That's a good question, as they look clean and relatively smooth. They may simply grow far too fast, somehow congruent with his plentiful hair. He licks sugar off these claws, the little rasps on his tongue scratching against them almost inaudibly.

He'd answer the question, but he's distracted by the idea of Vash's own impermanence. "Do you travel a lot?" he asks, sounding almost wistful.