around here?"

Wolfwood tsk'd under his breath. "The last time you said that had your mug on the front page of the local paper with a story about how you destroyed half a town and caught a criminal in the process. You gotta be more careful when you stampede, Humanoid Typhoon."

He glanced sharply at Vash at the mention of "him." Were they thinking of the same person, the same him? Wolfwood wondered if he still stuck with his ways -- would they change because of their new forms, or continue on as dark as they were before?

"Free?" Wolfwood perked up, a wide grin forming on his face. "Now that I can live with! Say good-bye to poverty!" He bounced, then stopped. What... What was that smell? His nose twitched, and he looked momentarily confused before chuckling. "We're getting close to my cross," he said, continuing on, "I never thought I'd come across my own scent muddied up with my cigarettes. This new body takes time getting used to, y'know?"

The priest snickered, then shook his head. "I'm as clean as can be, as long as I don't run into anyone against cigarettes." He gave a shudder, "Ever been lectured at by a group of ladies for accidentally lighting up across the street from them? I had to buy the first bike I saw in order to get outta there."

He broke away from Vash and moved through through some bushes -- aha, there it was! Wolfwood walked over to his weapon of choice and looked down on it, trying to think of how to pick it up again. He began pawing at one of the looser buckles, succeeding in getting it under his par before rolling onto his back, sliding a wing and his head through the strap to get it on. "Ugh, no laughing," he warned, rocking back and forth to gain momentum to flip over with the cross on his back.

"What else is there besides the donuts? More booze and company?"

Wolfwood huffed. "I didn't think I'd be that obvious to them! How was I supposed to know they didn't like them?"

He flicked his ears back in annoyance at his friend's laughter, but gave him a look of grateful appreciation when he helped him out. One roll later, he was on his paws and hefting up the giant cross, using his wings to shift it into a more comfortable spot. "Ahh, there we go. A pity it's easy to set it down and harder to pick up. I need to find a better way to put it on, or grow a thumb." He looked down at his paws as he spoke, then shook his head.

"Huh, I wouldn't be too sure of that," he replied, grinning. "Trouble seems to enjoy finding you instead of the other way around, and this time there's no insurance girls around to make sure the damages are covered. Which way to this place?"

Wolfwood gave a half-shrug. "It probably could, though I'd rather have it lean against something... Otherwise, it'll fall over on the side with the strap on it." He grimaced at the thought of having to flip it over using his paws or mouth -- how awkward would THAT be?

Wolfwood followed Vash's observation, squinting against the harsh glare. "Huh," he said, blinking and looking down again, "Whaddya know? That might account for all this... green. I'm still not used to it." Nevermind the only time he saw it was back at the Gung-Ho Guns head quarters, back when he first joined. He had caught a glimpse, and felt like he had seen a picture of Eden. But... that was then, and now he knew it was anything BUT his Lord's garden.

"So a hotel, hm? I wonder if they have rooms there," Wolfwood mused, starting to walk towards Vash. "It'd beat staying outside, considering how different it is here."

Wolfwood nodded. "Yep. It's supposed to represent the weight of my sins, hence why it's called the Punisher. I dunno if it'll let me deal out mercy to those deserving His wrath." He shifted it, and sighed. "Funny, I never minded its weight before. Now... this is awkward, not to mention a pain on all paws. But hey, going all fours before the Lord's just another lesson in humility, I suppose."

He nodded along to Vash's words, perking an ear up at something. "Wait, what? Again? You mean you've seen this much green before?" He asked, his voice just shy of a demand. He seemed a bit jittery, and continued to look into the bushes and around, uneasy and fearful as if they were being watched.

Wolfwood shook his head. "Buddy, those "pockets of green" are nothing like this. This..." He nodded, indicating the area around them, "is something out of a fairy tale, a dream. Something like this... Well."

He looked uncomfortable, lowing his voice and moving closer to Vash. "The first time I've seen something like this," he confessed, "Was just a glimpse, but it was kept by someone with a heart more empty than the desert between December and New July."

He moved away, bursting into a laugh. "Looks like you get to play priest and deal with my confession now, needle-noggin."

The priest thought quickly. He could admit who it was openly, but what would Vash think? He would know Wolfwood's painful secret. Would he believe him? Wolfwood didn't want him to leave him in disgust. He needed him. But if he didn't tell, why would he be jumpy? But... wait. Aha.

"My mentor's... mentor, if that makes sense." Wolfwood shuddered, and prayed with all his heart that Vash had forgotten all about Chapel the Evergreen. Him. Mentor, savior... and killer of his previous life.

Wolfwood stopped, swishing his tails to one side and balancing up on his hind legs. He began pawing at one of his pockets, trying to get something inside. He needed a cigarette badly.