“That was too close for my comfort,” he said and rested his hands on the counter. It was the only place in the building with some decent light in it. It was also a small comfort that those creatures outside were afraid, or venerated or some other nonsense like that; of holograms enough not to check which were the ones to actually shot lasers out of their heads.
“Why fret?” the Courier called from her place by the door, her voice muffled by that darn helmet and her head bowed over her pip-boy as she tapped one button after the other. “You know better than anyone of us how blind they are.”
“Yes. I also know that they outnumber us like a wasp hive outnumbers a tarantula…” he paused, sarcasm losing its speed a bit, for the lack of a better analogy, “Or whatever that prey may be. This is not the first time your nose poking into every corner had me almost killed.” He turned, glaring behind his sunglasses at the nigh invisible hunched figure in the black suit of armor.
In truth, she had managed to snuck up to more than a few lone locals and disable them in a rather gory manner which would insure them never rising up again; and thus ensuring his own increasing survival rate – but still! Dean would not even be in this situation had she not insisted to take the long way around, passing through every door not nailed shut or taped down, crossing every roof that looked marginally capable of holding her weight, making the damn collar beep by going on into the parts unknown, perusing her useless scavenger hunt… Oh, she had singlehandedly invited death by explosion, the Ghost People dragging him away and heart attack. The way things were going he just had to pick the lottery ticket and pray it would be a painless one.
But Dean Domino had not survived as long as he did in the Villa by taking the long way around if it happened to be littered with undying monstrosities from the depths of whatever place that cooked up the Cloud. Or by letting some tourist yank his explosive leash left and right at her suicidal whim in search of… paper scraps.
“And you act like you’ve never went scavenged before,” she said quickly pushing one such small scrap of paper she had found earlier back into her pocket. Dean noticed immediately, both it and how she slipped past his question and he was not pleased in the least. The tourist was up to something. He didn’t know if it involved him – and for the sake of his own hide he decided to presume that it did – but he would not let it come that far.
Re: F!Courier/Dean Domino - A Heist - 1b
“Why fret?” the Courier called from her place by the door, her voice muffled by that darn helmet and her head bowed over her pip-boy as she tapped one button after the other. “You know better than anyone of us how blind they are.”
“Yes. I also know that they outnumber us like a wasp hive outnumbers a tarantula…” he paused, sarcasm losing its speed a bit, for the lack of a better analogy, “Or whatever that prey may be. This is not the first time your nose poking into every corner had me almost killed.” He turned, glaring behind his sunglasses at the nigh invisible hunched figure in the black suit of armor.
In truth, she had managed to snuck up to more than a few lone locals and disable them in a rather gory manner which would insure them never rising up again; and thus ensuring his own increasing survival rate – but still! Dean would not even be in this situation had she not insisted to take the long way around, passing through every door not nailed shut or taped down, crossing every roof that looked marginally capable of holding her weight, making the damn collar beep by going on into the parts unknown, perusing her useless scavenger hunt… Oh, she had singlehandedly invited death by explosion, the Ghost People dragging him away and heart attack. The way things were going he just had to pick the lottery ticket and pray it would be a painless one.
But Dean Domino had not survived as long as he did in the Villa by taking the long way around if it happened to be littered with undying monstrosities from the depths of whatever place that cooked up the Cloud. Or by letting some tourist yank his explosive leash left and right at her suicidal whim in search of… paper scraps.
“And you act like you’ve never went scavenged before,” she said quickly pushing one such small scrap of paper she had found earlier back into her pocket. Dean noticed immediately, both it and how she slipped past his question and he was not pleased in the least. The tourist was up to something. He didn’t know if it involved him – and for the sake of his own hide he decided to presume that it did – but he would not let it come that far.