“…Dean…” she started, resisting the rising tide of wanting nothing more than to toss him towards the point he was preparing to make and was taking the long, red carpeted way around, but at the same time knowing by now how that was not a way to handle Dean Domino. Because to handle Dean Domino was to handle a bouquet made of sticks of dynamite with a long fuse. “If you’d kindly share anything you might have noticed at that time, it would be a fantastic help to open the casino.”
He pointed, to a wall tucked in between constricted streets and a row of archways, thick, red fog clogged the path... “Through there,” …and a narrow but still decently man sized hole at the end of it.
“Thank you…”she said, properly, tightly, squeezed it through her teeth if one had a good ear, and quickly turned on her heel. That he riled her up wasn’t what bothered her. That he managed to rile her up and so obviously intended to do it from the very start, did. The question of what she had done to rile him up, was steadily becoming paramount. She needed to avoid any confrontation so long as this bomb was hanging around her neck. Once those were off, all bets would be off along with them.
They had to reach the second floor and path up was obstructed by only a few traps and before few minutes passed they were out in the open once more. Elijah’s unmistakable voice came soon through her pip-boy.
:You’re at the Ghoul’s Gala are… now make him stay.:
“So this is where I’m supposed to put on a show? Played at better venues, let me tell you.” Both of them walked over to a single cable stretching across the rooftop. A lone spark pranced on one end of the torn cable. “What is that there… wiring? Looks… looks like it’s tied to the sound system in the Villa, except that snipped section.”
Nurse passing the scalpel indeed. The girl sighed and pushed the helmet up a bit to rub her eyes. Elijah was going to kill them all at this rate.
“So… what, I stand here, hold the two ends in my hands and tap them together like cymbals?” She heard him call behind her, sneer and anger wrapped in one package.
“If re-connecting the speaker system is part of the Gala Event, yes,” she turned pulling the visor down.
“Look…” he gestured wide at the rooftops, the area around them and his usually so controlled voice cracked just a notch with panic welling up at the possibilities. “I strike up the speaker system, there’s going to be ghosts all over this place. Any change in the sounds around here… the Ghost People are not big on talking, they are big on listening. Hunting. Killing. More vicious than music critics, trust me.”
“All right, what’s it going to take?”
“Take?” He repeated insulted, as if she was offering his some meager penny for one of his most prized, most expensive shows. “It’s not going to take anything because you couldn’t offer me anything to stay here. The Ghost People’ll come out of the woodwork when the Gala Event starts blaring, and when they see me trapped up here? It’s curtains for Dean.”
Or they might lose their appetite at the mere sight of him and go back to the holes they crawled out from, was her line of thought. Figuring he wouldn’t appreciate her views, she kept them to herself.
“We’ll set traps and hunt down those that are around. Will that make you feel safer?”
“No, you want to know why? Because there’s more beneath the streets, in the buildings, and oh – everywhere else.” He flared crossing his arms in pure defiance – or in fear at the mere thought of staying here alone for prolonged periods of time. “Listen, you could offer me a steel clad contract for a world tour for all the major cities with Imperial Records and I still wouldn’t stay here!”
The Courier turned away from Dean’s fume and spit and old world references she couldn’t quite decipher, and looked over the expense of the district. Fog of rust rubbed against them as it did against the buildings, slowly, languidly, like a perverse lover clutching and never letting go. It had blocked most of their view but from what little the Cloud allowed them to see she came to one conclusion, “I sense an awful lot of backtracking in the near future.”
F!Courier/Dean Domino - A Heist - 4c
He pointed, to a wall tucked in between constricted streets and a row of archways, thick, red fog clogged the path... “Through there,” …and a narrow but still decently man sized hole at the end of it.
“Thank you…”she said, properly, tightly, squeezed it through her teeth if one had a good ear, and quickly turned on her heel. That he riled her up wasn’t what bothered her. That he managed to rile her up and so obviously intended to do it from the very start, did. The question of what she had done to rile him up, was steadily becoming paramount. She needed to avoid any confrontation so long as this bomb was hanging around her neck. Once those were off, all bets would be off along with them.
They had to reach the second floor and path up was obstructed by only a few traps and before few minutes passed they were out in the open once more. Elijah’s unmistakable voice came soon through her pip-boy.
:You’re at the Ghoul’s Gala are… now make him stay.:
“So this is where I’m supposed to put on a show? Played at better venues, let me tell you.” Both of them walked over to a single cable stretching across the rooftop. A lone spark pranced on one end of the torn cable. “What is that there… wiring? Looks… looks like it’s tied to the sound system in the Villa, except that snipped section.”
Nurse passing the scalpel indeed. The girl sighed and pushed the helmet up a bit to rub her eyes. Elijah was going to kill them all at this rate.
“So… what, I stand here, hold the two ends in my hands and tap them together like cymbals?” She heard him call behind her, sneer and anger wrapped in one package.
“If re-connecting the speaker system is part of the Gala Event, yes,” she turned pulling the visor down.
“Look…” he gestured wide at the rooftops, the area around them and his usually so controlled voice cracked just a notch with panic welling up at the possibilities. “I strike up the speaker system, there’s going to be ghosts all over this place. Any change in the sounds around here… the Ghost People are not big on talking, they are big on listening. Hunting. Killing. More vicious than music critics, trust me.”
“All right, what’s it going to take?”
“Take?” He repeated insulted, as if she was offering his some meager penny for one of his most prized, most expensive shows. “It’s not going to take anything because you couldn’t offer me anything to stay here. The Ghost People’ll come out of the woodwork when the Gala Event starts blaring, and when they see me trapped up here? It’s curtains for Dean.”
Or they might lose their appetite at the mere sight of him and go back to the holes they crawled out from, was her line of thought. Figuring he wouldn’t appreciate her views, she kept them to herself.
“We’ll set traps and hunt down those that are around. Will that make you feel safer?”
“No, you want to know why? Because there’s more beneath the streets, in the buildings, and oh – everywhere else.” He flared crossing his arms in pure defiance – or in fear at the mere thought of staying here alone for prolonged periods of time. “Listen, you could offer me a steel clad contract for a world tour for all the major cities with Imperial Records and I still wouldn’t stay here!”
The Courier turned away from Dean’s fume and spit and old world references she couldn’t quite decipher, and looked over the expense of the district. Fog of rust rubbed against them as it did against the buildings, slowly, languidly, like a perverse lover clutching and never letting go. It had blocked most of their view but from what little the Cloud allowed them to see she came to one conclusion, “I sense an awful lot of backtracking in the near future.”