a/n: good god, this is the second story I've written about a fallout man in a dress. this kink meme is giving me a complex. please to be enjoying the crack! -
"Welcome home! So GOOD to see you!"
The overly enthusiastic cheer of Yes Man caused all of Lucky 38's occupants to look up from what they were doing. Veronica paused at the terminal where she was seated, the clacking of her feverish typing coming to a sudden halt.
Arcade, lounging in the kitchen area, put down the Sunset Sarsaparilla he was about to uncap, the glass bottle clinking faintly against the counter top.
Rex hopped up excitedly from where he had been curled on the courier's bed, snuffling miserably into his master's pillow. He gave a mechanical yelp of excitement, his cranium housing lighting up delightedly.
Cass pulled herself out of the empty bathtub she was laying in, rubbing her eyes blearily and kicking aside the two or twelve empty bottles of whiskey littering the bathroom tile. What? She was bored. It was a slow afternoon. Fuck off.
Veronica was the first to race to the front elevator, racing excitedly to meet with the courier. "Oh you guys are back! Finally! I was getting so worried about yoaaaAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
Her high pitched squeal was like no noise the scribe had ever made before. It was terrifying, inhumane- a cry of absolute horror. In a matter of seconds both Cass and Arcade were at her side, Arcade moving to stand in front of her and Cass pulling out the combat knife she kept holstered to her hip. "What in the hell is going on?" she bellowed. And Rex, poor had lowered himself to the floor, whining pathetically and looking from Veronica to the courier and back again, forehead scrunched in doggy confusion. Protect master, or protect nice-smelling-table-scrap-feeder? It was a terribly difficult decision for him.
"Hey! Seriously?" The courier had thrown up his hands in a pacifying gesture. " This is the welcome home I get? I should have stayed at the Sierra Madre, 'least the damn lobotomies don't screech at you." A rumble of affirmation from behind the courier alerted the other's to Boone's presence.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Drop Dead, Gorgeous [1/3]
Date: 2012-01-20 07:00 pm (UTC)-
"Welcome home! So GOOD to see you!"
The overly enthusiastic cheer of Yes Man caused all of Lucky 38's occupants to look up from what they were doing. Veronica paused at the terminal where she was seated, the clacking of her feverish typing coming to a sudden halt.
Arcade, lounging in the kitchen area, put down the Sunset Sarsaparilla he was about to uncap, the glass bottle clinking faintly against the counter top.
Rex hopped up excitedly from where he had been curled on the courier's bed, snuffling miserably into his master's pillow. He gave a mechanical yelp of excitement, his cranium housing lighting up delightedly.
Cass pulled herself out of the empty bathtub she was laying in, rubbing her eyes blearily and kicking aside the two or twelve empty bottles of whiskey littering the bathroom tile. What? She was bored. It was a slow afternoon. Fuck off.
Veronica was the first to race to the front elevator, racing excitedly to meet with the courier. "Oh you guys are back! Finally! I was getting so worried about yoaaaAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
Her high pitched squeal was like no noise the scribe had ever made before. It was terrifying, inhumane- a cry of absolute horror. In a matter of seconds both Cass and Arcade were at her side, Arcade moving to stand in front of her and Cass pulling out the combat knife she kept holstered to her hip. "What in the hell is going on?" she bellowed. And Rex, poor had lowered himself to the floor, whining pathetically and looking from Veronica to the courier and back again, forehead scrunched in doggy confusion. Protect master, or protect nice-smelling-table-scrap-feeder? It was a terribly difficult decision for him.
"Hey! Seriously?" The courier had thrown up his hands in a pacifying gesture. " This is the welcome home I get? I should have stayed at the Sierra Madre, 'least the damn lobotomies don't screech at you." A rumble of affirmation from behind the courier alerted the other's to Boone's presence.