“Who is he?” Boone demands quietly after the Courier falls asleep again.
“I don’t know,” Raul answers evasively.
“Bullshit,” Boone snaps. “You talk to her about him. She hallucinates that you’re him. That piece of paper she carries around like a god damned rosary has his name written on it. Who. Is. He?” Arcade puts a hand on Boone’s arm in an effort to soothe him, but he shrugs it off. He shoots a guilty look at Arcade, and so Arcade leaves him alone. Raul sighs before answering.
“I met him about fifty years ago. I made my way to a place called The Capital Wasteland.” Arcade shoots a look at Courier, and she looks more like James when she’s asleep. “I think that’s where Courier’s from. If so, it’s a wonder she made it out here. The Capital Wasteland is a godless, lawless land. Everything is dead, and people would kill one another over a bottle of clean water. At least, they did when I was there last.”
“And Charon?” Boone prompts.
“A ghoul. He worked for a slimly bastard named Ahzrukhal down in Underworld. He didn’t talk much, but from what I could gather Ahzrukhal has just bought his contract. Some sort of brain-washing keeps him bound to whoever holds that slip of paper. I don’t know how Courier met him, just that she did.”
“And now she thinks he’s dead,” Arcade murmurs. Boone shifts uncomfortably, all of his previous anger dissipated. He takes a seat next to Courier’s bed, and a weak smile breaks over his face when ED-E begins to play soft music.
“You guys can go to sleep,” he croaks. “I’ll watch her.” Arcade nods, and Raul hesitantly pats Boone’s shoulder before leaving the room as fast as his old legs can carry him.
“You sure?” Arcade asks. Boone nods.
“Yeah.” Arcade walks toward the other bed in the room, and collapses on it. Boone slumps over in his chair, and his hand reaches out to grasp hers. Her skin is still unbearably hot, even with the dose of Med-X.
Arcade watches Boone watch Courier until he finally drifts into unconsciousness.
Keep Your Composure 15b/?
“I don’t know,” Raul answers evasively.
“Bullshit,” Boone snaps. “You talk to her about him. She hallucinates that you’re him. That piece of paper she carries around like a god damned rosary has his name written on it. Who. Is. He?” Arcade puts a hand on Boone’s arm in an effort to soothe him, but he shrugs it off. He shoots a guilty look at Arcade, and so Arcade leaves him alone. Raul sighs before answering.
“I met him about fifty years ago. I made my way to a place called The Capital Wasteland.” Arcade shoots a look at Courier, and she looks more like James when she’s asleep. “I think that’s where Courier’s from. If so, it’s a wonder she made it out here. The Capital Wasteland is a godless, lawless land. Everything is dead, and people would kill one another over a bottle of clean water. At least, they did when I was there last.”
“And Charon?” Boone prompts.
“A ghoul. He worked for a slimly bastard named Ahzrukhal down in Underworld. He didn’t talk much, but from what I could gather Ahzrukhal has just bought his contract. Some sort of brain-washing keeps him bound to whoever holds that slip of paper. I don’t know how Courier met him, just that she did.”
“And now she thinks he’s dead,” Arcade murmurs. Boone shifts uncomfortably, all of his previous anger dissipated. He takes a seat next to Courier’s bed, and a weak smile breaks over his face when ED-E begins to play soft music.
“You guys can go to sleep,” he croaks. “I’ll watch her.” Arcade nods, and Raul hesitantly pats Boone’s shoulder before leaving the room as fast as his old legs can carry him.
“You sure?” Arcade asks. Boone nods.
“Yeah.” Arcade walks toward the other bed in the room, and collapses on it. Boone slumps over in his chair, and his hand reaches out to grasp hers. Her skin is still unbearably hot, even with the dose of Med-X.
Arcade watches Boone watch Courier until he finally drifts into unconsciousness.