Sorry for the long wait guys, but I was trying to do a bulk of several chapters at once. I'm not really, fully satisfied with this one but the two really need to get their asses to the Casino already. Hope you enjoy the read!
:*.*.*.*.*:
In the subsequent hour on their way to the second terminal, Dean had noticed that the Courier had taken to lovingly perusing all the articles each of the vending machines they had encountered had to offer.
At least there was one thing about women that not even the bomb could change. He liked that. It gave him some solid ground to stand on in the world gone mad with change.
That wasn’t to say he wasn’t well aware that the world and people had changed. Madre sure has. And its inhabitants… don’t even get him started with that. The problematic thing was, knowing that people have devolved into wild tribal savages was far, far different from having to work with one. Having his life be tied to one of them. Dean hadn’t liked it when his life had depended on his chauffeur’s inane driving skills – how he managed to be on time, and in one piece, on half of his concerts will forever remain a mystery now.
And now, he was in position to rely on different type of chauffeur to get him from one end of the decaying deathtrap of a resort to the other. As her shadow slinked forwards, guiding him with that god-awful certainty he very much felt like he was a pet freshly brought from the store trailing at the heels of a much hardier survivalist.
Always at the front she was. The leading lady. The front line. The first one in. A good place to croak, in Dean’s opinion, so he wasn’t complaining – not at all!
…Much.
The same feeling he felt in the café coiled around in his belly like an iron chain. And iron chain with a ball and leashed to his neck.
:*.*.*.*.*:
Any encounter with the Ghost People was bound to be grisly already. Right now, and much to his chagrin, it had also grown in abundance. He warned her that too much noise would get them all stirred up, but did she listen? Of course not! In addition to having ridiculous fascination with vending machines, women never listened. He could easily believe that he was back at one of those cocktail parties with frilly feathers and enough opium permeating the air to stifle a mammoth.
Dean resented that analogy. And the one before that. In fact, he resented plenty of analogies he had been coming up with recently. She was giving him good material to resent too. Like now, how by all accounts – her accounts – the building with the second terminal wasn’t too far off, about one third of the district away, to the right and a floor up. She knew that because her Pip-boy had caught on an energy signal in that specific location. So she had explained to him with a jumble of words he’d likely need a dictionary but would still have to smile and nod in a polite society. He wasn’t tech savvy as he wished – bits and pieces that kept him alive – and he suspected that the postman had caught on to that.
“Finally,” the Courier exclaimed making a full stop so Dean bumped into her, a moment before digging forward ahead of him. Not hard when he was determent to walk behind, with his hands in his pockets, sulking silently but never admitting to doing so. “That took a while.”
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timeasmymeasure
F!Courier/Dean Domino - A Heist - 7a
Date: 2013-04-19 11:57 am (UTC)Hope you enjoy the read!
:*.*.*.*.*:
In the subsequent hour on their way to the second terminal, Dean had noticed that the Courier had taken to lovingly perusing all the articles each of the vending machines they had encountered had to offer.
At least there was one thing about women that not even the bomb could change. He liked that. It gave him some solid ground to stand on in the world gone mad with change.
That wasn’t to say he wasn’t well aware that the world and people had changed. Madre sure has. And its inhabitants… don’t even get him started with that. The problematic thing was, knowing that people have devolved into wild tribal savages was far, far different from having to work with one. Having his life be tied to one of them. Dean hadn’t liked it when his life had depended on his chauffeur’s inane driving skills – how he managed to be on time, and in one piece, on half of his concerts will forever remain a mystery now.
And now, he was in position to rely on different type of chauffeur to get him from one end of the decaying deathtrap of a resort to the other. As her shadow slinked forwards, guiding him with that god-awful certainty he very much felt like he was a pet freshly brought from the store trailing at the heels of a much hardier survivalist.
Always at the front she was. The leading lady. The front line. The first one in. A good place to croak, in Dean’s opinion, so he wasn’t complaining – not at all!
…Much.
The same feeling he felt in the café coiled around in his belly like an iron chain. And iron chain with a ball and leashed to his neck.
:*.*.*.*.*:
Any encounter with the Ghost People was bound to be grisly already. Right now, and much to his chagrin, it had also grown in abundance. He warned her that too much noise would get them all stirred up, but did she listen? Of course not! In addition to having ridiculous fascination with vending machines, women never listened. He could easily believe that he was back at one of those cocktail parties with frilly feathers and enough opium permeating the air to stifle a mammoth.
Dean resented that analogy. And the one before that. In fact, he resented plenty of analogies he had been coming up with recently. She was giving him good material to resent too. Like now, how by all accounts – her accounts – the building with the second terminal wasn’t too far off, about one third of the district away, to the right and a floor up. She knew that because her Pip-boy had caught on an energy signal in that specific location. So she had explained to him with a jumble of words he’d likely need a dictionary but would still have to smile and nod in a polite society. He wasn’t tech savvy as he wished – bits and pieces that kept him alive – and he suspected that the postman had caught on to that.
“Finally,” the Courier exclaimed making a full stop so Dean bumped into her, a moment before digging forward ahead of him. Not hard when he was determent to walk behind, with his hands in his pockets, sulking silently but never admitting to doing so. “That took a while.”