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~~ 1 ~~
Wolfwood finds him hunched over in the sand.
In the aftermath of a fight on the dunes, Wolfwood treks back to Vash. Despite them having sent the bandits off full of more lead than they drove up with, they managed to get a few good hits in. Vash had been hurtled across the field by their largest member while Wolfwood shot the few others to keep them down.
Non-lethally, of course.
Vash sways on his feet, heaving as he wraps his arms tight around his midsection, red coat stained dark around his hips.
“Let me see ‘em, Spikey.” Wolfwood places a hand on Vash’s back and tries to ease him to the ground, the stubborn man refuses to lower himself.
“‘S fine, Nick.” Vash huffs. He sure as hell doesn’t sound fine. “Just need to...catch my breath.” He gives a weak, wheezy laugh.
Wolfwood scoffs, “Bullshit, ya can hardly breathe, much less stand.” He urges the blond down, who sits with his knees to his chest. “Sooner ya get patched up the sooner we get outta here.”
They’re meeting the insurance girls a few towns over from where they had been staying some days prior, or they were until their most recent run in with bounty hunters. If Vash is as injured as Wolfwood assumes then they’ll be a little late to meet the girls. He reaches for Vash’s arms, barely moving them before Vash flinches and holds himself tighter.
“No!” He pauses, taken aback by his own yell, “No it’s fine really. I’m not bleeding, honest! It just hurts a little.” His words slur together just a bit, like his tongue is too heavy.
Wolfwood groans. Vash always does this; undermines his injuries for one reason or another. It never fails to piss him off.
“Look, Needles, we can’t go anywhere til ya at least stop bleeding, just—“ He yanks Vash’s arms away to assess the damage.
“But it’s not—!” Vash falters, staring at Wolfwood who’s staring at the dark patch on his coat.
It’s certainly not blood, the fabric is slightly damp in a much thinner liquid. And now that he’s this close, Wolfwood picks up the faint scent of something acrid, but not metallic. He looks up at Vash to confirm his suspicions; the man is red in the face, avoiding his gaze with tears beading in his eyes.
For a brief moment, he’s back at the orphanage comforting a kid much younger than himself. They’d had an accident one night, and went to their big brother Nico for help, too scared to bother Miss Melanie. Vash reminds him of that little kid with the embarrassed flush to the tips of his ears. He’s shaking like he’s expecting to be yelled at. Wolfwood wipes the tears in Vash’s eyes before they can fall.
This too, he’ll take in stride.
“So you had an accident,” He shrugs, a little offput but certainly not about to voice it. Vash looks miserable like this already. Vash glances at him before looking away. “Not surprising considering the gut punch that guy gave ya.”
Vash doesn’t respond, just looks out at the dunes with a distant look in his eyes.
Wolfwood internally sighs, he really doesn’t want Vash to sit in his mess any longer, but they’re at least an hour away from the nearest town and have no extra clean clothes on them.
He pulls Vash up to his feet, the man looking a bit out of it but letting himself be dragged back to Angelina. Wolfwood takes off his suit jacket to lay it in the side car as a cushion. Cleaning Angelina’s seats is tougher than a single jacket, so he’s fine with this arrangement.
Vash looks at it sadly. “..Don’ wanna get it dirty..” he mumbles, chewing on his lip.
Wolfwood urges him to sit, “It’s fine, really. We’ll get to town soon enough and we can wash everything there.” He climbs onto his seat, Punisher already in place behind him, and runs a hand through Vash's black and blond locks. He ordinarily has trouble showing affection, but something about Vash right now reminds him of his younger siblings, and he finds himself falling into familiar habits. Vash hums and leans into the touch, arms wrapped back around himself as he settles into his seat.
“I’ll try to get us there fast so ya ain’t gotta be soiled too long, alright?”
Vash nods minutely, then looks up at him with hazy eyes and a tiny smile. “Thanks, Nico.”
He isn’t sure what he’s being thanked for, knowing what goes on in that spikey head of his, it could be anything. Was Vash expecting to be made fun of?
He decides not to ask and instead starts up Angelina.
~~ 2 ~~
Crumpled double dollars hit the wooden counter harder than necessary.
“One double room.” Wolfwood grunts, he grits his teeth as the woman behind the counter grimaces at their appearances while gathering their money.
They’re sweaty, a little bloody, and covered in sand. There’s a trail of it from the doors leading right to them. They had already made it to town but were unlucky enough to get caught in a sandstorm outside just now. After barely getting Angelina secured away from possible thieves and sand, they ran to the nearest inn. Thankfully they don’t seem to be booked out just yet.
A few others on the main floor seem to be taking shelter from the sandstorm as well, looking surly with or without a drunken flush on their face.
Vash sharply pokes his side in reprimand. He gives a friendly smile and waves to the woman as she hands Wolfwood their room key. Despite how he came off, he’s not upset with her, but he’s got sand in damn near every crevice and crease and they’ve been outside for days. He’s ready for a shower and a real bed. This inn seems nicer than what they can usually find, so hopefully they’ve got warm water.
They head upstairs and down the right hall, finding their room at the end of it. Wolfwood unlocks it with a sigh, he‘s ready to wash up and get alcohol in his system. Vash seems to be handling the gritty situation much better than him at least. He’s humming as he closes and locks the door, setting his bag down much more gently than the thump that Punisher was set down with.
There's plenty of things Wolfwood dislikes, but sand most definitely is near the top of his list. ‘It's coarse and rough and irritating.’ He remembers telling Vash once while he toes his shoes off, wincing at the granules he feels cling to his feet and spill on the floor. ‘And it gets everywhere.’
He can feel the grit anytime he moves and it’s quickly becoming too much. He wishes he could step out of his skin and shake it out instead. But he has to do this the hard way; peeling away his jacket and shirt and groaning as sand spills onto his bare chest and the floor.
They’ll need to ask for a broom.
He looks over at Vash, who has his gun disassembled on the desk that he sits at. He looks at ease as he cleans the metal.
“I’m taking the first shower,” Wolfwood decides upon seeing his companion relax. He slips out of his pants, face falling as bits of sand spill from them. “And see if they’ll give us a broom, yeah?
Vash hums and nods without looking up from the desk as Wolfwood shuts the bathroom door behind him.
.
.
.
Wolfwood huffs a sigh of relief as he steps out of the foggy bathroom, a towel snug around his hips. He’s pleasantly warm from the shower and free of grit at last. His skin feels refreshed and his nerves seem to have settled. The pile of sand in the room has been cleaned up, and Vash sits mostly unclothed at the head of their bed. His gun was reassembled and his clothes were thrown over the desk chair. His eyes are closed but Wolfwood knows he’s awake.
It’s nice seeing him relax.
Wolfwood walks over to his bag and pulls out his spare clothes. “Showers yours. I’m goin’ down for a drink.” He pulls on his clothes and shoes, crossing the room to reach the door.
“I’ll join you when I’m done.” Vash hums but doesn’t get up.
“Make sure ya swipe any sand off the bed, I ain’t sleeping in that shit.” Wolfwood hauls Punisher over his shoulder and heads downstairs.
.
.
.
.
.
He’s one sandwich and half a beer into his meal when Vash slides into the chair next to him. Dressed more casually like Wolfwood is and looking much less like ‘The Stampede’ aside from his eyes and hair.
They’re seated close to the wall, for less blind spots, with Punisher leaning on the wall nearby. The scene downstairs is much more lively than when they arrived; loud conversation carries from halfway across the room, patrons merrily clinking glasses together at the bar, fists slamming onto tables over a game of cards, it's…nice.
An average evening for most, but something a certain priest and outlaw aren't often privy to.
“Here, already ordered for you.” Wolfwood pushes a plate with two sandwiches towards the blond once he’s seated.
Vash smiles, taking a sandwich in hand. “Thanks, Nick.” He hums in delight, watching the patrons of the bar enjoy their evening.
They eat in silence, both recuperating after a tiring day. They order another round, Wolfwood up to two beers while Vash is at one. They're not planning on getting drunk tonight, so he might call it a night soon. When both their plates are empty. Vash plucks the poorly scrawled menu from the side of the table, turning it over in his hands.
“Ya still hungry, Needles?”
Vash sheepishly looks up from the menu. “I was hoping they had something sweet.” Suddenly his eyes light up and he’s frantically poking the menu, “Ice cream! Nick, that's so rare!” He lays the menu down but keeps poking it for emphasis. “Can we order some, Nico?”
Wolfwood blinks and stares at the menu. They had enough money for the room and a decent meal, but Vash’s sweet tooth tends to drain what’s left. That, or his own nicotine addiction. Wolfwood looks up from the menu to Vash’s sparkling, hopeful eyes. He can feel his resolve crumbling. Surely one treat couldn't hurt, if it’s for Vash.
“Yeah, why not? We should still have enough for supplies tomorrow.” Wolfwood says, sipping at the last of his beer.
Vash lights up, bouncing his legs in excitement. Once a waitress comes by their table he orders the treat, plain vanilla, and gently kicks his legs while he waits.
Wolfwood sits back in his chair and looks over at Vash. The man is humming with a sweet smile as he gently rocks in his seat. He's no stranger to Vash's excitement, or his erratic spikeyisms, but the way he's practically bouncing in his seat is a somewhat new sight. Not unlike the kids back at Hopeland vying for his attention. He can only hold so many of them at once, so the rest usually bounce in place waiting for their turn to hang off his arms or shoulders. Vash bubbles with that same excitement, and something about that tugs a little grin onto his face.
Vash practically glows as a bowl of frozen swirled cream is placed in between them, two spoons are placed on the table next. Vash enthusiastically thanks the waitress and grabs his spoon. When Wolfwood doesn’t take his own, Vash hands the utensil to the man himself.
“Nah I ain’t too big on sweets,” Wolfwood tells him. “You can have it all.”
Vash puts the second spoon down and attacks the dessert with his own. He hums in between bites of the cold treat, a dopey grin spreads across his face.
Even the way he eats reminds Wolfwood of a child. That glee of getting your favorite snack and not holding back while eating it. Case in point, the mess of ice cream on Vash's face. Stray droplets and smears stain his lips and cheeks. Wolfwood taps Vash's prosthetic, the hand holding onto the bowl, to get the man's attention.
“Can't ya eat without makin’ a mess, Spikey?” Wolfwood huffs fondly.
Vash sets his spoon in the mostly empty bowl with a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, Nico.” He goes to wipe his face with the side of his hand, only stopping when Wolfwood nudges his hand away.
“Eh im just teasin, darlin,” Wolfwood grabs a napkin and wipes the mess off Vash's face. “Just glad yer enjoying yer dessert.”
Vash blushes at the nickname as a smile grows on his face. He giggles when Wolfwood pokes his now clean cheeks and cups his face. “Darlin’?” Vash giggles, reaching up with his hand to hold Wolfwood's wrist.
“Yeah, darlin’.” Wolfwood thumbs Vash's cheek, rubbing over his beauty mark. “Yer real sweet y'know. Like that dessert a’ yours.”
Vash coos and leans into Wolfwood's touch. “Nico's sweet too.”
That familiar guilt curls in wolfwood's chest the way it always does when Vash talks nicely about him. He's a shepherd leading Vash to his slaughter, something Vash surely must know of by now, yet he's always nicer than Wolfwood deserves. He almost voices this, but with how squishy and cute Vaah is being, why ruin the mood? Instead, he leans forward and pecks a quick kiss on Vash's low swooping nose.
Vash erupts into a fit of giggles. His smile is so wide it crinkles the corners of his eyes. His greenish pupils sparkle in delight. Wolfwood smiles and feels himself fall in love all over again.
Suddenly, Vash jolts. Pulling away from Wolfwood to sit upright. His eyes are wide and glassy, like he's looking through Wolfwood instead of at him. His brows furrow and, coupled with his droopy eye shape, makes him look scared. The smile has long since dropped from his face.
“Spikey?”
Vash pushes the bowl away from himself. The soft ice cream is now mostly liquid pooling in the bowl. “‘M full.” He ducks his head and stumbles out of his seat, nearly toppling the chair in his haste. He glances at Wolfwood from beneath his lashes and mumbles a quick “Tired.” Before beelining upstairs. Wolfwood watches his tense form disappear and sighs.
He pushes the bowl towards the other used dishes and rests his head in his palm. Their waitress comes to collect the dishes and he decides to order another beer. He doesn't know what exactly went wrong, but he wants to give Vash some space before heading up himself.
~~ 2.5 ~~
Vash has to focus much too hard on putting one foot in front of the other as he walks back to their room. He quickly makes it up and shuts the door behind him. He leans against it, trying not to slide down and curl into a ball. It would only add to the miserably tiny feeling swirling in his head.
It usually crashes into him after a bad day, cold and unwelcome and gripping his entire being. Almost painfully making him feel like the helpless kid he was all those years ago.
Tonight was so different it scared him.
The typical cold slam of smallness didn't hit him, instead there was warmth creeping into his head, easing his worries and fears. Nico let him have a yummy treat and that made him so happy, he let the warmth settle in his head as he enjoyed the treat. He felt comfortable, he didn't have to think. He could let the clouds settle in his brain and just be. Knowing he could because his Nìco would…no.
Wolfwood. Not ‘Nico,’ not even ‘Nick’ because it left him teetering on the edge of that tiny feeling.
Vash wraps his arms around himself, fingers digging painfully into his scarred sides.
He can't let Nic–Wolfwood–find out. How many companions have left him over this? No one is too eager to babysit the humanoid typhoon, after all. Especially if that typhoon can't do something so simple as acting his own big age. He doesn't hold it against any of them. But Nico hadn't been rude to him just now…He'd let Vash eat ice cream, and talked to him so gently and sweetly his mind went all fuzzy.
It's not his fault though. There's no way the man could've known. He scratches at his sides, sending twinges of pain through him. It set his nerves alight, but he couldn't stop. Not until he was normal again. He doesn't have much time afterall, Wolfwood might come in at any moment.
He has to be normal when Wolfwood gets back. Otherwise he might embarrass himself further with his incessant giggles and touches. Something about feeling tiny makes him incredibly needy. Makes him want to hold Wolfwold's hand or curl up next to him. They may be partners but he doesn't want to smother the man, he doesn't want to scare him off.
Vash throws his head back, letting it thud against the hardwood door. He brings his hands up to his hair, grabbing fistfuls and tugging. He muffles a gasp of pain and keeps yanking at his hair. He almost wants to squeeze his eyes shut and cry. But he knows that won't do any good. He keeps his eyes open and focused on himself, on his long legs and large limbs–all much too big for a child. He takes a slow, shuddering breath, feeling a bit more like himself.
When the world is in focus again, and the tiny feeling is at the edge of his mind, he gets to his feet. He shuffles to his side of the bed, always closest to the door for a quick escape. Vash strips down to his underwear and socks and crawls under the blanket.
Wolfwood quietly opens the door to their room. He hardly believed Vash when he said he was tired, but he doesn't want to disturb the man if he actually is asleep. The room is dark, the moons having risen pour just enough light for him to make his way to the bed.
Wolfwood leans Punisher against the wall and stretches. A successful day of not getting shot at is about to end in the best sleep he's gotten in the past week. Vash already beat him to that, it seems. The man is a snoring lump on the bed, gangly limbs half on Wolfwood's own side. His prosthetic arm rests on the bedside table. Wolfwood tugs his shirt off and slips under the covers, gently moving Vash’s arm and leg up, and gets comfy. Vash, despite being asleep, wastes no time in clinging onto him once he's situated. Wolfwood sighs, content and sleepy, and rests a hand on Vash's head.
He doesn't know what got Vash so out of sorts earlier, nor does he know how to broach the subject. As much as they love to talk, they never really talk to each other. About what they're hiding. They just ignore it until it blows up in their face and they're forced to confront it. But they'd been trying to get better at that. Wolfwood won’t give Vash shit over this, it seems Vash just has some ways to go about…whatever's bothering him.
Wolfwood hums a quiet goodnight into the darkness, and feels the faintest squeeze from Vash in response.
Yeah, they'll be okay.
~~ 3 ~~
The past few days of travel have been uncharacteristically peaceful; Angelina wasn't breaking down so their drives were uneventful. They've settled within some rock formations to set up camp. The fire is bright and they've already eaten their lukewarm cans of beans. Not the most tasteful of meals, but better than nothing when on the open road.
Wolfwood notices something off about Vash as they settled in around their campsite. He's been wiggly, and is currently rocking back and forth across from him. He'd blame it on excess energy—they haven't met any bounty hunters in weeks, a rare streak he'd like to keep going—but there's something else about Vash tonight.
Wolfwood thinks back to a previous inn, when Vash abruptly left him in the bar like a kid thinking they're in trouble. His mannerisms tonight are quite similar to then, but he doesn't seem upset so maybe it'll be alright. He mentally shrugs, grabs a stick to poke the fire and refocuses on his and Vash's game of metaphorical I-Spy.
“I spyyyy…a wet croissant.” Vash says, his voice higher-pitched than usual.
“..A wet croissant?” Wolfwood echos with a raised brow.
Vash nods “Yeah, you know the bread that looks like..” He takes the stick from Wolfwood's hand, drawing a crescent shape into the sand with it. “Like this!”
Wolfwood pauses, thinking it over. “A wet croissant..” He looks at Vash's drawing, then to the sky. Two moons are full and bright, steadily climbing higher in the darkening sky. The third moon is just a little less than half full, like that croissant shape. The moon is slightly covered by rare, wispy thin clouds.
Wolfwood points up. “That it?” Clouds bring rain–only once in his life has that ever happened, turning the sandy ground wet with mud–so they're the only wet thing out here.
Vash smiles “Yep!”
They go back and forth like that for a while, making up increasingly silly things to spot in the empty desert. Until the moons rise higher and it's time to turn in for the night.
Vash stretches, yawns, then rubs his eyes with his fists. “Don’ wanna sleep on the sand again..” He pouts with a slight huff.
Wolfwood pauses in his cleaning of their campsite. There goes that way of speaking again. He doesn't hear it from Vash often, more accustomed to hearing it from children, but his partner has taken up that manner of speech again. Odd, but he's dealt with weirder things in his time.
“Well it's better than having to drive through the night ain't it? Don't have to sleep in the sidecar.”
Vash sleepily nods and sets up his bedroll.
Wolfwood sets up his own bedroll and beckons to Vash. “Why dont’cha sleep here next to me? It'll be a little cozier if we cuddle.”
Vash beams, grabs his bedroll and shuffles over to plop next to Wolfwood. “Can't sleep alone like this..too small..”
Wolfwood has no idea what that means. Vash is one of the tallest people he's met–small waist maybe but the rest of him is quite filled out. He doesn't bring attention to his confusion.
“Well you ain't gotta worry about that long as I'm around, Spikey.” Wolfwold grins and climbs into his sleeping bag. Vash follows suit and wiggles even closer to Wolfwood once they're comfortable.
“G'night, Nico.” Vaah whispers between them like it's a secret.
Wolfwood reaches out to gently boop Vash's nose, making the man giggle sweetly. “Night darlin’.”
~~ +1 ~~
They don't like to talk about their problems. Not until the bottled feelings violently explode and forces them to confront it. And the following conversations are like pulling teeth.
But Wolfwood knows it needs to be done. He can only go with the flow so often, especially when Vash's loopy, childish side is involved. He doesn't mind being gentler with the man, but it's been happening too frequently for it to be just a Spikeyism.
They've been driving for the better half of the day with minimal breaks, hoping to reach that blip of a town on the horizon before the suns set. Vash hums to himself in the sidecar, swaying to his own made up beat, only to pause when Wolfwood kills the engine and kicks out Angelina's stand.
“Something wrong?” Vash asks, doing a quick scan of their surroundings.
“What's up with ya, Needles?” Wolfwood asks, staring ahead at the dunes.
Vash tilts his head, “Whaddya mean?”
Wolfwood flicks Vash's nose. “Dont play dumb! When you act all young and–” he waves his hand wildly. “Like a lil kid! Don't think I ain't noticed, Spikey.”
“Ah…uhmm..” Vash hums, playing with a fraying thread on his coat.
“Well?”
“It'd be a lot to explain out here wouldn't it?” He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Can't we get to town first?”
Wolfwood eyes Vash from behind his sunglasses. He's got a tight-lipped smile and he exudes nervous energy.
“Cmoon Niick, we should make sure we can sleep in a real bed tonight! I'll tell you all about it later.” Vash bargains, waving hisbhand dismissively.
Wolfwood sighs and starts up Angelina. “I'm holdin’ ya to that, Needle Noggin.” He looks away from Vash's strained smile, pretends not to notice how his shoulders slump in relief and keeps driving.
.
.
.
The town they arrived at is quite small. One bar, one inn, one general store–the sand-worn buildings conveniently next to each other. This place barely counts as a town, if you ask Wolfwood, but he can't deny the good cover such an empty town will provide. They might be able to stay for a couple days, if they remain indoors that is. Word of a red coated man and his cross-carrying companion will spread fast in this podunk town, so they still need to lay low before this peaceful place takes up arms.
The inn only has a few rooms, they manage to snag one just as the moons rise. They head upstairs to their room, where Vash plops his bag down by the bed and stretches. He looks beautiful in the moonlight.
“I'm so glad we made it! Angelina's nice and all but her sidecar always leaves me stiff. Be nice if it were a bit bigger.”
“You got bigger sidecar money?” Wolfwood asks as he closes the door with his foot. He watches Vash sheepishly pat his pockets and chuckle. “Didn't think so.” Wolfwood sets Punisher down against the wall. “Spill it, Needles. I think I've waited long enough for an explanation, don't you?”
Vash jolts like he's been shocked then slumps. “Hahah..you remember that..?”
Wolfwood looks at him unamused. He lights a cigarette and leans against the door.
Vash shuffles nervously in the middle of the room, he stares out the window thoughtfully. “Ah..sometimes I just…dont feel like an adult?” He shifts from foot to foot. “Like I never really grew up? Mentally I mean, I'm definitely grown I mean-” He bounces in place, rambling. “It's a little jarring to see me when I feel so small in my head and then it gets weird cause–”
“Spikey, breathe.” Wolfwood raises a hand and blows smoke off to the side.
Vash sucks in a breath. “Right, yeah..okay.” he pauses, wrapping his arms around himself and giving a light squeeze. “Its…hard being an adult sometimes? Like, I feel tiny and helpless. I try not to, though!” He squeezes himself again. “Can't really afford that when you're an outlaw hahah..”
Wolfwood hums thoughtfully. “Whaddya normally do when ya feel that way?”
“Try to stop it? Try to make myself “normal” again, like I'm supposed to be.” Vash mumbles morosely.
Wolfwood chews the filter of his cigarette a little. “Don’t seem like the healthiest thing to do.”
Vash chuckles, “When do I ever do anything healthy for me?”
He could say that again. It's like Vash can't be bothered to take care of himself sometimes. But that seems like a whole different problem than what they're talking about, so Wolfwood doesn't voice it.
“Hm. What helps when ya feel small?”
Vash blooms a pretty red in the moonlight. “Uhm, honestly just having someone there is nice. I don't need special treatment or anything!” He turns to face Wolfwood with a sheepish grin on his face.
Wolfwood takes a puff and blows the smoke to the side. “Well ya seemed to like the gentler treatment like a real kid. Should I do that more?”
Vash looks away again. “Y-yeah..getting treated like I’m an actual child…embarrassing, isn't it?”
Wolfwood stubs his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe. “Nah, you've done plenty of embarrassing things but this ain't one of em.
Vash looks at him again with wide eyes. “Huh?”
“Ain't nothing wrong with needing a guiding hand every now and then right?” Wolfwood walks over to Vash, throwing an arm over his shoulders. “Shuck off some of that responsibility for a while.”
Vash chews his bottom lip, saying nothing.
“Tell ya what, you aint gotta hide feelin small alright? Just let me take care of ya.”
Vash scoffs but nestles Wolfwood's grasp. “I don't think you would enjoy babysitting me.”
Wolfwood decides not to mention how babysitting him is technically exactly what he was tasked with, just, not in the way he's offering.
Wolfwood smiles. “Why would I have an issue with it? I'm real good with kids, ya know.”
“I know but I’m.. mmfh.” Vash groans.
“What, taller? Bigger?” Wolfwood supplies.
Vash mutely nods.
“Well up here-” Wolfwood pokes Vash's forehead. “Yer as little as the other little ones I've raised. I don't see anything wrong with ya.”
“…Really?” Vash's eyes shine in the low light, damp with unscheduled tears.
“Yeah, darlin’. Ya trust me enough to stitch ya up, try trustin’ me with this, too.”
Vash leans further in Wolfwood's embrace, feeling pliant and squishy. “Okay..” He mumbles, resisting the urge to nibble on his fingers.
Wolfwood lowers his hand to Vash's lower back, walking them to the bed so they can rest. This isn't at all where he expected meeting Vash would land him, but he quite likes the turn of events. He loves his partner, and will take care of him big or small.