He was used to the cold. He was used to walking up alone. He was used to walking to the college to teach his biology class. He was used to coming home exhausted. He was used to eating leftovers from who knows when. Vash was used to it all.

The only break he got from this day to day was when he would occasionally go out to bars decked out in tight leather clothing, his hair spiked up, drinking until he blacks out waking up to someone who he doesn't know the name to, not does he wants to. Sometimes that didn't happen, those sometimes being when he went with friends or his brother when he would occasionally come over to visit.

Last night was one of those nights. Vash was alone, drunk, dressed in a tight leather top and pants with to many belts on. He remembers since of the drinks he had done of the conversation but most of it was a blur.

Vash's head was pounding with in ache within him the next morning, his bed empty and cold, his room empty of life except for him and his plants. He sighs softly sitting up going to grab some sweatpants and a shirt, with tired limbs he walks through his small apartment.

The only thing different was the the person throwing up in his toilet, he grimaced at the sight, feeling empathy for them being in their spot many times before, waking in a one night stand's house and pulling his guts up and all that. He shuffles his feet against the against the hardwood flooring as he goes to the kitchen grabbing a cup of water for the stranger and himself.

"Here, don't need you getting dehydrated." He offered the cup to them after he came back to the bathroom and once it was taken he starts sipping on his own cup letting the cold drink soothe the soreness in his throat.