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"Whaaat? You mean someone already came here and beat you to your own preaching?" Wolfwood joked, his tails swishing side to side. "If that's the case, I think you and your 'partner' will find jobs hard to come by."

Wolfwood took another swig, setting it down to shrug. "Well, hopefully it's not pebbles. I've pulled enough out of my boots last time to last me a lifetime." He shrugged, grinning at Vash's words. "Touche, Spikey. In that case, why don't you fill me in on what you've been doing with yourself before coming here?"

Wolfwood smirked, lifting his bottle and finishing it off. The buzz the liquor gave was welcomed like a long-lost friend, leaving him with a warm, fuzzy feeling. He'd probably feel as if he swallowed a kitten tomorrow because of it, but hey -- misery loves company, unless Vash pulls his usual stunt and takes off in the middle of the night.

There was a change in Vash's manner that caused Wolfwood to perk up and tense. "Vash..." Wolfwood began quietly, "If you did, then you'd be no better than his lap-dog Legato. You did the right thing, even if... This happened." He raised a paw to indicate the room and both of them, staring down at it. "Funny, " he added, "You don't think much of 'em 'til you lose 'em."

He looked at Vash again, watching him drink and thinking of another ques-- wait a minute. "Hold it!" He rose up on the table, pounding his paws on it and leaning foward towards Vash. "Did you just say brother?! You're related to that crazy b*****d?! And he might be here?!"

Upon receiving his answer, Wolfwood pushed away from the table and sat back down on his haunches, ruffling his wings and looking uneasily about. "Vash, do you remember the ghost-city of November? All the people disappeared, as if they suddenly dropped whatever they were doing and left. Investigators found no signs of life, or signs that people left in a hurry. All they found, written on the fountain in blood was the word 'Knives.'"

He shook his head, adding, "If your... brother did that," he couldn't imagine Vash being related to him of all people, but who was he to judge? That was left to his God. "Then think of what he could do here. It seems that you and your 'partner' will have something to hunt down after all, providing you can best him again."

"Hm, not one for dirty work, is he?" Wolfwood mused, looking sharply up at Vash when the Gung-ho Guns were mentioned. Here, Wolfwood leaned to one side and used his muzzle to dig his his pocket, coming up a moment later with a metal lighter. This was dropped onto the table and held down with one paw while he gripped the top portion with his teeth, opening it. His cigarette was next brought out and held in his mouth as he maneuvered the lighter up, carefully using one paw to flick it on. It took him a couple tries, but once the flame appeared Wolfwood lit his cigarette, then used the side of his muzzle to cap the lighter and snuff the flame.

The priest took a long pull on his cigarette before lowering his head to the paw that still rested on the table, setting it between two stubby toes. His puff of air to let the smoke out was more of a sigh than a usual contented release. "The Gung-ho Guns are more of a cult than puppets. Only two were hand-picked by Knives -- the rest were gathered by Legato."

He took another pull on his cigarette and let it out. Quietly, he added, "Including me."

Wolfwood watched Vash warily as he digested that bit of information. His thoughts probably were in conflict -- after all, how did such a good guy like Wolfwood willingly join a gang of murderers who killed on command? He lowered his head and sucked on his cigarette, using its addictive smoke to calm his nerves.

He grinned and closed his eyes when Vash's paw came into contact with his head, puffing the smoke out and away before replying. "Damn straight I did. I'm Wolfwood, not somebody's trained mutt!" He shrugged, adding, "I know bits here and there. They called me Chapel for obvious reasons, and I didn't hang around their HQ much. I'm not exactly well liked around there, y'know?" He puffed again on his cigarette, and decided: what the hell? "Originally I was supposed to lead you to Knives, but that didn't really work out, did it? Hell, you really are something Vash. I was damn lucky to throw my chips in with you."

"I knew you weren't mortal," Wolfwood said, shaking his head. But to believe that Vash of all people was there at the Great Fall? No way. That can't be possible, all though... there was that one ship... Wolfwood furrowed his brow, his eyes widening at the count of years. "Well! For being several decades old, you don't look it."

"Vash, I don't think you're a killer. In all our traveling, I've yet to see you willingly take someone's life -- that's been my job when we were there. Hell, if anything I should be the one with such a large bounty on my head, not you. You're too much of a pacifist.

"But... If you need another gunhand in case things get ugly, I'll back you up." Wolfwood said, nodding towards his wrapped-up cross. "My Punisher should still be functional, though it'll be interesting to see how I can use it with no hands."

Wolfwood arched an eyebrow at Vash. "A Plant?" He repeated, trying to work it out. "You look human to me, and you're not exactly green... Though you'd make a good tumbleweed. Maybe."

"Well see, there you go!" Wolfwood cried triumphantly, jabbing his cigarette towards Vash. "If you don't kill, then therefore you're not responsible for July! You'd never do something like that, therefore it wasn't you." He nodded with himself, satisfied with that logic.

Though... one look at the crybaby before him, and Wolfwood would be hard pressed to believe that THIS person was the Humanoid Typhoon. "Aw, quit yer cryin' and eat your donuts," Wolfwood quipped, rolling his eyes and taking another pull of his cigarette. "We're not drunk enough yet to drown in tears."

"Ahh, I see," Wolfwood murmured, his mind racing fast. Knives wanted him to lead the man who single-handedly destroyed July to him? Wolfwood didn't believe the stories about the devil in red that destroyed July. There were stories and claims that the Humanoid Typhoon destroyed the city, but Vash? It was hard to wrap his mind around, especially once he got to know him. "I still don't think you have it in ya," he said with a shrug, adding, "Funny, I thought the moon looked a little different... Pity about that, eh? Makes me wonder how many people threw a fit over it. At least it takes care of any desert-dwellers who believe they're some kind of animal at night under the fifth moon."

Vash's habit of love and peace wasn't an act, Wolfwood decided. It was a lifetime's worth of penitence. He was making up for each life, day by day. Wolfood shook his head in admiration.

When the donuts were offered, Wolfwood was about to refuse. He had his cigarette, right? But a look at it revealed that it was burning a lot quicker than he anticipated. "Sure," he said, pushing himself up to lean over the table and grab a donut at random with his muzzle before sitting back down. He moved his cigaretteless paw over and rested the donut on that before eating. "Wuu noo," he said, swallowing, "I wasn't ever fond of the donuts back home. They're way too plain and sugary for my tastes. It's interesting how different this place, isn't it?"