Snippet #1430163

For the longest time, he couldn't remember how to walk.
How to eat. How to talk. But that never stopped him from thinking.
Now Knives was sitting up in a bed, in an unfamiliar room. He vaguely remembered his brother carrying him- at which thought he sneered and died a little inside. Also, as small of his coma-like drifting came to him, he recalled the chatter of girls.
Sitting on this bed, staring a whole into the floor, he could hear people downstairs. One was the unmistakeable voice of his boisterous brother. He smirked. Why had Vash spared him? That was right, he had never been as ruthess as he himself was. Even after Knives blew Vash's arm off and tormented him with the Gung Ho Guns, he was still that same loving caring annoying little thing. He sighed and wondered if he'd be able to make it downstairs.