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A heavy sigh sent a cloud of smoke curling up from his maw, hanging for a moment and slipping away from view. Wolfwood watched the smoke under a lazy, heavy-lidded gaze. He knew something was at work, be it He who Rules the Heavens or He who Rules the Desert. Carefully, Wolfwood half-rolled onto one side to bring his paw up to his muzzle to carefully seal his lips around the thin cigarette stick. He drew in his breath, savoring the taste before releasing the cigarette and returning to his former upright sprawled position, holding the smoke in until the opening of his jaw to let it escape, vanish.

He wondered if he was just like the smoke. There one moment, praying to God the next for the sin he committed, then gone... But here. He flexed his wings, spreading them out and folding them back. Was this the afterlife? Was this the same Heaven he preached about? The same place he pulled the trigger for, countless times?

The priest curled to move his paw close to his muzzle again. He was getting slow, as the cigarette was nearing his end -- but wasn't he usually a waster? He allowed himself a grin, uncurling to lay upon his stomach again. The smoke escaped again, but this time out in one soft breath. "Funny," he mused, "I usually don't get to finish these... With the exception of waiting for that pin-head to get his arm fixed."

Wolfwood swore and visibly jumped at Vash's appearance, his wings spreading wide in alarm as the dark kitsu scrambled for the still-burning cigarette that leaped out his paws in giddy glee. "Vash!" He yelled, using both paws to successfully tame the wayward cigarette, biting back a yelp as the hot end eagerly hissed against his paw. He fumbled with his paws more, his ears flicking back in annoyance. "This was so much easier when I had thumbs," he muttered, finally returning the cigarette to its former place.

With his precious saved, Wolfwood looked up at Vash and grinned, "That's good to know. I haven't seen any posters with your mug around either... Or any double dollars." He looked a bit puzzled, then zeroed in on what the gunman had with him.

He twitched his nose, tilting his head to one side. There was the sweet musk of his cigarette, and there was that strange smell that Wolfwood could only identify as Vash-smell, but... He sniffed again. Baked, sugary and jelly goodness: Vash's weak spot. Wolfwood shook his head, settling for another puff of his cigarette. "If I run out," he said, pausing to breathe in the bittersweet smoke before letting it out, carefully in a direction away from his friend, "Then I'll find this world's equivalent. How can you adjust to... this?" He lifted his wings, folding them again and sighing. "This... is not how I imagined the afterlife to be."

Wolfwood snorted, shaking his head. "Can't help ya there, bud. I've yet to have someone take a look at this handsome face of mine and flee in terror. You, on the other hand..." He grinned, chuckling. "I remember those insurance girls once told me you had a whole town after you. I suppose as long as the word doesn't get out..." He trailed off, shrugged, and took another drag on his diminishing cigarette.

"Your life's been all about coping, hasn't it?" The preacher mused quietly, following his friend's gaze and losing himself in the clouds. "Every day, you somehow managed to outwit the very people trying to kill you that you saved moments before. It must've been... difficult."

At the mention of him, Wolfwood snapped away from the clouds to look at him. "...Son of a b***h," he hissed, biting off his next words as Vash offered the bag. Was he... worried? Wolfwood's ears flicked back and down in annoyance, holding there for a moment before he shook his head, freeing them of their position. By the Lord's Grace! He needed to learn how to control this... form.

He let the cigarette stub fall free from his paw, rising to quickly grind it in the dirt before investigating the bag. How odd -- he could smell the sweetness of the sugar, the warmth of the glaze and the raspberry jelly. He was shocked he could decipher all this by scent alone; the various cigarettes he used over the years yielded different scents, but to smell like this...!

Wolfwood dipped his head into the bag and carefully grabbed a donut, backing out carefully to regard the baked treat now in his mouth. How was he supposed to eat without hands?

Wolfwood shook his head, grinning around his donut at Vash's mimed movements. He begins chewing, swiftly tilting his head from side to side to prevent the donut to falling to bits, before lifting a paw to steady a chunk. Shamelessly the priest indulges in an act of gluttony, quickly finishing the treat in a couple more bites. Well, so much for sticking to the teachings.

He licked his chops, sitting down to face his friend and study him carefully. Sure he looked different; but that ratty coat and spikey hair were still the same, as well as those glasses. Wolfwood wondered where his own pair of shades went, then tossed that thought aside, putting on a smug grin at Vash's gaping jaw. "What? As long as the Lord's name isn't used in vain, I don't think he gives a damn."

But... He gazed levelly at his friend, speaking in hushed tones, "The last thing I can remember... is going to God's house and repenting. Do you think... There are more of us? More from that Godforsaken desert?"

Wolfwood rolled his eyes at Vash. Sure, he had the opportunity to travel more... freely then Vash, but he had an inkling that Vash held back more than he did. Hell, he had barely begun learning that there was more to that world than he thought before... The untimely exit.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, if only the insurance girls could've seen you then. They probably would have ran around shouting that you were a dangerous man and an insurance hazard." He grinned fondly, remembering their antics before quickly shoving them away from his mind. He didn't need to remember her face, so full of trust and taking his word that he'd be back. He shouldn't have, but what else could have been done?

"Hm, we'll see how long that peace lasts, bud," he curled his lips back in a fierce, wide grin. "Knowing you, you'll stick your head someplace where it doesn't belong and will have your face plastered on every wall and post, just like the good ol' days!" He gestured to the surrounding foliage, adding, "This place... It's a lot different, isn't it? It's kinda like Eden."

Wolfwood laughed, tsk'ing playfully. "Sure they did. They weren't too bad to have around, although Millie did use me as a cover once. Could you believe I had to act like her husband once?!" Even though he was grinning, his heart was warmed by the experience -- nevermind that they were smuggling a girl out of a bad situation, but to have a family for just an instant... It reminded him of when he was with the children at the orphanage, but there was something about it that was more... satisfying.

"Hey, you think I don't know that?" He asked, immediately looking down at his chest upon speaking. "It's... shocking to see myself like this, but at least I don't have those gaping holes anymore. I know how the Savior feels like, after that." He shuddered, his blue-black wings folding tightly against his body.

When Vash turned to pull something else out of his bag, Wolfwood flicked his ears forward. Here's a riddle: what's in a bottle, slooshes, and ultimately brings joy? Wolfwood's face lit up in a grin at the sight, then stopped in puzzlement. "Soooo," he began, "How are we supposed to drink it? Got any cute little bowls in that bag of your's?"

Wolfwood sat up straighter and took on an air of wounded dignity. "You," he began, "Always ended up with the spinsters. Meryl kept bossing you around shouting in that megaphone of her's that you were a dangerous 'natural disaster' and should be avoided."

He blinked at the mention of scars. "Actually, I've never checked." He admitted, managing a shrug of embarrassment. "I'd rather not try to take off my clothes to check -- I'd rather not flock around naked in this Eden, since we've already been kicked out of it once. I'd rather not press my luck, thanks... But on a more earthly note, I don't think I'd be able to put it back on without thumbs. Besides, how easy is it to see scars through this fur?"

"Ha! Givvit here, spikey!" Wolfwood cried, bouncing up from his seated position and over to the bottle. He mimicked his actions, managing to pull it off. He didn't tilt the bottle back as far as Vash, and managed a couple gulps before quickly lowering his head to set it back on the ground. "Whew! Things are a bit different this way," he complained, leaning his head to one side before switching, attempting to stretch his neck muscles. "This is certainly a new experience!"

Wolfwood laughed, giving his friend a wicked grin. "You'd know her better than I! After alll," his eyebrows wiggled up and down a couple times in suggestion, "She did follow you to the ends of the planet, didn't see? Good girl, a bit loud but her heart's in the right place."

He carefully nodded, and repeated the bite-to-drink succeeding in a couple more gulps than last time before carefully putting it down, using one paw to steady it. "Doesn't look it, but I'll probably miss my mouth the more I drink -- the usual." He shrugged, then looked up sharply at Vash's question. "...Fly? Buddy, I've been weighed down with my cross." He nodded over to one side, where his Punisher lay carefully wrapped. He was still puzzling over it -- the last time he saw it, it was used as a support to hold himself in a kneeling position, unwrapped and still smoldering from its use.

"Is it... even possible?" He asked slowly, turning from his friend to regard his wings with new eyes.