vash and meryl but it's late on a bench under a weak street lamp. a tepid night, befitting of a kind of grief you have to accept. meryl, with all the conviction in the world, declaring she loves him.
vash, with his unending softness in a hard world, smiling gently, to reduce the impact of his words:
"it'll pass."
because it will, and so will she, but never he.