Thank you guys, I’m glad some are enjoying it. Just a word of warning – this is going to be a long one (because Dean is too much fun and I have way too many ideas about him that demand being put onto paper), and also a slow one. I’m not the fastest writer in these parts :(
I’ll also try to stay on course for the OP’s prompt, but Dean does what Dean wants to do. He might just run off chasing the ladies at the Tops when I’m not looking :P
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It was a welcomed break. Tense as all hell, but still welcome. Sierra Madre didn’t offer much opportunity for rest outside of that safe haven Dean had cultivated over the years. Not that ‘safe’ and ‘Madre’ could possibly exist in the same sentence, or the same universe for that matter, Dean pondered while mixing drinks, a foul-smelling concoction that it was.
As he pulled out couple of glasses he glanced at where she had leaned against the bar and under the light of the hologram spread out all the paper and holotapes she had found so far. It wasn’t too bad to have someone watch his back, he mused; and having a partner was, for a heist of this size, a must for him to pull it through. The potential bother that she was roped into being his partner didn’t even begin to make a step across his mind. After all, charm and a bit of persuasion here and there were required to get his previous partner to commit fully to the heist. What he hadn’t counted on was the old man, who had shackled him into such a demeaning position as well.
Dean didn’t consider himself particularly fussy. He would take what he could get. Until the opportunity presented itself and he could get something better. One step at the time, and a patience of a veteran safari hunter was how he worked.
She raised her helmet a bit so she could take a drink. He took notice of it instantly. He could see her lips, dried and cracked but nicely shaped, and there was a thin scar snaking around her chin. She still had all her teeth – that he could see – and that surprised him. He wouldn’t think that anything like dental hygiene still existed, never mind the constant dangers of living involved. Thick shadow covering upper part of her face left quite a lot to the imagination. For all he knew she could have a peeled off and cleanly polished skull from her nose up.
It was a fleeting glance, but at least he knew she didn’t appear to be like him. A ghoul. It took some time getting used to the slang when the first tourists appeared in Sierra Madre couple of decades ago. He was still Dean Domino. Lack of skin did not change who the man was inside. Maybe, just maybe, it made it more apparent.
He understood the need to be covered head-to-toe in protective gear in a place that had a habit of killing its visitors at every corner, twist, alleyway, catwalk, roof, room and toilet. The very air of Madre could kill. But why wouldn’t she dignify him and raise her visor when they spoke was beyond him. As a matter of fact, it was infuriating. And it became infuriating the moment he had noticed that she had, in fact, revealed her face whenever talking to the mutant.
A bit of professionalism wouldn’t hurt when you have to look at your partner in the eye and shoot them.
Not that he was planning any of that. Yet. He had other things to focus on.
“What are you so possessed of collecting that requires of you to look under every staircase?” He asked when she just slugged her drink down, like it was some kind of third-rate cider, and kept on looking over her pip-boy. She glanced up and showed him.
F!Courier/Dean Domino - A Heist - 2a
I’ll also try to stay on course for the OP’s prompt, but Dean does what Dean wants to do. He might just run off chasing the ladies at the Tops when I’m not looking :P
*-*-*
It was a welcomed break. Tense as all hell, but still welcome. Sierra Madre didn’t offer much opportunity for rest outside of that safe haven Dean had cultivated over the years. Not that ‘safe’ and ‘Madre’ could possibly exist in the same sentence, or the same universe for that matter, Dean pondered while mixing drinks, a foul-smelling concoction that it was.
As he pulled out couple of glasses he glanced at where she had leaned against the bar and under the light of the hologram spread out all the paper and holotapes she had found so far. It wasn’t too bad to have someone watch his back, he mused; and having a partner was, for a heist of this size, a must for him to pull it through. The potential bother that she was roped into being his partner didn’t even begin to make a step across his mind. After all, charm and a bit of persuasion here and there were required to get his previous partner to commit fully to the heist. What he hadn’t counted on was the old man, who had shackled him into such a demeaning position as well.
Dean didn’t consider himself particularly fussy. He would take what he could get. Until the opportunity presented itself and he could get something better. One step at the time, and a patience of a veteran safari hunter was how he worked.
She raised her helmet a bit so she could take a drink. He took notice of it instantly. He could see her lips, dried and cracked but nicely shaped, and there was a thin scar snaking around her chin. She still had all her teeth – that he could see – and that surprised him. He wouldn’t think that anything like dental hygiene still existed, never mind the constant dangers of living involved. Thick shadow covering upper part of her face left quite a lot to the imagination. For all he knew she could have a peeled off and cleanly polished skull from her nose up.
It was a fleeting glance, but at least he knew she didn’t appear to be like him. A ghoul. It took some time getting used to the slang when the first tourists appeared in Sierra Madre couple of decades ago. He was still Dean Domino. Lack of skin did not change who the man was inside. Maybe, just maybe, it made it more apparent.
He understood the need to be covered head-to-toe in protective gear in a place that had a habit of killing its visitors at every corner, twist, alleyway, catwalk, roof, room and toilet. The very air of Madre could kill. But why wouldn’t she dignify him and raise her visor when they spoke was beyond him. As a matter of fact, it was infuriating. And it became infuriating the moment he had noticed that she had, in fact, revealed her face whenever talking to the mutant.
A bit of professionalism wouldn’t hurt when you have to look at your partner in the eye and shoot them.
Not that he was planning any of that. Yet. He had other things to focus on.
“What are you so possessed of collecting that requires of you to look under every staircase?” He asked when she just slugged her drink down, like it was some kind of third-rate cider, and kept on looking over her pip-boy. She glanced up and showed him.