Nicholas D. Wolfwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fullofmercy) wrote2009-08-08 09:57 pm
fullofmercy) wrote2009-08-08 09:57 pm
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It's like he just can't win.
Nuts! thinks Wolfwood. He lifts a hand to his cigarette, steadies it as he takes a pull. His mind swirls, the seconds tick by--the cigarette only buys him so much time. The situation is desperate! Maybe I should just headbutt him and make a run for it?
Oh, jeez.
The man across from him raises both eyebrows as Wolfwood shakes his head violently in a vain attempt to clear it of such blasphemous thoughts. I can't do that!
Around him, garish music plays for the gaudy girl dancing on the stage, and men sit at small tables, silent, tired from the sun and the sand and travel. The girl twitches and stomps, and though she's dressed in a short little skirt and corset, he feels nothing but pity. She's just a kid, after all---
Ugh. A kid who needs dancing lessons.
Concentrate! He shakes his head again, feverishly peering at the pieces in front of him. Maybe--no.
Or--
Nah, not that, either.
"What?!? You don't have any pudding?"
That sounds...awfully familiar. Horribly so. Swiveling, he sees a tall girl with long brown hair bring her hands down on the bar. Even from across the room, he could see the hurt and reproach in her face as the bartender tried to explain that...well, there's no pudding in a bar.
Her lower lip trembles. "But I want to have pudding! Please don't be mean to me."
Altogether, it's too much for the bartender, who clearly doesn't speak Milly Thompson. Fortunately for him, Wolfwood does.
He lifts a hand. "Hey, what's the problem here?" There's even a warm little rush he gets when she spins around with a squeal and a big, beaming smile, just for him. How long's it been since someone's been happy to see him?
One last shake of the head. That's hardly worth thinking about.
Actually, it's sort of nice to walk back with her, out from under the stifling caravan tent, and it's nice to talk, too. Milly's so sweet and unassuming...and silly. In the dry world of Gunsmoke, being with Milly is like sitting by a cool, babbling brook in the shade. She's relaxing. It's...
Well, it's just a little treat! He's allowed to enjoy the company of a person instead of the Punisher for a little while every now and then, especially now. Trouble follows him like a bad dog, so is it really skin off anyone's back if he gives himself a little break every now and again?
Of course, Milly's no picnic, either, especially not after they run into that terrible dancing girl from the bar and find that she's wanted to be sold as a slave. Did he say trouble followed him? Milly's the one who hides the girl, she's the one who lies to the bandits.
"You know, there's such a thing as being too nice," he grumbles, as they walk the girl (who has a name, apparently, Moore, because that's such a nice, feminine name for a girl, jeez) out past the bounds of the caravan.
It's Milly who wants to help Moore and her boyfriend, the increasingly useless and annoying Julius, escape. It's Milly who drags them out into the desert. It's Milly who worries about the kids' safety, Milly who stands in his way when he tries to tell them the truth about this world.
It's Milly who waves goodbye, tears streaming down her face, as Moore and Julius leave to start a life on their own.
It drives Wolfwood a little nuts.
You can't just do that. You can't just think about the good of one person, or even two people. It's so frustrating. No one else seems to understand that if Julius leaves, the caravan goes under. Okay, sure, trafficking in slaves isn't the greatest way to fund an operation, but what about the innocent people in the caravan, the young families and the kids who need the protection of traveling in a group? What are they gonna do when they're turned away from the next city? How are they gonna make it through the desert without a car from their rich dad and the help of the frickin' Humanoid Typhoon to start them on their way?
But then, of course, it does work out. Vash makes it look real, so real that he convinced even Meryl and Milly that the kids were dead. The caravan leader says his son was killed, he gets a new pass, everyone wins.
He doesn't think anyone learned anything at all.
That's not how it works. That's not how life is. Don't they understand that sacrifices are needed? That there is no place for selfishness in the already selfish world they live in? The kids go off without a care in the world, learning nothing about how there's right, and there's wrong, and you can't just wave a magic wand and make the wrong choice the right one every time. Even the caravan leader gets by just fine. And Milly, sad to see Moore and Julius leave, remains secure in her image of the world as a good and friendly place.
It's annoying. She's so...good. She does everything he can't.
And she makes it look so easy.
It's so irritating.
Nuts! thinks Wolfwood. He lifts a hand to his cigarette, steadies it as he takes a pull. His mind swirls, the seconds tick by--the cigarette only buys him so much time. The situation is desperate! Maybe I should just headbutt him and make a run for it?
Oh, jeez.
The man across from him raises both eyebrows as Wolfwood shakes his head violently in a vain attempt to clear it of such blasphemous thoughts. I can't do that!
Around him, garish music plays for the gaudy girl dancing on the stage, and men sit at small tables, silent, tired from the sun and the sand and travel. The girl twitches and stomps, and though she's dressed in a short little skirt and corset, he feels nothing but pity. She's just a kid, after all---
Ugh. A kid who needs dancing lessons.
Concentrate! He shakes his head again, feverishly peering at the pieces in front of him. Maybe--no.
Or--
Nah, not that, either.
"What?!? You don't have any pudding?"
That sounds...awfully familiar. Horribly so. Swiveling, he sees a tall girl with long brown hair bring her hands down on the bar. Even from across the room, he could see the hurt and reproach in her face as the bartender tried to explain that...well, there's no pudding in a bar.
Her lower lip trembles. "But I want to have pudding! Please don't be mean to me."
Altogether, it's too much for the bartender, who clearly doesn't speak Milly Thompson. Fortunately for him, Wolfwood does.
He lifts a hand. "Hey, what's the problem here?" There's even a warm little rush he gets when she spins around with a squeal and a big, beaming smile, just for him. How long's it been since someone's been happy to see him?
One last shake of the head. That's hardly worth thinking about.
Actually, it's sort of nice to walk back with her, out from under the stifling caravan tent, and it's nice to talk, too. Milly's so sweet and unassuming...and silly. In the dry world of Gunsmoke, being with Milly is like sitting by a cool, babbling brook in the shade. She's relaxing. It's...
Well, it's just a little treat! He's allowed to enjoy the company of a person instead of the Punisher for a little while every now and then, especially now. Trouble follows him like a bad dog, so is it really skin off anyone's back if he gives himself a little break every now and again?
Of course, Milly's no picnic, either, especially not after they run into that terrible dancing girl from the bar and find that she's wanted to be sold as a slave. Did he say trouble followed him? Milly's the one who hides the girl, she's the one who lies to the bandits.
"You know, there's such a thing as being too nice," he grumbles, as they walk the girl (who has a name, apparently, Moore, because that's such a nice, feminine name for a girl, jeez) out past the bounds of the caravan.
It's Milly who wants to help Moore and her boyfriend, the increasingly useless and annoying Julius, escape. It's Milly who drags them out into the desert. It's Milly who worries about the kids' safety, Milly who stands in his way when he tries to tell them the truth about this world.
It's Milly who waves goodbye, tears streaming down her face, as Moore and Julius leave to start a life on their own.
It drives Wolfwood a little nuts.
You can't just do that. You can't just think about the good of one person, or even two people. It's so frustrating. No one else seems to understand that if Julius leaves, the caravan goes under. Okay, sure, trafficking in slaves isn't the greatest way to fund an operation, but what about the innocent people in the caravan, the young families and the kids who need the protection of traveling in a group? What are they gonna do when they're turned away from the next city? How are they gonna make it through the desert without a car from their rich dad and the help of the frickin' Humanoid Typhoon to start them on their way?
But then, of course, it does work out. Vash makes it look real, so real that he convinced even Meryl and Milly that the kids were dead. The caravan leader says his son was killed, he gets a new pass, everyone wins.
He doesn't think anyone learned anything at all.
That's not how it works. That's not how life is. Don't they understand that sacrifices are needed? That there is no place for selfishness in the already selfish world they live in? The kids go off without a care in the world, learning nothing about how there's right, and there's wrong, and you can't just wave a magic wand and make the wrong choice the right one every time. Even the caravan leader gets by just fine. And Milly, sad to see Moore and Julius leave, remains secure in her image of the world as a good and friendly place.
It's annoying. She's so...good. She does everything he can't.
And she makes it look so easy.
It's so irritating.