Anon knew Wolfwood wasn’t a bad person; anyone with a brain could see that if they got to know him. He was just forced into the life he now had, the only life he’d ever known since the orphanage. He saw no escape from being the Punisher, and he thought he’d accepted that. Until Anon showed up.

After a long day of walking, Vash had suggested the gang stop at a motel for the night, and Anon got put in with Wolfwood in his room. Neither of them were sure if the others knew about them, but it didn’t matter now. What really worried Anon was that Wolfwood had been more distant with them lately. Around the others, he was his old insufferable self, but he was stopped flirting with Anon like he did before they both realized their feelings for each other.

He was smoking. He always did, despite Anon’s protestations. Lying back lazily on a worn recliner, leg propped up on his knee, Wolfwood let the smoke seep into his lungs before breathing it out slowly. Anon was sat on the creaky bed and the tension was suffocating.

“Anon.” Wolfwood finally lifted his gaze to look at them. “I’ve been thinkin’. We should stay as what we are.” He took a drag. “Or better yet, we should be less than that. That way, we can part ways when we get to wherever the hell we’re going.”