#( dammit brad and luida could totally slap something like that together )

[orangetintedglasses]

There was a time and a place to dig your heels in, and 'trapped underground with one of them in a bad way' did not fall into either of those categories. Being petty and stubborn was for spats that didn't matter, over stuff they could safely dig their heels in for as long as they felt they could stand it; before one of them caved or they moved on naturally, saving the remnants for use down the line as little needles and barbs to mess with the other--

It wasn't meant for places like this. Not now. And not over something like that.

Vash would be quiet, too... even if it was a bit of a struggle after a while. The silence down here was, quite frankly, deafening and the fact that Wolfwood wasn't filling it like he normally would was making him anxious... despite that, though, the Plant managed to keep his mouth shut, too worried about what would come out if he opened it. He'd just... blab about what they could do to try and help this. About his concerns over it, about how much he cared about Wolfwood's well-being because he was important to him, because he loved--

The dizzying swirl that came with connecting alerted him to Wolfwood's presence on a more metaphysical level, and Vash quickly quieted his mind, too, still idly stroking the undertaker's hair. Guess that was kind of a silver-lining to sharing that space...

...

... five minutes was only five minutes, though; a terribly short span of time even inside of this liminal space they'd found themselves in. If Wolfwood had even remotely alluded to wanting more time, then Vash would've eagerly extended it, but Wolfwood was talking again. He probably wouldn't be able to talk him into resting for longer, now--

"Here, let me help you up..." the blond said, putting all of his weight on one knee as he pulled back to offer his hands-- brushed his fingers against Wolfwood's lightly so he knew where they were --to give the other man a hand getting to his feet. If he could see a little better, that was great... but they should still take it slow for a little bit longer.

... and if it wasn't nearly fully back after ten minutes, then he... probably should use a vial, because that would indicate actual damage. Wolfwood likely knew that-- might've even been thinking sooner than that --so Vash would just smile.

"As good as you'd make glasses look, you know you'd need a prescription for those, right~?" he asked, canting his head slightly. Teasing, he was teasing-- "they aren't universally attuned, unless there's something I don't know about how they make glasses these days."

He hums a quiet response, closing his eyes. It'd be a lie to say he wasn't embarrassed about bowing out of a fight so quickly, even if it was over something stupid and shouldn't have happened in the first place. These are special circumstances. They can't let tense emotions get in the way of the dangers that likely lurk below. Hell, there could be shit coming their way right now, and he'd be wholly unprepared for it.

Wolfwood doesn't say anything during their five minutes. Instead, he focuses on their shared breathing and the cadence of their heartbeats. Still here, still alive. It's not something he's ever noticed before, but his own heart seems to beat irregularly—it's as if there's a beat before the heartbeat. He wonders if it's always been like that or if it's just another side effect from becoming what he is now.

Incidentally, Wolfwood thinks he entered that weird shared space between himself and Vash again, but his head is so empty that nothing really comes of it. Honestly, he hadn't expected just asking to stop fighting to actually work. He's seen Vash stay petty over things before, knows that being a pacifist is not the same as being all love and sunshine all the time, so he's just glad to see that it's not the case right now.

Five minutes of designated 'eyes closed' time pass faster than he would've liked. Reluctantly, Wolfwood opens his eyes and does see better, but there are black splotches in some places and the image itself is blurry. Hey, it's progress at least. His eyesight isn't totally fucked, which is great news.

"Mm... can see a little better. Probably good enough to walk around, at least," he scoffs at a funny little thought, "Maybe one of the people who worked here had a spare pair of glasses lying around."

Corrective lenses. Him? What a joke.

Still... maybe a pair wouldn't hurt to have in the meantime...