She blinked rapidly, not sure how to react since the only thing keeping their current position from being a lovers embrace was the fact that her arms were hanging limply at her sides. “Uhhh...” She was proud that she even got that syllable out given the fact that staring into his hazel -though from this close she could see that they were contained more green than brown- eyes was making it really hard to think let alone form words and-
“Down boy,” Cass laughed, clapping a hand down on either of their shoulders. “You can't do that to this one Les, you'll short circuit her.” The Courier had come back to herself enough to glare at the woman, and Cass had enough of a buzz going that she didn't give two fucks about said glare. “Roxy here isn't that good with people so how about you set her up the special.”
“'The special?'” King repeated, clearly disappointed.
“Trust me on this one, she's a total gear-head, she'll love it,” she replied.
“Okay... we'll boys,” two men with pomade coated hair appeared from seemingly nowhere, “Please escort Miss Yearling to a private room and get her set up with the special.” The two men nodded before hooking an arm through either of Six's and leading her into the next room.
The voices of her friends and the hosts faded the further they went, but before they were totally out of range she could hear the King's distinctive drawl lament, “It's a damn shame, a pretty little thing like her being into bots...”
'Into bots?' Roxy thought, What does he mean, 'into bots?' Like 'bots' as in robots? Her brows furrowed in confusion. Wait. As in... as in sexbots?! Her mouth fell open at the realization. Oh my fuckin'- I'm going to fuckin' kill Cass. *-*-*
“Please assume the position.”
Roxanna stared at the sexbot, eyebrow arched. Under different circumstances she would've found this hilarious, but considering the fact that she was the one being propositioned... not so much.
“Fisto is programmed to please.” It vibrated a pincher as if to emphasize this point. That earned a laugh.
“Fisto, eh?” the Courier mused out loud as she leaned in close to the bot, but not close enough to look as if she were trying to 'assume the position.' “What does that stand for?”
The protectron's head light blinked rapidly for a moment, looking for an answer to her question. “Fisto: Fully Integrated Security Technotronic Officer,” it finally replied.
'Officer', right, figured as much from the paint job. Wow, they must've repurposed the hell outta it. Her inner techy came out then, prompting her to lean in closer still. I'd sure like to crack this baby open and get my hands on its hardware...
Fisto seemed to take her interested look as an invitation. Its pincers spun for a second before vibrating again. “I am programmed for your pleasure.”
Roxy leaned back then, nose crinkling. “Somehow I don't think that was always your job buddy.”
Fisto blinked at her some more, clearly confused with the whole situation, and rightly so. He'd probably been at this gig for years now and she could safely assume that none of his... customers... had ever been up for much conversation. “Numbness will subside in several minutes...” The words sounded more like a question than a statement.
“Oooo-kaaay,” she didn't even want to know why they felt the need to program that particular little gem in, nor did she want to find out. “So, Fisto, you're here for my pleasure?” It redoubled its vibrating efforts. “How's about you let me root around in your noggin then? That would bring me maximum pleasure.”
“...Fisto is programmed to please...”
“Awesome!” she laughed, cracking her knuckles. Fisto approached her, pincers still vibrating. “Stop that,” she ordered. The sexbot obeyed. “If you promise to keep those things to yourself, I'll promise to be gentle...” *-*-*
New Vegas Host Club (1e/?)
“Down boy,” Cass laughed, clapping a hand down on either of their shoulders. “You can't do that to this one Les, you'll short circuit her.” The Courier had come back to herself enough to glare at the woman, and Cass had enough of a buzz going that she didn't give two fucks about said glare. “Roxy here isn't that good with people so how about you set her up the special.”
“'The special?'” King repeated, clearly disappointed.
“Trust me on this one, she's a total gear-head, she'll love it,” she replied.
“Okay... we'll boys,” two men with pomade coated hair appeared from seemingly nowhere, “Please escort Miss Yearling to a private room and get her set up with the special.” The two men nodded before hooking an arm through either of Six's and leading her into the next room.
The voices of her friends and the hosts faded the further they went, but before they were totally out of range she could hear the King's distinctive drawl lament, “It's a damn shame, a pretty little thing like her being into bots...”
'Into bots?' Roxy thought, What does he mean, 'into bots?' Like 'bots' as in robots? Her brows furrowed in confusion. Wait. As in... as in sexbots?! Her mouth fell open at the realization. Oh my fuckin'- I'm going to fuckin' kill Cass.
*-*-*
“Please assume the position.”
Roxanna stared at the sexbot, eyebrow arched. Under different circumstances she would've found this hilarious, but considering the fact that she was the one being propositioned... not so much.
“Fisto is programmed to please.” It vibrated a pincher as if to emphasize this point. That earned a laugh.
“Fisto, eh?” the Courier mused out loud as she leaned in close to the bot, but not close enough to look as if she were trying to 'assume the position.' “What does that stand for?”
The protectron's head light blinked rapidly for a moment, looking for an answer to her question. “Fisto: Fully Integrated Security Technotronic Officer,” it finally replied.
'Officer', right, figured as much from the paint job. Wow, they must've repurposed the hell outta it. Her inner techy came out then, prompting her to lean in closer still. I'd sure like to crack this baby open and get my hands on its hardware...
Fisto seemed to take her interested look as an invitation. Its pincers spun for a second before vibrating again. “I am programmed for your pleasure.”
Roxy leaned back then, nose crinkling. “Somehow I don't think that was always your job buddy.”
Fisto blinked at her some more, clearly confused with the whole situation, and rightly so. He'd probably been at this gig for years now and she could safely assume that none of his... customers... had ever been up for much conversation. “Numbness will subside in several minutes...” The words sounded more like a question than a statement.
“Oooo-kaaay,” she didn't even want to know why they felt the need to program that particular little gem in, nor did she want to find out. “So, Fisto, you're here for my pleasure?” It redoubled its vibrating efforts. “How's about you let me root around in your noggin then? That would bring me maximum pleasure.”
“...Fisto is programmed to please...”
“Awesome!” she laughed, cracking her knuckles. Fisto approached her, pincers still vibrating. “Stop that,” she ordered. The sexbot obeyed. “If you promise to keep those things to yourself, I'll promise to be gentle...”
*-*-*