150 Bullets

006. Appearance

It's not often he gets to dress up.

Read: ever.

Vash turns back and forth in front of the mirror. The suit is brown-red, old, and Roche gave Vash a teal tie as an accent to the look. Unfortunately, Vash never learned how to tie things like that, so it hangs limply around his shoulders. The suit jacket is a bit small on him. The pants ride up on his ankles like he's prepping for a flood, his socks showing plainly. He lets out a small laugh. He knows he's tall, but this is ridiculous.

Mister Roche is a kind man to let an outlaw like him not only into his home, but to throw a party in his honor. Saving a rich man's daughter from bandits has its perks, sometimes. To let Vash borrow one of his suits was just added kindness – and something the man insisted on. "My wife likes our guests well-dressed for dinner. Best give you what I can so you can eat!" he'd said with a laugh.

Vash leaves the guest room he'd been dressing in, looking back once to look over his regular clothes and sack of supplies left behind. Across the hall is the room you've been given.

Vash tries one more time to tie the cloth around his neck in a respectable manner. The bow flops to one side, then slowly unties itself. He lets out a sigh. Well, nothing to do about it. He knocks on your door and opens it when a "Come in!" is called out.

He ducks his head a bit and asks, "Mayfly, are you ready -?"

He stops and stares.

You're in the middle of doing up your hair, standing in front of the full-length mirror. You look at him through the reflection, brows raising. "What?"

"Wow," he walks in, closing the door behind him. "You look..." He stops again, eyes running up and down your form.

Your dress is simple. A white shirt with ruffles and a dark forest green skirt that stops above your ankles. You have your regular boots on underneath, all scuffed and worn, but recently cleaned if the dirt smudges are anything to go by. The lady of the house has apparently given you some jewelry for your outfit as well – two balls of dark green stone hang from your ears, and a simple gold-and-green comb rests in your updo. A couple of gold rings sit on your fingers.

You turn, hands coming together to fidget nervously. "It's the only dress his wife had to spare," you explain. You're not sure what for. Maybe to say why it looked so...old fashioned.

But Vash, cheeks pink and smiling, holds out a hand and waits for you to place yours in it. Then, he pulls, slowly turning you in a circle. The green skirt brushes against his pants. He whistles low when you complete your circuit. "You look beautiful," he says. "More than beautiful." He never gets to see you like this; usually you're just as dirty as he is, traveling all day out in the deserts.

A bashful smile creeps onto your lips. "Mrs. Roche said the color would look good on me."

"It does," he says, pulling you close. He looks at your hair. "This took a while, huh?" He brushes a few strands out of your face and behind your ear.

You groan, "You have no idea. I hate doing my hair."

He laughs because he knows. "Well, I like it. You look like a lady."

"I always look like a lady," you grump, but purse your lips when he leans down for a kiss.

"My lady," he murmurs. His nose nudges yours, and you let out a soft laugh.

"My sweet man," you say, stepping back to take him in. Your lips purse again, and a small snort escapes. "Well. That could fit better, couldn't it?" Realizing what you said, your eyes widen and you stutter, "Y-You still look good! Handsome!"

"I look like a kid playing dress-up," he laughs. "Can you help me with the tie? I can't get it."

You do so happily, pulling it together with the hands of somewhat-practiced ease. "Comes with tying parcels together," you explain. The bow sits at his neck well now. You brush it with a hand, then brush off his shoulders. "It goes well with your eyes." You reach up and smooth out a bit of his hair. It's still wild, though. Untamed. Just like him.

And just like him, he ducks low to catch your lips again. He can't ever get enough. Your lips are sweet and soft with the balm Mrs. Roche provided. Gently, you pull at his tie to bring him closer. He hums. He likes that. He really likes this.

"Mr. Stampede! Miss ______? Dinner is served!"

You separate at the sound of Mr. Roche out in the hallway. Quickly, you go to the door and open it. "We'll be down!" you call back, and hear the sound of your host's footsteps track back down the stairs. You turn back and smile at Vash. "Are you ready?"

He pulls at his sleeves, knowing it won't do any good. "Yes," he holds out the crook of his arm in silent question.

You smile and hook your arm through his. Together, with the neat and rare appearance of a regular couple, you walk down the hall and head to dinner.