That's when the kid bursts out of the tent, eyes wild. "Where are they?" he shouts. "I'll fight every last one of 'em, so help me God!"
Beatrix is on him in an instant, knocks his feet out from under him and loops an arm around his neck, putting him into one of those restraint holds, easy-as-you-please. The kid's cussing and spitting and clawing at her, but she's got him good, the expression on her face almost serene as she casually applies pressure to his windpipe, which shuts him up good.
The King is there in a heartbeat, hands raised in a placating gesture. In the same moment, Julie emerges from one of tents, unflappable as ever. She strides across the courtyard calmly.
"That's enough, Beatrix," she says musically, and the King knows her well enough to hear the laughter concealed in her voice. Beatrix eases off, just enough so the kid can breathe, if not talk. He's red-faced and spluttering, madder 'n a wet hen. He stopped to put his jacket on before he stormed out of the tent, and that little detail immediately endears him to the King, even before he manages to get another word out. "Let him go," Julie says, and Beatrix complies.
The kid jerks away from her, straightens his jacket and smooths his hair before he glares around the compound, still looking for someone to fight. "Where am I? Who the fuck are you?"
The King steps in, introducing himself before Julie has a chance to do it for him. "You're in the Followers Compound in Freeside, outside of New Vegas. That's Doctor Julie Farkas and Beatrix Russel. I," he says, perhaps a little grandly, "am the King."
Butch/The King, "Jailhouse Rock," 2b/?
Beatrix is on him in an instant, knocks his feet out from under him and loops an arm around his neck, putting him into one of those restraint holds, easy-as-you-please. The kid's cussing and spitting and clawing at her, but she's got him good, the expression on her face almost serene as she casually applies pressure to his windpipe, which shuts him up good.
The King is there in a heartbeat, hands raised in a placating gesture. In the same moment, Julie emerges from one of tents, unflappable as ever. She strides across the courtyard calmly.
"That's enough, Beatrix," she says musically, and the King knows her well enough to hear the laughter concealed in her voice. Beatrix eases off, just enough so the kid can breathe, if not talk. He's red-faced and spluttering, madder 'n a wet hen. He stopped to put his jacket on before he stormed out of the tent, and that little detail immediately endears him to the King, even before he manages to get another word out. "Let him go," Julie says, and Beatrix complies.
The kid jerks away from her, straightens his jacket and smooths his hair before he glares around the compound, still looking for someone to fight. "Where am I? Who the fuck are you?"
The King steps in, introducing himself before Julie has a chance to do it for him. "You're in the Followers Compound in Freeside, outside of New Vegas. That's Doctor Julie Farkas and Beatrix Russel. I," he says, perhaps a little grandly, "am the King."