"I just don't understand what my problem is lately." Octavo rests his chin in his hand, poking at the pat of butter currently melting into his baked potato. "Other then the whole… incident. You know. Everything feels off; I keep spacing out and walking into the wrong building. I look up and it's suddenly six and the sun is going down… I can't remember if I fed the cats or not. I had to start keeping a chart. Sometimes I forget I have cats and then I'm surprised when I see them in the morning!"

Pausing, he reaches for his glass to take a sip of his blood orange cosmo. "You're ah… healthy, right? Do you think I should see a doctor? Or do you feel it too?"

What do you think of...

🎉 : do they enjoy social events, or endure them?

🩹 : what actually helps them heal, even if it's unhealthy?

[ x. ]

🪞 : do they look at themselves in mirrors, or avoid them? why?

Despite his slightly vain nature at times ( he makes sure he's put together ! ) except for getting ready he doesn't really pay attention to mirrors all that much. It's not that he purposefully avoids them, though; more so that he is fairly indifferent to them. He himself is also pretty indifferent to how his body looks to himself-- but he's very aware of how his body ight look to others, which is why he usually stays pretty covered.

🎉 : do they enjoy social events, or endure them?

It depends! Often times Vash is very social, one to flit around at gatherings and talk to all sorts of people. He loves hearing about their lives-- and their gossip, if he's being honest. He also has never been one to shy away from a get-together with drinks. However, he is also one to dip nearly as soon as he feels that he's 'done' at whatever event he's found himself in attendance of. Huge fan of an Irish goodbye.

🩹 : what actually helps them heal, even if it's unhealthy?

[ x. ]

Vash perks up at the request. "Aw-- you sure? S'nothin' special, honest." But he's already at the range anyway, Colt strapped to his thigh- so what the hell. Why not?

Idly, the revolver gets pulled out of his holster, cylinder flipped open and double checked even though Vash has always taken it upon himself to know exactly how loaded the gun was at all times, which chambers were loaded and which were not. It's then slide back into the holster, Vash's hand hovering above the grip.

A breeze gently rolls through; as soon as it stills, the Colt gets pulled out of its holster and tossed up into the air above his head in one quick, fluid motion, spinning as it does so. It's caught without looking, goes on to continue spinning around his trigger finger, only pausing for a fraction of a second to fire at the target down the range, aim landing dead-on.

A twist of the wrist and then it's spinning horizontally, Vash's body along with it, whipping around at the waist to fire again-- the holes overlap, leaving the vague outline of a tiny figure eight, far enough away to be difficult to entirely perceive.

Finally, it's tossed backwards from his hip, only to continue to flip up and over his shoulder-- caught again, the bullet fired, completing the small triangle at the target's bullseye.

... Only for Vash to completely deflate as the gun finally finds home again at his thigh.

"…I'm assuming you were going somewhere about it being fine to have no mother?"