Aside from that one horribly embarrassing little conversation on the journals (what had he been thinking, to say it again sober? But the curse hadn't let him sing - well, type - anything else), Wolfwood had been trying not to talk to or run into Vash, figuring they both needed some time to think about it.
Of course, he should've known better than to assume Vash would do anything sensible, ever. He rolled out of bed with a tired groan when the knocking woke him up, sitting there for a while and rubbing his eyes, before getting dressed and heading for the door. There was no need to ask who it was - for one thing, Vash was the only one he knew well enough to really get a visit from, and for another, Vash was the only one insane enough to knock on someone's door like that at six in the morning after he knew damn well they'd been up past midnight.
"Good morning, Vash," he mumbled, brain too foggy to remember to call him 'Eriks'.