So a thief and a nine-year-old kid walk into a bar.

Okay, you know what? I'm not going to let her dictate my life to me. That is entirely beneath me. Running and hiding because I'm afraid a former enemy is going to make wiseass comments-- or even so much as *talk* to me-- is ridiculous and not worthy of a Q, certainly not worthy of *this* Q. And besides, I have this funny story to tell about Vash and my kid.

( I have been informed this was taking up too much room on people's friends list, by someone I am still trying to talk into babysitting, so I will go ahead and put it behind a cut tag. Sheesh. )