“How am I supposed to know,” Arcade snapped, “I’m a doctor, not a veterinarian.”
“I was only asking because I wanted to know if it needs a boy name or a girl name,” she said, scowling at him.
“You,” Arcade looked down at the little abomination, then back at her, his face twisting into something that was a cross between confusion and disbelief, “you aren’t- No. Just, just not happening. Do I have to list the reasons why this is a bad tactical ploy, or can you just infer that for once from the sound of my voice?”
“What do you want me to do, throw it into the sagebrush for the radscorpions?”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” he stammered.
“Not our new baby,” Lily picked up the tiny bundle of claws and fangs and it made a peeping noise, somewhere between that of a baby bird and a kitten before nuzzling into the crook of the nightkin’s inner elbow. “We have to take care of the little boy, Jimmy.”
She looked pleadingly over at the Courier, who still wasn’t sure why the giant super mutant called her by a man’s name. Did she look like a boy? She was wearing a dress. Friday shook her head. And how does she know that it’s male?
“Listen,” the Courier said, and Rex obediently sat and looked up at her, “it’s little, as in, well, mostly harmless. We could use this to our advantage in the Mojave. Wouldn’t it be, I dunno, really, kinda, AMAZING to have a pet deathclaw? We’d be, like, the most bad mothers this side of Vegas!”
“We’d also be the most dead ‘mothers’ this side of Vegas,” Arcade countered. “Do I really need to list the reasons why this will turn out horribly, horribly badly for us?”
Lily held the deathclaw out in front of her, cooing at it as if it were a newborn human baby. Friday probably would have laughed at the sight if she wasn’t already in such a bad mood from losing her omelet opportunity.
“Well,” she finally held up her hands, “give it a week. If the thing is climbing the curtains in the Lucky 38 and Mr. House is sending laser guided missiles at us across the whole Mojave because it peed on his core processor, then we’ll talk.”
“A week,” Arcade rolled his eyes, “why am I not surprised by this? Oh, I know, because it’s you I’m talking to.”
“Well,” she smiled up at him, “I’ll let you name it.”
He looked over at Lily, who had currently caught a live lizard and was trying to feed the squirming bundle of scales to the baby’s waiting maw.
“How about we don’t? Names have a way of making people keep things. And since you named your cowboy repeater, and now won’t let it out of your sight, I think you’re more prone than most to this clause.”
“NAME IT.”
“Mother of- Dammit, just name it something stupid, like Fluffy or Mr. Cuddlesworth, or the Gigantic-Half-Ton-Monstrosity, which is what it’ll be in less than six months.”
“Fluffy works,” the Courier spun around, “Lily, say hello to baby Fluffy the deathclaw, this is gonna be shiny!”
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timeasmymeasure
The Ballad of Fluffy the Deathclaw and his Reluctant Messiah of Doom (1c/?)
Date: 2012-12-08 04:08 pm (UTC)“How am I supposed to know,” Arcade snapped, “I’m a doctor, not a veterinarian.”
“I was only asking because I wanted to know if it needs a boy name or a girl name,” she said, scowling at him.
“You,” Arcade looked down at the little abomination, then back at her, his face twisting into something that was a cross between confusion and disbelief, “you aren’t- No. Just, just not happening. Do I have to list the reasons why this is a bad tactical ploy, or can you just infer that for once from the sound of my voice?”
“What do you want me to do, throw it into the sagebrush for the radscorpions?”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” he stammered.
“Not our new baby,” Lily picked up the tiny bundle of claws and fangs and it made a peeping noise, somewhere between that of a baby bird and a kitten before nuzzling into the crook of the nightkin’s inner elbow. “We have to take care of the little boy, Jimmy.”
She looked pleadingly over at the Courier, who still wasn’t sure why the giant super mutant called her by a man’s name. Did she look like a boy? She was wearing a dress. Friday shook her head. And how does she know that it’s male?
“Listen,” the Courier said, and Rex obediently sat and looked up at her, “it’s little, as in, well, mostly harmless. We could use this to our advantage in the Mojave. Wouldn’t it be, I dunno, really, kinda, AMAZING to have a pet deathclaw? We’d be, like, the most bad mothers this side of Vegas!”
“We’d also be the most dead ‘mothers’ this side of Vegas,” Arcade countered. “Do I really need to list the reasons why this will turn out horribly, horribly badly for us?”
Lily held the deathclaw out in front of her, cooing at it as if it were a newborn human baby. Friday probably would have laughed at the sight if she wasn’t already in such a bad mood from losing her omelet opportunity.
“Well,” she finally held up her hands, “give it a week. If the thing is climbing the curtains in the Lucky 38 and Mr. House is sending laser guided missiles at us across the whole Mojave because it peed on his core processor, then we’ll talk.”
“A week,” Arcade rolled his eyes, “why am I not surprised by this? Oh, I know, because it’s you I’m talking to.”
“Well,” she smiled up at him, “I’ll let you name it.”
He looked over at Lily, who had currently caught a live lizard and was trying to feed the squirming bundle of scales to the baby’s waiting maw.
“How about we don’t? Names have a way of making people keep things. And since you named your cowboy repeater, and now won’t let it out of your sight, I think you’re more prone than most to this clause.”
“NAME IT.”
“Mother of- Dammit, just name it something stupid, like Fluffy or Mr. Cuddlesworth, or the Gigantic-Half-Ton-Monstrosity, which is what it’ll be in less than six months.”
“Fluffy works,” the Courier spun around, “Lily, say hello to baby Fluffy the deathclaw, this is gonna be shiny!”