Asking Amata was laughable. She already turned the gang down multiple times when they propositioned her and Jo was always there to rescue her. Like that time right before the G.O.A.T. All she did was march up right to Wally and somehow convinced him to back off. She never even talked to him. She was the Overseer’s daughter and he knew that was a dry well; the crazy old bastard probably locked her up tight with a chastity belt that needed a DNA sample to get through it.
Jo, on the other hand...well, she uh. He wasn’t sure what to think. She’d been looking decent these days, sure. Still chubby, still goofy with her glasses. But now he was taller than her. Hell, almost everyone was – not that she was that small. Her freckles were almost all gone and now when she let out one of those rare smiles toward Amata he saw a dimple on the left side of her face. Her hair tied back into a single ponytail and still the biggest rack in the entire vault. But the best part of her metamorphosis...well, that was that she wasn’t dead silent any more. She talked and showed more feelings, and wasn’t too shy to lay it on him when he really ticked her off. It made him laugh when she got all riled up.
He watched her routine when Amata wasn’t around. She’d read a little bit, then head on to her terminal where she typed away while staring at the green screen for hours. He’d hacked into there a few times – wasn’t too hard when he practiced with the whole password thing. He found out that she liked to write. Silly things, too. Romance stories. They were so unrealistic and hilarious but whenever she fleshed out the main character...it was always her in some kind of guise. He got pissed off because Jo imagined herself with so many imaginary males when he was right there and perfect for her because he was Butch Goddamned DeLoria.
Anyway, back on point. He decided to approach her. Get under her skin – it was what he was good at, after all. She was transferring some files from the classroom to the clinic and he stopped her midway, walking just fast enough so that he could interrupt her long, calculated strides. He grinned at her when he saw the annoyance twist behind her usually apathetic expression.
“What do you want?”
“Oh, nothin’. Just wondering how my favorite Nosebleed is.”
“You’re irritating me. Why don’t you go bother someone else?”
“Why? You don’t want the Butchman’s presence? Bask in it while it lasts.”
“Sure. There’s something else on your mind, and before you ask, I’m not interested.” He stared at her. When he couldn’t figure out a reply, she turned to him and sighed in exasperation. “Either you came here to ask me out for Paul or for yourself. I know the dance is coming up. But I know that Paul already asked Christine; I’m not stupid. So why else would you be bothering me right before? You don’t have a date. And sorry, but I do.”
All of that was...whoa. He lifted a hand to comb back his hair to keep him grounded and remind him that yeah, this was reality. He’d never heard her say such a mouthful and explain things from her point of view to him, but...
“Yeah? Who you goin’ with? Wally?”
“No. Amata agreed to go with me.”
He laughed. “That ain’t a date.”
She seemed to deflate but kept her pace. “So then I was right. You were here to ask me.”
“Me? Ask you? I gotta get a hold of what chems you’re doing because that’s hilarious. Why would I ask you? Bet if I asked Christine or Susie they’d drop their loser dates and hang with me because I’m the king, baby. I don’t need a second rate gal like you to take with me.”
“Then do it. And leave me alone.”
He lingered in the hallway when she turned into her apartment, the door slamming shut in his face. Spotting a rare abandoned Nuka-Cola near the trash can, he reared back and gave it a hard kick, the bottle flying across the hallway and shattering on the opposite wall. She always knew how to make an ass out of him. And what the hell was with her? She sure was defensive and quick to say no to him. What did he have that she hated so much?
Re: FLW/Butch - Complex - [7/?]
Jo, on the other hand...well, she uh. He wasn’t sure what to think. She’d been looking decent these days, sure. Still chubby, still goofy with her glasses. But now he was taller than her. Hell, almost everyone was – not that she was that small. Her freckles were almost all gone and now when she let out one of those rare smiles toward Amata he saw a dimple on the left side of her face. Her hair tied back into a single ponytail and still the biggest rack in the entire vault. But the best part of her metamorphosis...well, that was that she wasn’t dead silent any more. She talked and showed more feelings, and wasn’t too shy to lay it on him when he really ticked her off. It made him laugh when she got all riled up.
He watched her routine when Amata wasn’t around. She’d read a little bit, then head on to her terminal where she typed away while staring at the green screen for hours. He’d hacked into there a few times – wasn’t too hard when he practiced with the whole password thing. He found out that she liked to write. Silly things, too. Romance stories. They were so unrealistic and hilarious but whenever she fleshed out the main character...it was always her in some kind of guise. He got pissed off because Jo imagined herself with so many imaginary males when he was right there and perfect for her because he was Butch Goddamned DeLoria.
Anyway, back on point. He decided to approach her. Get under her skin – it was what he was good at, after all. She was transferring some files from the classroom to the clinic and he stopped her midway, walking just fast enough so that he could interrupt her long, calculated strides. He grinned at her when he saw the annoyance twist behind her usually apathetic expression.
“What do you want?”
“Oh, nothin’. Just wondering how my favorite Nosebleed is.”
“You’re irritating me. Why don’t you go bother someone else?”
“Why? You don’t want the Butchman’s presence? Bask in it while it lasts.”
“Sure. There’s something else on your mind, and before you ask, I’m not interested.” He stared at her. When he couldn’t figure out a reply, she turned to him and sighed in exasperation. “Either you came here to ask me out for Paul or for yourself. I know the dance is coming up. But I know that Paul already asked Christine; I’m not stupid. So why else would you be bothering me right before? You don’t have a date. And sorry, but I do.”
All of that was...whoa. He lifted a hand to comb back his hair to keep him grounded and remind him that yeah, this was reality. He’d never heard her say such a mouthful and explain things from her point of view to him, but...
“Yeah? Who you goin’ with? Wally?”
“No. Amata agreed to go with me.”
He laughed. “That ain’t a date.”
She seemed to deflate but kept her pace. “So then I was right. You were here to ask me.”
“Me? Ask you? I gotta get a hold of what chems you’re doing because that’s hilarious. Why would I ask you? Bet if I asked Christine or Susie they’d drop their loser dates and hang with me because I’m the king, baby. I don’t need a second rate gal like you to take with me.”
“Then do it. And leave me alone.”
He lingered in the hallway when she turned into her apartment, the door slamming shut in his face. Spotting a rare abandoned Nuka-Cola near the trash can, he reared back and gave it a hard kick, the bottle flying across the hallway and shattering on the opposite wall. She always knew how to make an ass out of him. And what the hell was with her? She sure was defensive and quick to say no to him. What did he have that she hated so much?