[ vash sighs with open relief, a hand on his chest, when louis tells him no, there's nothing as bureaucratic as paperwork waiting for him somewhere. chugging hot sauce would be less painful than leafing through stacks of forms, signing and re-signing his initials until his eyes crossed.

when louis comes to sit nearby, vash squats and then sits himself, evidently not bothered by his company at all. he stretches out one long leg, the other bent at the knee so he can prop his arms against it. ]

I noticed that. I helped sweep up the sawdust in the shop where they carved me this and called it even.

[ vash indicates what he means by "this" by holding his left arm aloft: it's a prosthetic, carved wood and ball-jointed. a kind of enchantment is singed into the surface in small script in several places, which explains why he can gives the fingers a wiggle.

he seems to mull over louis' offer to answer any questions vash has, but-- ]

I'm not even sure what to ask. This place is so... different from what I'm used to.