Aa. [He looks down at himself almost hesitantly, grimacing despite himself. One hand runs up the fleshy part of his left arm, feeling the depth of an old pink gash, wincing even though it's too old to hurt. He gives it another brush to confirm to himself that it really doesn't before looking down to his gut where the makeshift bandages are. That will probably become another scar, and he knows how he got that one.] I've never met him formally before this, but I think I have a guess: Vash the Stampede, the sixty billion double dollar outlaw known as the Humanoid Typhoon is... [He wants to say 'an insufferably good man' but that's too simple, and the key word here really does need to be insufferable. There's a limit to what you can call 'good' while still expecting anybody to be good. A hero, a good man, would kill the hijackers and save the passengers. That would make a good man even with bloody hands. He gets more and more frustrated as the silence drags out before finding the words.] ...an idiot.