[Wolfwood says he can, but that doesn't mean he should. There is a very real possibility that whatever attraction had sparked between them could go fizzling out. He wouldn't blame the man for being revolted by the gnarled hunk of flesh that he was. It was the price of the life he led — wandering town to town being the most reviled name on the planet, all while refusing to bare his fangs.
The only reason Vash decides to lift his shirt at all is the fact that he'd rather have it happen sooner, rather than later. It would be a terrible thing, for them to patch things up only to fall apart once more, but he wouldn't blame Wolfwood. It wasn't pretty.
The thermal comes up over his head, and is promptly set aside, still within arm's reach. He resists the urge to cover himself up, hiding the now bare skin from Wolfwood's eyes. The cold doesn't help matters, sending gooseflesh rising up over nearly every inch of him.]
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The only reason Vash decides to lift his shirt at all is the fact that he'd rather have it happen sooner, rather than later. It would be a terrible thing, for them to patch things up only to fall apart once more, but he wouldn't blame Wolfwood. It wasn't pretty.
The thermal comes up over his head, and is promptly set aside, still within arm's reach. He resists the urge to cover himself up, hiding the now bare skin from Wolfwood's eyes. The cold doesn't help matters, sending gooseflesh rising up over nearly every inch of him.]
If you want me to put it back on, just say so.