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Stronger than death itself 7c/?
Date: 2012-05-14 10:00 am (UTC)Amanda nodded. “It’s just me and the brahmin otherwise. I need a caravan guard.”
“Makes sense.” Without looking at her, Frank snubbed out his cigarette butt in the ash tray. “Any particulars?”
This time it took Amanda a little more time to answer; trying to keep her lack of skills a secret would be futile as soon as they were on the road, and she opted instead for honesty. “I’ve never been allowed use of a gun in my life so far.”
Both men looked up at her sharply and blinked a few times.
“Jesus”, Steve finally blurted out. “You don’t need a guard, you need a babysitter.”
Amanda felt a hot blush creep onto her cheeks. “Look, it’s not my fault my parents didn’t teach me to fight and didn’t allow anyone else to do so. My brother James tried to amend that, but it’s damn hard to teach someone to shoot when you’ve got to be stealthy about it. I know a fair bit about close quarters combat, but...”
“It’s unlikely we’d get into any kind of bar brawl out there in the fucking Wasteland”, Frank fell in, his voice bar of emotion.
“I know!” Amanda forced her jaws to relax. “That’s what my brother tried to tell them too, but they knew better apparently.” She angrily wiped her eyes. “Good strategy for keeping me safe, leaving me completely defenceless.”
“Look, kid. I meant no offence. I was surprised, to put it mildly.” Steve cleared his throat and took another drag of his smoke. “Now I know you oughta be saying only good things about the dead, but that was...”
“I know. Rather stupid.”
None of them said anything for a moment.
“I can see why you’d need two guards”, Frank finally said after lighting up another cigarette. He offered Amanda the pack and she was just about to decline before she shrugged and took one. Frank lit it up for her and, after a cautious drag and a suppressed cough, Amanda stared at the cigarette and leaned back in her chair, contenting herself with just puffing the smoke instead of trying to inhale it. “You might as well say it. Steve was right: I do need a babysitter.” She made no attempt at keeping her frustration from her voice.
“You know kid”, Steve said after exhaling a slow cloud. “If you don’t like something, change it. Get yourself a gun and we’ll see if we can’t teach you to use it properly.”
Amanda looked up with a frown. “You’d do that?”
“Why not? It’d be in everyone’s best interest.”
“Does that mean you’ll take the hire?”, she asked with a tiny smile.
Frank and Steve exchanged a short look of puzzlement before the latter grinned. “Seems like it.”
“I’m not completely useless, I’ll have you know”, Amanda said after tapping off her ashes. “Apart from preparing food and mending clothes, I’m a pretty apt scavenger, good at tinkering and salvaging useable parts from derelict machinery and the like. I’m good at picking locks and fairly decent at hacking into security terminals.”
“Well that’s something”, Frank said and lifted his bottle. “You can’t be good at everything.”
Both Steve and Amanda lifted their bottle in return and the clinked them together to seal the agreement.