"Blue. Blue, talk to me."
She had been staring at the wall behind the bar for the last minute or so, her fingers alternating between tapping against the glass neck of the bottle and clenching it tightly, and didn't start until Piper poked her in the shoulder.
"Blue. I mean it. You've barely said two words since we've left the Den, and those were to Charlie over here." She gestured towards Whitechapel Charlie as he hovered in place and harrumphed, his bowler hat perfectly perched, and V couldn't meet her eye. "I think we're onto something here, something concrete, and all we need are a few more answers before we can finally get somewhere."
"Only a few?" The question wasn't supposed to come out sharp or bitter, but managed to cover both bases. "We're going on nothing, but maybes, Piper."
The sympathetic tone didn't wane, but she could see Piper purse her lips out of the corner of her eye. "You know how important those are. Sometimes they're the only things keeping you going, and now we need them more than ever."
"I get it, I really do, but...it's too easy to mess up maybes." V set the bottle down, and tried to swallow down the lump in her throat. "And I'm sick of running on those. I need more than that. Something solid for once."
"I know this isn't set yet, but imagine this. Just for a second. That we do end up with something solid. Names, places where Adam and the others have been taken to. It might seem like pointless hints and scattered facts, but it all leads back to the source. And once we have that, nothing will stop us from cracking the Institute wide open."
"It's all fine and good to think big, but we'll have a better idea of how to plan for that once we talk to Dr. Amari again," Nick said, his voice low. "She's damn good at helping others take trips down memory lane, but hopefully lady luck won't mind doing us a favor or two. Memory extraction's going to require some serious hardware, so hopefully what we brought to the table's going to be exactly what she needs."
Well, judging from her reaction to their request, V could already tell they failed right out of the gate.
A living breathing person was the ideal subject, and what had been left of Kellogg better resembled shit she'd scrape off of the bottom of her shoe. The satisfaction of making him pay, of putting the bullet in his head herself left a taste in her mouth bitter enough to make her retch, but in the moment she'd needed it. Needed it more than anything, as she readied her shotgun and run in close. Even if the information trapped in his head was worth so much more. The scattered bits of tech she salvaged from his remains were barely what she'd call functional, and if that ended up costing her Adam, she'd never forgive herself.
If that was that, they had no way of figuring it out until Dr. Amari said so, and while the Third Rail knew how to take the edge off, after thirty minutes, V was ready to climb the walls. The longer they sat there in those seats, the longer she wondered if they were going to stay there indefinitely. That thought alone made her want to hop up and make a beeline right for the Memory Den.
"…But," V said, testing the word, "difficult isn't impossible."
"Far from it, and who knows if we'll get the answers we want, but it'll be a start."
"A start?" She could feel Nick's eyes on her as she shifted in her seat. "You really think so, Nick?"
"No reason not to. We're playing it by ear and doing the best we can. No point in letting yourself believe otherwise."
"Glass half-full, and all that?" Her teeth worried at her lip until she was sure the skin was going to break. "It'd probably help if I knew what the hell I was doing, eh?"
"First off, we, and second, probably," Piper confessed, "but we're working on that. That counts for something, right?" She gave her shoulder a light squeeze before letting go. "Whatever's waiting for us we'll figure out piece by piece. I know we will."
A smile inched its way onto V's lips, and she leaned over to bump Piper's shoulder with hers. "And here I thought you were the endless source of optimism, Nick."
"Who, me? Yeah, I'm a regular ray of sunshine," he replied, lighting up a cigarette. "But she's right. And we will save your son. Some way, somehow."
"And we've been waiting here long enough, don't you think?"
"Yes," she said, making the bar stool beneath her screech along the floor as she stood up. "You took the words right out of my mouth." Eying the half-finished beer on the bar she considered downing it, but didn't have the stomach to finish it. Nervous tension was starting to creep in bad, making every motion unsteady. "And if not, I'll just pace around the upper level while Amari keeps on working, because I can't handle this. Just...not knowing."
The three headed right for the stairs leading up, and while Piper dodged them, V had the luck to clip one of the two men making their way down.
It wasn't a hard collision, but the harsh stare aimed at her made her hands fly up out of reflex. Now was not the time to run her mouth, or time any improvements to her draw speed, especially not with the firepower he and his friend seemed to be packing. Going right about her business, she muttered a quick apology, and continued on her way up.
Sneaking a look over her shoulder, she watched them disappear into the VIP section nestled to the right of the bar, and let out the breath was holding. If there was a bullet to dodge, that was it.
"Anyone that comes back twice in one night's got to be in the mood for something different," Charlie drawled upon her returning alone. He swept right over, and two out of his three mechanical limbs reached for a set of bottles. "Something special."
V eyed the small corkboard propped up behind him, the one that mentioned a special, but didn't describe it, and raised an eyebrow. "Want to tell me what's in it?"
"Does it matter?"
She turned the thought over in her head for a few seconds before giving him a rueful smile. "No, not at all."
Piper tried to tail her after leaving the Den, her concern matching Nick's, though his steps were too unsteady to catch up, but she waved her off. Told her to stick with Nick until he was okay enough to get to the Rexford for the night, because as much as she might've wanted to talk it out, the urge to drink was of higher priority. Selfish as it was.
Kellogg's thoughts didn't blend with hers, not like with Nick, but they lingered. Showed her more than she ever needed to know about him, and she wished she hadn't seen a damned thing. It was easier to keep on hating every shred of him that way.
And seeing Adam, safe, and happy would've made her quake in her seat if she had the ability. He teleported away to the Institute in a beam of light, and much as she willed herself to reach out and grab him, all she could do was swipe at the air.
But she had her mission now. If she wanted Adam back, she needed someone able to crack that kind of device, and there was no better source than a former Institute scientist. The fact that he was literally in the hottest zone in the area was a cause for concern, but she'd crack it. She swore she would, and she was certain she knew exactly who to seek out, because she was going to need a hell of a lot of Rad Away to keep from keeling over.
Before she dove in, however, Preston was going to need to hear every last detail of this. She had no clue how long she was going to be wandering around out there, and if something happened, she didn't want any of the Minutemen, or people at Sanctuary waiting for word only to get nothing. In that same vein, the Brotherhood needed to hear from her as well, and that meant reporting in. Formally.
With Danse the rundown was easy. Did you accomplish your objective? Did anything act to impede you? What creative solution was applied? And yes, it mattered if it involved high explosives.
The final point she elaborated on from time to time, often just to see what expression it would earn in response. The poor guy was so tightly wound it wasn't even funny, and if she scored even a hint of a smile it was worth it. But at the end of the day she didn't have to do a careful dance to tell him what was exactly on her mind.
The elder was another story. Not only was he nothing close to the wizened old man she assumed he would be – elder was supposed to mean elder – Elder Maxson almost always made her want to bite her tongue so she'd stick to the essentials. Her old CO had been similar, regarding her with a critical eye that an ugly mix of pride and stubbornness begged her to challenge, but in the end he had earned her respect. Maxson demanded that, that much was obvious. But as on edge as he put her, she wouldn't accomplish much if she kept on avoiding him – or Danse, for that matter.
Guilt curled in her stomach as she thought about the Paladin keeping an eye out for her on the deck. How proud he looked after presenting her to Maxson, and how that same pride reflected in his tone shortly before they touched down at Fort Strong. Weeks had passed since climbed onto the nearest Vertibird after giving Danse a rushed - and admittedly sloppy – salute, but even then he'd still managed to give her that damn look. Even if she was positive that he could read her unease.
She'd played the good soldier before. Had done a pretty good job of it too, so settling back into that routine should've been second nature. The order, routine, and structure it brought had been nothing short of a relief after stumbling around – alone – those first few days. Now all she had wanted to do was get her feet back on the ground again; to get some damn air even if she was nowhere near the cryo chamber she'd clawed her way out of.
It would come in time, she supposed. That same grounding feeling she'd felt once Danse asked if she would consider joining up, but seeing the Prydwen overhead, walking on the deck with that many eyes on her? Her chest tightened at the memory. It was too much. Too much to deal with all at once.
She wanted the Institute to pay, and the Brotherhood promised to send them to hell and back, but the kind of war they were promising on the Commonwealth was...staggering. What they asked of her, of any of their followers, she wasn't sure she could do. Not to synths like Nick, ghouls, or others she hadn't even met yet.
She imagined Troy sitting next to her at that bar, watching her carefully as she clenched her fists tight, and wished she could hear him say just the thing to undo the knots her nerves were tying themselves into. Wished she could feel the familiar, warm weight of his hand on her shoulder as it rested there.
Can I do this? Her thumb grazed the wedding band on her finger, spinning it in place. I don't know if I can do this.
You're kidding me, right? A small smile played at his lips. There's nothing you can't do.
"You ready for another?"
Whitechapel Charlie made another round about the bar, skimming back and forth at an easy speed that told everyone that he wasn't in a rush at all, and she idly watched him until a loud 'ahem' left his vox. Placing her palm flat on the counter, she took in a slow breath and let it out. "Why not? Mind doubling that this time, Charlie?"
"If you're buying, I won't mind at all."
She slid the caps across the counter, and Charlie went straight to work. With two shakes and a twist, she was presented with a full glass of the mystery substance – she suspected it was mostly whiskey – and took a tentative sip.
Shit. She almost coughed, but proceeded to take a larger drink.
"Hey, Chuck-"
V nearly choked when the voice by her piped up. The man to her right had been in the middle of rapping his knuckles against the wooden counter, but paused to raise his eyebrows. Coughing into the back of her hand, she tried to compose herself long enough to force another sip of the stuff down her throat, but it only made the effect ten times worse, leaving her squeezing her eyes shut while she tried to stomach it.
"You know if you kill the new customers, they're not likely to come back, right?" She cracked open an eye only to see the tentative smirk on the guy's face bloom into a full one. "Bad for business."
"Oy, you buying, or going to keep on taking up space? That sort of thing's bad for business too." Charlie jabbed a sawblade in his direction, and didn't bother to hide any of the annoyance creeping into his tone. "Buy a beer or leave. Your choice."
"Yeah, yeah," the man muttered, tugging at the brim of his hat before slipping a hand inside of his ragged duster.
Aiming a sour look his way, she took to studying him, only to pause when she caught the rifle slung across his back. Merc, but one that seemed to be light as hell on his feet. The bar was far from quiet, but she hadn't heard two steps from him as he moved to join her. The bullets stashed on his hat and thigh should've clued her in first to his occupation, but she gave herself a pass. Hacking up a lung made it pretty damn tough to size up other people, but other than that, he didn't carry much. Just what she guessed were the essentials, and she made sure to tear her eyes away before he noticed.
"Seeing as you're still here, and still finding ways to piss me off, I gather your services weren't needed?"
"Nope. I'd be long gone if that were the case," the man said. "And missing you terribly, buddy. No one else around pushes the beers like you, and I'd keep 'em coming if I could."
"Lay off, already. The prices ain't changing."
He sighed dejectedly. She guessed he must've been waiting in the back area, the spot for VIPs where those two men went earlier. There was a clink, and she let her eyes drift right again. Mr. Merc glanced her way, his attention resting on her Pip-Boy long enough for her to draw her brows together, and she wished she had the forethought to draw her hat low like his.
"One more for you, guv?"
To help with the awkward pseudo-company? "Sure, why not?" She shifted her gaze back to Charlie, but grabbed for the glass before he could hook it. "But let's stick with something a bit tamer."
"Like a single?"
"Like a single," she repeated, and still had a feeling she wasn't going to be happy in the morning.
The drink was prepared quick and neat, and the glass barely touched her lips before Charlie spoke up again. "Now that you're all liquored up and ready to go, how about we talk some business?"
The merc perked up, and she had to admit, her curiosity wanted to bite. "Business? Like?"
"Like a proposition in need of a dirty girl, that can do a dirty, dirty job."
"Excuse me?" V choked out, her voice rising.
Charlie kept on going without missing a beat. "Lots of bodies, lots of blood, a bit of a rough mess for a rough sort. And you look like you know how to handle yourself."
"Oh, come on, Chuck. You're killing me," the merc groaned, throwing his hands up. "You just asked me how business was looking knowing it was in the toilet, and you're pulling this?"
"No regulars, MacCready."
"I'm an 'irregular' regular at worst."
"Well, maybe you should've thought about that before pissing on the offerings here. Our lovely lady here's been drinking it just fine."
With her dignity semi-regained, she flashed MacCready a thumbs up, and Charlie spun towards her.
"We've had a rat problem recently in our warehouses. One that's left the workers feeling anxious, and while we've been able to handle it before, it's gotten to the point that we can't ignore it any longer." He set the glass down, and pivoted in place until he was facing her. "Three warehouses. The catch? It has to be done tonight. New traders are coming into town, and we need to ensure that both the supplies, and the dealers won't suffer from any…incidents."
That was a damn tiny window, but doable. "Uh, sure, but we're aren't talking people-sized rats, are we?" she asked, flashing Charlie a confused look.
"No, but they're still rats," he spat, "and I'm looking for an exterminator. One with a very specific set of skills."
The man next to her rolled his eyes. "You want her to shoot a lot of people. Just tell it like it is, Chap."
"Don't remember asking for your opinion on things, so why don't you drink up or piss off?"
"Who is it this time? Gunners? Triggermen? Does it even make a difference?"
"You bet it does," she insisted. Know your enemy, or at least know enough about them to decide what to pack. The laser rifle and 10 mm she had on her were handy, sure, but there were some problems only a well-timed grenade or missile could solve. "Any difference definitely counts, and it's only polite to know who I'm going to be getting my hands dirty for as well."
And if it involved civilians at all, she was going to down the rest of the stuff in her glass and double-time it back to the Rex. Even if that left her stumbling all the while.
"I'm not supposed to say. I handle the business end of things, but let's just say that someone high up would be paying close attention to how you handle things."
"How high?"
"As high as it gets around here. The mayor appreciates anything done to make the town less...unpleasant to the locals."
"The mayor?" She blinked over at Charlie, recalling in stark detail how Hancock dealt with the last disturbance in Goodneighbor. Rather quick and to the point. But she recalled the conversation they had as well.
"You know I had that handled, right?"
"Yeah, I'm sure you did," he drawled, glancing back at her before walking away, "but who's to say the next person will? Or the next? Or the next...? You've got to think ahead, and not just about yourself."
That left her feeling conflicted. Seriously conflicted. "And the target?"
"Triggermen. That put you off?"
"Not at all," she replied, still a bit mystified as to who they were.
But she needed the distraction - and the money if she was being honest - and if Hancock was backing it, his clout wouldn't hurt. Pissing off the mayor wasn't exactly on her agenda, and this would go towards preventing that.
"And you're offering….?"
"Two-hundred caps."
"For a job that needs to be done literally the minute I walk out of here? Calling it real close, aren't you?"
"Work's work, but if the urgency's putting you off, maybe three-hundred'll make it worth it."
That was not the kind of response she expected from her dare, and she struggled to keep the surprise from showing on her face. "Three-hundred?"
"Three-hundred caps. That appealing enough for you?"
The merc swore under his breath. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was her unexpected company's aggravation, but after hearing Whitechapel Charlie's offer, she rested her chin on her hand and let just enough of a pout grace her face to be convincing.
"Come on, Charlie. You want the girl, you've got to put up the goods to get her. If these are the kind of rats that might be a recurring problem, I'm going to need the right number to make sure it doesn't happen again."
Charlie's large, blinking eyes zeroed in on her for a good long minute, before he huffed, "Four-hundred caps, guv, and you're not seeing any more than that."
"Deal." The man beside her swallowed hard, and she took a long sip of her drink before flicking her eyes back to Charlie. "Now that's something to drink over. Wanna pour me another?"
MacCready shifted so that he was facing her, and placed his right arm on the counter. "If you're going in there alone, you're dead."
"Don't be so dramatic." His next move blocked her from her glass, and she rolled her eyes before reaching over him to grab it. The movement made it slosh, and she tried to keep her own swaying down to a minimum. "I'm armed."
"And well on your way to eating the pavement at the pace you're going. That's going to work out swell with five Triggermen swooping in on you, going with the old spray and pray," he said, twisting his mouth into a frown.
Taking in a slow breath, she wet her lips and set the glass down. She was dimly aware of the way MacCready's leg kept bouncing as he sat on the stool beside her, and when she met his stare, she wasn't surprised by the strength of it.
"Look, I get that you could probably stamp the word tourist on my forehead judging from how I've been acting for the last half-hour, but if you've got something to say, say it."
"You're at the Rail. People only come here for three things, drinks, Magnolia," he gestured towards the singer who was belting out a low verse, "and work. And as much as Charlie pushes it, the beer isn't the kind of quality stuff you'd let good caps go for. Unless you're looking for the kind of wasted that leaves you hungover and worked over. You want that, you're golden."
"Well, shit," she muttered, pushing her glass away from her, "looks like I'm halfway there already. But what if I'm not so keen on waking up like that?"
He leaned forward a fraction, his eyes sharp. "Well, then you're here for business. The kind that needs a good eye, and an even better shot. And with the way you keep on shelling out caps for liquor, I figured I'd better hit you up sooner rather than later."
Her hand twitched, moving towards the spot in her jacket that she was stashing her caps, and she let out a huff. Stupid move. "Let me guess. You're the kind of guy that can take a fly off of a horse's ass at a hundred yards, right? A real shooting ace?"
MacCready gave her an odd look for a few seconds, and shrugged. "More like two. Or three, but yeah. Can snipe a bloatfly, bloodwing, anything you can name off of...anything else you can name."
"Anything?"
"Lady, I'll shoot a helmet off of a jolly green giant if that'll convince you otherwise. No skin off my back. Might even do it for free."
"And you won't just rob me blind shortly after I say yes? Or just pop one right between my shoulder blades the minute my back's turned?" she asked, canting her head to the side.
"Nope. This is an actual binding contract, not the fast and loose shi-" he paused, flinching like he bit his tongue. "The crap that the Gunners usually pull. You point, I'll shoot, and at the end of the day we'll both come out satisfied. You gonna put a bullet in mine?"
"What? No!"
He snorted. "Right. Real outrageous question. But now that we've cleared that up, maybe we can get down to business."
Business. The word was so sure leaving his mouth that he earned her indignant squint on principle, but the longer he lingered there in that spot, the more she found herself going over her options. All of them left her catching hell in the morning from Piper and Nick.
…But she was going to be doing a lot of scavving to gather the materials needed to lead-line her power armor in the coming days. The extra gun around Sanctuary wouldn't hurt either.
Dammit. "Okay, I'll bite. How much?"
"Two-hundred and fifty caps, and no amount of pretty words'll lower it."
V laughed. Guy's got the whole pitch wrapped up nice and neat, doesn't he?
"You want in on this, even as protection detail? You're getting half, which leaves you with a neat two-hundred, take it or leave it. But if you want to stick with me after that," she said, pausing to wipe the liquor off of her chin, "you'll make up the loss."
"You're saying you'll take me on?"
"Right and proper, pending an outstanding audition. You rock my socks off playing exterminator, you're hired."
The muscles in MacCready's jaw worked as he sat there, tapping his fingers on the counter, and she half expected him to tell her to shove it. Instead, he reached for what was left of her drink and downed it.
"Deal."
Her eyelids felt like lead weights. Moving her right was nothing short of a Herculean task, and as she forced them up, she felt a deep, throbbing pulse in her head start.
"Enjoying the hangover?"
Aiming an eyeball in the direction of the voice wasn't easy, but shifting to get a better look didn't seem feasible. So she simply groaned, and buried her face deeper into the pillow. When the entire left side of her face began throbbing as well, she groaned louder.
"I'd let you lie there long as you like, but they'll be sending their version of room service our way soon, and I don't think they'll be happy to find you dozing for free on their dime. Either of you."
Okay, that's definitely Nick.
She forced herself up, wincing as she moved, only to notice Piper passed out beside her. The layer of blankets left only her head poking out, and V dazedly watched her snore away until it cut off sharply. She wrinkled her nose and mumbled something about red ink, but didn't move any further once she pulled the blanket tight around her.
Once she was sure Piper was settled, she finally moved her eyes towards Valentine. The candle next to him flickered, casting everything in a soft light, but even that took some time to adjust to. "Jesus, Nick. Did I just…come in and collapse here?"
"You sure did. Piper was already out like a light, but once I let you in, you put your gear down, and nearly passed out on the floor." He tapped his pencil against the small paperback crossword book he was marking up, and pointed the eraser at her. "And with that kind of dirt on you, you might've been better off."
That explained the bitter grit in her mouth, and the scuffed metal plates strapped to her arms and chest. The blood she wasn't happy about, but at least it was dry. Not a single bit of it had been shed, and even her hat was well within reach.
"Ugh." She made a face, and Nick chuckled in response. "Thanks for the heads up."
"Don't mention it."
"Hey, um…" She wet her lips, and looked at him. Really looked at him. "You okay? Yesterday when I left you weren't at hundred percent, and I, uh…I really shouldn't have left like that."
He set the pencil down, and reached for the cigarette he'd left burning in the ashtray. "There's no hard feelings here. All I needed was a minute to walk it off, and you looked like you needed some time yourself. Finding things out like we did's not easy, and if you need to clear your head for a moment, or five, you should."
"Maybe, but I shouldn't have cut out on you like that. Even if-" it was his voice that came out of your mouth "…No matter how out of it I was feeling. I couldn't have done any of this without you, and you deserved better than that. I'm sorry."
He watched her for a few seconds, his expression unchanging, and gave her a slight nod. "All right. But now that we're square, don't go worrying about it. Got it?"
"Got it," she said, giving him a sheepish grin. "You're way too decent for own good, Nick."
Nick returned it, and she wasn't sure how he managed it at times, but the gesture was just as warm as it would be coming from a person. "Now that you've had some time to comfortably sleep it off, how about you tell me where you picked up that shiner?"
Her fingers gently pressed against her cheek, and she sucked in a breath. It was swollen and tender, and she wasn't thrilled with the idea of getting a good look at it. When the hell was she smacked like that? It couldn't have been…?
"Looks clear." She moved further into the room, and reloaded her 10 mm as MacCready kept his back to the nearest wall. "Are you always this tense?"
"Nah, it's just hard to loosen up when your self-preservation instinct's blaring in your ears," he remarked, giving her a pointed look. Rifles weren't easy to maneuver in close quarters like this, but he hit his mark with every shot, and switched to a handgun when he wasn't able to. "Yours better not be broken, lady."
His voice stayed low, something that was probably wise, even with the shooting going on, but she could hear a pin drop in here now. The other two groups of wanna-be mafiosos had hardly wasted time before charging down the stairs to meet them, tommy guns blazing, but so far they had been through two floors of this warehouse only to find nothing. So, she shrugged, and rounded the corner to enter the next room.
The butt of the rifle swept up out of the corner of her vision, and connected with her face. Funny, she'd never known you could make a person see stars like that before.
"It's…a long story." One that had her swearing into the floorboards, while her new 'friend' cleaned house - but she did score a decent hit between obscenities. More than one if memory served her right.
"I got time. You?"
"Uh…look, Nick." She sat up, and scooted to the edge of the bed. "I need to make my way out to the Glowing Sea before any of this can be settled, but before that happens we need to head back to Sanctuary. I want you two to get a head-start."
Concern washed over his features immediately. "Without you? You sure that's a good idea?"
"I need time to gather more supplies. We've got a small stockpile going there, but I don't even know if half of it's going to help me stand up to the rads in the Glowing Sea. The Brotherhood might have some supplies, but if their answer's a solid no, I need to be able to scrounge this junk up myself." The next part she spit right out, because the longer she held onto it, the harder it was going to be to share. "I also hired someone. He seems capable, so it's not like I'll be out here sifting through the dirt by myself."
"After one night and some change?" Nick asked, raising his eyebrows. "You sure about this? Goodneighbor's got the right spirit when it comes to some things, but not everyone that walks through those doors buys into it."
"Nick. I mean it. I'll be fine. Besides, if he wanted to rob and kill me, he had a fine chance to do that last night. I was half drunk, and acting stupid and thought it'd be a great opportunity to take a job for the mayor."
"You wound up with a job from Hancock?"
"Yeah, I wasn't expecting that kinda twist either, and I'm roughly eighty percent sure that wasn't a drunken hallucination, so hopefully it all went towards a good cause?" Her fingers tapped away on her thighs as Nick gave her a flat stare, and she cleared her throat before moving on. "Anyway, it would've been too, too easy for the merc to leave me to my mess, but all he did was exactly what he said he was going to do. He watched my back, so I think I'll hold onto him for a little while longer. Could be handy."
Taking another look at Piper, she steadied herself to make sure the bed didn't move as she got up, and paced over to the desk Nick was sitting at. Sure enough, her weapons were resting there, and she started checking her 10 mm for any damage. Danse's laser rifle didn't show any sign of damage either, thank God. Hefting it to sit against her shoulder, she checked the scope, and used the strap to sling it across her shoulders.
"You two can also swing by Diamond City on the way back. I know Piper's missing Nat, and you should check in with Ellie. See how things are going. We'll kill two birds with one stone with this, then meet up at Sanctuary to figure out what our next step is."
"If you're set on that, I won't stop you, but…just watch yourself. We can't do much for you if we're miles apart."
V let her eyes drift towards the ground, and gave Nick a small pat on the shoulder before heading towards the door.
"She's not going to be happy that she missed you."
Her steps slowed, and she swallowed down the guilty feeling that started to bubble up. "You know Piper wouldn't let me leave this place alone otherwise," she whispered over her shoulder, "but I'll make it up to her later. I promise."
The sun was shining bright when she emerged, whatever parts of it were shining down over the large barriers surrounding Goodneighbor. Her sunglasses would've blocked it if it reached her, but that didn't stop her from tugging her hat down low as she checked the surrounding area.
After splitting the agreed upon caps up last night, she told MacCready to hang close to the Rexford the next day. Once she was able to scrape herself off of the floor, she'd come and get him, and only the post-fight adrenaline kept her coherent until the inevitable crash. A few people lingered outside, those going about their usual business, while others smoked, and she spotted a familiar figure in green sitting on one of the nearby benches.
She squinted at MacCready through the dark lenses, noting the hat, the rifle, and the same ragged duster as last night, and approached him slowly. His heel bounced in place, tapping out the same rhythm as the night before, and she didn't have to ask to tell he was antsy. It slowed once he realized someone was coming towards him, but once he looked her way and recognized her, he climbed to his feet.
"Morning." His eyes scanned her face, and once he found what he was looking for, he let out a low whistle. "Yep. Looks about as bad as I guessed it would be. You took that hit like a champ, by the way."
The deep bruise twinged in recognition, and she gave him a thin smile. "Morning to you too. So, MacCready's your name, right? We didn't have much time to schmooze earlier, but I figure now's as good a time as any to get it out of the way."
"Don't wear it out, but yeah. Robert Joseph MacCready, best gun for hire around." Looping his thumbs in his belt, he gave her a lazy grin, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "And lucky for you, I'm currently on your payroll. You got a name, boss?"
Boss?
Her sunglasses didn't hide the amused curl of her lips, but she figured that was okay. "Of course. V'll do, though."
"V? Like the letter?"
"Yeah. It's an old nickname of sorts. No big deal." She raised her Pip-Boy, and switched it over to the map. "You ready to do this thing?"
"Long as you're paying, I'm ready for anything."
"Good," she said, flashing him a wry grin. "I can work with that."