The motel room reminds James of her, and try as he might, he can’t stop his hope from consuming him. Nuka Cola Victories and Quartzes light up the room the way the lone light fixture cannot, and he swears he sees a Quantum hidden away among them. Books line almost every surface not meant for sleeping, and a single fedora rests on top of the wardrobe.
“Look, daddy!” she says, plopping a black fedora on her head. “I’m Sam Spade!” He smiles, and he swears he can see her ghoul body guard smile almost indulgently.
He shakes his head, and finds his voice.
“Whose room is this?” he asks. Cass and Veronica look at him warily before answering.
“A friend’s,” Veronica answers finally, while Cass busies herself with pouring the drinks. Israel sits in one of the decrepit chairs, his bones aching and joints popping. He looks lost, and James feels a jagged pain shoot through him. Israel has never looked lost in the entire time he has known him, and he finds himself frightened. Veronica moves over to help Cass, and James moves to sit by Israel’s feet.
“You can sit up here,” Israel grunts, but James doesn’t say anything, instead removing Israel’s shoes. “Don’t do that. My feet are filthy.”
“They also must be killing you,” he replies, rubbing the arch with his thumbs. Israel stifles a groan of appreciation.
“What are you doing?” Veronica leans over to whisper in Cass’ ear. “We don’t even know these men.” Cass tops off one of the glasses, and hands it to Veronica.
“Courier taught me to make friends,” she says simply. “Look at them. The sadness practically rolls off of them. The least we can do is make them a drink,” she says, taking a deep swig of whiskey. “Take these to them, will ya, sweetheart?” Veronica nods, and numbly hands the men their drinks. The ghoul, James, smiles and thanks her. He pinches Israel’s calf, and the man grumbles out a ‘thank you’ before taking a swig. Veronica watches his throat muscles clench, and hears James ask,
“So, what brings the two of you out to Novac?” His voice is slightly strained, like he is trying to weasel some sort of information out of them. Veronica shoots him a wary look.
“Our dog,” she answers quietly. “Rex. He’s a cyberdog that needs a new brain.” James tsks, and says,
“How unfortunate. Will he get better with the transplant?” Cass snorts, pouring him another glass before he’s even finished his first one.
“He sure will. Can’t say the same for her though.” Veronica elbows her sharply, and she yelps. “What?”
“Can’t say the same for who?” James asks, and feels the cold steel of a powerfist press against his face. Israel growls, aiming his plasma rifle at her and Cass emits a loud,
“Whoa, whoa you son of a bitch!” Cass pulls her gun out, and gives Veronica a troubled look.
“You’ve been awfully interested in us,” Veronica says. “Why? Who are you working for?” James opens his mouth.
“No one.”
“I doubt it. You know what? I don’t even want to know. Get out. You’re not getting Courier.”
Keep Your Composure 19/?
“Look, daddy!” she says, plopping a black fedora on her head. “I’m Sam Spade!” He smiles, and he swears he can see her ghoul body guard smile almost indulgently.
He shakes his head, and finds his voice.
“Whose room is this?” he asks. Cass and Veronica look at him warily before answering.
“A friend’s,” Veronica answers finally, while Cass busies herself with pouring the drinks. Israel sits in one of the decrepit chairs, his bones aching and joints popping. He looks lost, and James feels a jagged pain shoot through him. Israel has never looked lost in the entire time he has known him, and he finds himself frightened. Veronica moves over to help Cass, and James moves to sit by Israel’s feet.
“You can sit up here,” Israel grunts, but James doesn’t say anything, instead removing Israel’s shoes. “Don’t do that. My feet are filthy.”
“They also must be killing you,” he replies, rubbing the arch with his thumbs. Israel stifles a groan of appreciation.
“What are you doing?” Veronica leans over to whisper in Cass’ ear. “We don’t even know these men.” Cass tops off one of the glasses, and hands it to Veronica.
“Courier taught me to make friends,” she says simply. “Look at them. The sadness practically rolls off of them. The least we can do is make them a drink,” she says, taking a deep swig of whiskey. “Take these to them, will ya, sweetheart?” Veronica nods, and numbly hands the men their drinks. The ghoul, James, smiles and thanks her. He pinches Israel’s calf, and the man grumbles out a ‘thank you’ before taking a swig. Veronica watches his throat muscles clench, and hears James ask,
“So, what brings the two of you out to Novac?” His voice is slightly strained, like he is trying to weasel some sort of information out of them. Veronica shoots him a wary look.
“Our dog,” she answers quietly. “Rex. He’s a cyberdog that needs a new brain.” James tsks, and says,
“How unfortunate. Will he get better with the transplant?” Cass snorts, pouring him another glass before he’s even finished his first one.
“He sure will. Can’t say the same for her though.” Veronica elbows her sharply, and she yelps. “What?”
“Can’t say the same for who?” James asks, and feels the cold steel of a powerfist press against his face. Israel growls, aiming his plasma rifle at her and Cass emits a loud,
“Whoa, whoa you son of a bitch!” Cass pulls her gun out, and gives Veronica a troubled look.
“You’ve been awfully interested in us,” Veronica says. “Why? Who are you working for?” James opens his mouth.
“No one.”
“I doubt it. You know what? I don’t even want to know. Get out. You’re not getting Courier.”