@amoirsetpacis
Vash's brother is gone. This younger copy learns that not out of a psychic link, but out of lonely habit: checking his notification-free contacts list regularly with ineffectual hope. He doesn't know what it's like to lose that supernatural connection, but he does know what it's like to lose him. Two years later, even with the reappearance of his own twin, he hasn't learned how to ease that pain. But he knows he can't let Vash suffer that alone—especially since he knows that Vash would want to. It's easy to imagine that this feeling's the same as what motivated his predecessor to do exactly what he's on his way to do.
And he feels sorry for that; he owes an apology for making his predecessor comfort him again and again. ...But now's not the time to give it in words. It is, however, what gets him to break his promise.
"Hiyaaaa!" Vash is cheery as ever when the front door swings open to reveal him, head briefly tilted off to the side with an annoying grin. The kind of life he's lived falls in favor with improvisation. There's a lack of rehearsal, but not sentiment. In his arms, stacked high enough in boxes: an on-the-fly strategic purchase of way too many pastries. It'll force the other to invite friends over to help eat, or for him to bring it over somewhere else. Regardless, he's still going to have to eat. This doppelganger was listening closely that day in the forest.
"So, where'm I puttin' all this?" The boxes are playfully hefted up, and Vash even takes a few steps forward, communicating: no matter what, you're gonna let me in!
