#(we'll see if it manifests or if ill hold onto it for a better time )

[bigboylivio]

| L/R |

Maybe heading first into the room wasn't the best idea, but he was playing this thing by ear. Having lived by following orders and under strict surveillance nearly all his life--this unstructured, aimlessness has been both refreshing and confusing to learn to navigate. At least there was some level of familiarity to try to find his footing on.

The big guy did take in the state of the room with a trained eye, but chose not to dwell too closely on what he saw just now. Focus on not getting yourself in trouble, Livio. Razlo was still quiet, but that made it easier to concentrate, so he'll take it.

He just stood and waited, not offering any help or comment. The ball was in Wolfwood's court, given he was the 'outsider' of this particular situation, he would let him control the situation. Ever the follower, still. He tried not to grin at the thought. The glare that was shot his way killed the almost-grin immediately. As did locking the door.

This was the moment, wasn't it? It wouldn't kill him, most likely, but if Wolfwood wanted to do damage to him, he wouldn't put up any kind of fight. Not with the guilt of his own past still heavy in his guts like lead weights. He'd let any Wolfwood beat him to a pulp again, if he thought it would ease that pain. Make him forget seeing that face, trenched in both of their blood, moments before--

The pistol snapped his mind away from the spiral he nearly let himself get swept into again. Its not fear of the gun that made him stiffen, but sadness that it was necessary to do so. Livio crosses his arms slowly, meaning his hands aren't near his Fangs, and they remain fully visible. He had no intention of brandishing them at Wolfwood. Never again.

How did he explain any of this? He barely understood any of it, himself. He only had the briefest brush with this shit once or twice before now. And he was left alone, without knowing if there were rules to follow, things he shouldn't say, things he should say, even.

"I met Vash only once before today," he started, carefully, with a head tilt toward the bed. "I was confused, too, because he was not.. The Vash I remember. The one I.. I've fought beside, against Knives, and Legato. Running into you was just lucky, I was trying to find someone he could be safe with after he collapsed..." Great good god, he sounded insane.

"This Vash is the one that explained it to me, I know this shit s-sounds crazy, but he seemed to get it right off. I assume you've had... other things to deal with, than talk about o-other worlds?" Livio gestured to the state of the bloody towels and sheets.

"I don't know what happened to the L-Livio of this world, other than what you just said." My brother is dead. I killed him. Livio swallowed hard, breathed in deeply. Don't cry again. Suck it up.

"I am Livio," he said, a touch of shyness straining the tone as he spoke his name. All of this was way too much. A sentiment of 'for fuck's sake' rumbled from the back of his mind. "B-But not the one you knew. By how Vash, here, described him, it was before my..."

/Say it. Just say it. Say it or I'll fucking say it!

"It was before my m-modifications," he got it out with a rush of breath. "I-I spent a lot of time bulking up before and the end result is--" With one massive hand, he patted his own bicep, and turned his head to show the metal disc that replaced his left ear, suddenly feeling too big and self-conscious. Not to mention the docking port on his back for the third arm he used to have, but that was not visible.

"The only thing I think I know for certain is, things are really different between our worlds. I-I don't know what else to say, what I should say, if there's things I shouldn't tell you. I just know that I'm here, and I can help. Or t-try, anyway."

With a reaction like that, Wolfwood is... slightly... more convinced that this is Livio. Somehow. He's not sure how, since Livio is worm chum in God-knows-where under iles and iles of sand, but... he seems to pass every check. Weird as hell.

After a turn and a click, Wolfwood opens the door to the room he and Vash had been sharing for a couple days now. It's in... questionable condition, if Livio looks too closely he'll find bloody towels and sheets soaking in the tub next to... other soiled linens (which Wolfwood has full intention of not letting him see). In general, the two seem to have left the place a mess. This Wolfwood has never been a fan of chores, and cleaning has never been his forte, unless it's his gun.

He allows Livio to enter first, perhaps against his better judgement—when else will he get the opportunity to be in close quarters with his 'brother' anyway? The only time he got to spend with Livio after getting taken away has been with Chapel or against one another. Sometimes both. This is ridiculous.

Wolfwood follows Livio in, then lies Vash onto the bed. He's not sure whether to give him a blanket or not, so for now he will just rest on top of them. The undertaker has a larger problem to deal with before things get ugly.

Stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand, Wolfwood shoots another piercing glare through Livio—right over the rims of his glasses.

The confusion doesn't let up. It's not right.

He drifts to the door again, this time locking it and placing the Punisher in front of it like a blockade. His hand rests on one of its arms as he contemplates his next move with a heavy sigh.

"Okay. I'm going to try this one more time," Wolfwood heel-turns and pulls a grader pistol from beneath his blazer. He keeps it leisurely pointed at the larger man before him—still unsure whether to attack or not. Notably, his trigger finger rests on the guard.

"My brother is dead. I watched him die. So who, or what, are you? How did you find me, how do you know him? What do you know about Knives or Legato?"

His face scrunches in frustration while he attempts to find the right question to ask.

"How much do you remember?"