In the north west of the Mojave wasteland...with the wind howling and the sand swirling. A ghoul and a courier wade out the red sand storms.

"Well...?"

"Hell, I don't know boss, few hours maybe." That old Mexicana voice drawled into a wrinkled rotten palm.

"You'd know more about them than I would. The north doesn't get them all that much, at least I've never seen them like this until now." The scratchy female voice perked up in reply, trying to keep a conversation going with the ghoul that was currently pinching a bit of dead flesh on his chin between two fingers. She looked at him breifly, only feeling a little disgusted at what he was doing. She turned her eyes to the entrance, watching as the sand gusted outside through rusted holes along the metal walls and inbetween cracks around the edges of the shed. She wouldn't say it out loud but Raul's shed was a piece of shit…

"Eh, they don't last any longer than a day." Again that dirty south of the border voice came out of Raul. She had to admit she liked the sound of it the more he trekked along with her. It was a good idea she mentioned he come with her.

"mmm..", she made a mumbled sound in acknowledgment to his statement. It had been no more than five minutes since the sand storm started and she was already itching to move around. By her nature she found she couldn't sit still for very long. Even getting to sleep was sometimes difficult to manage; however, at the thought of sleep she yawned - making a loud tired sound that almost out climbed the noise from outside.

A 'click' sounded and the dim room flooded with yellow light; a nice change from the darkening rusty shed. She turned to see Raul's mutilated arm pulling away from a desk lamp. He gave her a small smile, or was that just the way he always looked? He always seemed to have a little curve to his lips due to the depressions in his cheeks and the cracks around his mouth. Regardless she smiled back and watched him lean back in his stool against the wall to start tinkering with an old cracked clock.

The black and blue veins in his fingers slid a little along his fingers as he turned a screw driver between a few filthy cogs, flicking grim out and digging back in between them with a bit more ease. A piece of glass from the clock face fell on his pant's leg and her eyes followed it. She'd realized she was fucked up the moment she wondered what was lurking under the jumpsuit a couple weeks ago, now she thought the same thing – but with a little more perversion than before.

She averted her eyes just in time to avoid the Mexican ghoul catch her staring. She was sure he'd caught her a few times before but seemed too polite to say anything – for that she was thankful, very thankful.

Outside the wind hammered and shook the shed for all it was worth before settling down enough to at least let her self resume thinking.

She picked at her fingers, pulling off dead skin and dirt from under the thin short nails. While doing this she realized again, for the second time that day how badly she needed a shower. Inside her pockets and with all the crap she had Raul carry, they both had enough for separate rooms on The Strip with hot running water and enough food to make them both puke. It was an indulgent though that managed to make her even more antsy than she was before.

She started tapping her boots together, picking now at the fabric on the worn out old cot in the corner that she'd found a little more comfortable than she'd thought.

"Calm down boss, not like we'll be stuck here forever." He chastised her as he placed a ruined 'something' on the work table. It looked like it at one point had been some kind of bolt. She frowned, but stopped even though the itch to move kept nagging at the tips of her toes and fingers.

"Can't handle this shit Raul, I can't stay still….not when there's nothing to doo..", even she knew she was whining, yet Raul wasn't someone she needed to act tough around at this point. Not when he'd already seen her puke from something as small as nerves….No, you didn't need to act tough in front of man that's already seen that.

She groaned at the memory and banged her head back against the metal with a small amount of force.

"You working with the wind to knock my abode down now? Is that it?"

She scoffed when he gave out that coughing chuckle, to then pop out another useless part from the clock and let it roll on the floor against the sole of her shoe. She caught it on the side of her shoe and kicked it to the other with some amusment. She started rolling it from foot to foot after a couple clumsy attempts.

"Come on, cheer up."

She stared at the lug nut rolling before her and put on a fake one second smile before frowning again and giving the nut a harder kick, sending the bit of metal off near the entrance. "Ugh…just shoot me now." She growled and tossed herself on her back, letting the dust puff up around her and settled against her face and clothes as she stared up at the meshed ceiling.

"I can do that boss, or I can just give you these magazines to read and save us both the hassle." As usual she could almost feel the amused smile on his worn face. She didn't flinch – well, not that much – when a bundle of mags were tossed on her. Most were old Mexican comics in Spanish and one was a early issue of Fixin' Things.

"How very entertaining…", she drawled and looked at the strips in the comics, putting the pieces together poorly.

Just when she was getting into the fight scene between La Fantoma and La Cruz Torcida a loud shattering bang clamoured through the shed.

"Shit!"

She bolted up into the corner, hugging the magazine to her chest with a wide panic stricken expression. Her little heart beat like a jack rabbit between her ribs as her eyes darted around the walls of the room. It sounded like a piece of metal had come off and hit the shed like some kind of atomic missle.

She turned her blank stare to Raul as he picked up the clock she hadn't heard him drop, looking about as normal as she could have imagined anyone looking if a sound like that had just shook their 'abode'. He started to stand, placing the clock on the table and started checking out the structure of the shed.

"What the fuck was that?"

He shrugged, tapping on an area of the shed that was closer to her than it was him. It sounded a little more hollow than it should have she guessed, cause his face turned into one of annoyance.

"Well that's no good.", he said it without much worry so she exhaled a sigh and let the comic slide down to her stomach. The last thing she wanted to do was die in a collapsing shed by a shit-tastic sand storm after surviving a .38 to the head. She could almost hear Mr. New Vegas broadcasting such a bit of news...

"Are we fucked?" She asked with a little wary, almost not even wanting him to answer her.

"Naw, not with me around." Again he gave her that hacking type laugh before squatting down with elbows on his knees to look at the splayed out magazines he'd tossed her earlier. "Haven't bothered reading these in awhile." He pushed a few off each other and picked up a very weathered comic, a similar one to the one she had been looking at before the fucking bang. "Which one you reading boss?"

"Reading?", she laughed and placed the comic over her lap, opening up to the spot she'd been at. "You really think I can read Spanish? Hell…I can barely speak proper English."

"Eh, that one's not very good anyways."

She watched as he sank back down near the old cot, pushing against the metal wall and opening up the mechanic's magazine. With the moment at hand she pretended to be looking at the comic in her lap as she watched the ghoul read. She watched how he turned the pages and how the murky eyes shifted over the paragraphs. She'd never known many ghouls before. In fact Raul was the first she'd said more than a few words to. He was rather fascinating and despite the stigma they had he didn't smell any worse than she did.

After a few minutes she'd rested her head against the wall to continue her little visual exploration. All she could really see was from his neck up and his forarms down. What skin he had left was pale and dull – the only things having much color were the faded tint of his exposed muscles and the light blue veins scattered over them.

He'd, after awhile, told her a lot about himself, but nothing more than what you'd tell to someone you'd been traveling with for a couple months. He was a pre-war ghoul though, and that alone was extremely interesting. It was like she was looking at someone who knew everything, though that was stretch of course…

Another rattle echoed around the shed and she stiffened. Raul looked over at her, holding a weird look as if he was checking up on her or something.

The room felt a little awkward all of a sudden and she instinctually cleared her throat and started concentrating on the images on the pages below her.

When the room started to darken more, with the setting sun outside, she flicked her Pipboy light on and removed it to set down between the two of them. It gave off a nicer glow than the cheap yellow bulb in the far corner. On a second thought she leaned over and switched the radio on, putting it on low.

She stayed pressed over the Pipboy as Mr. New Vegas' voice came on with that sweet charismatic tone lulling on about "that special someone you only find once". Raul too had put his magazine down and was either staring at her or the Pipboy as 'Blue Moon' came on. It was her favorite song and she knew Raul knew it too. She'd sung along to it many times; comically of course. This time it didn't seem appropriate to try and mimic Sinatra's deep voice.

Instead she just leaned against the metal wall and looked back at the ghoul as he looked back at her. The awkwardness had kinda crept back up on her and it was odd how anticipated it felt. The wind howled around the shed and the song honked on with a soft vocal, despite the sax in the background. Soon it faded into a Bing Crosby song that managed to turn the atmosphere down as Raul looked back at his magazine.

Normally he'd say something to lighten the mood. In a way Raul was just as charismatic as Mr. New Vegas, in that he always managed to keep her at ease. He always managed to lift the air with a light hearted statement. She often wondered if he took anything all that seriously...and she also wondered if that was always the way he was or the trait just started to develop after being alive for so long.

"So…guess you didn't get that thing workin'?"

For a moment he looked a little confused as he peered up from the mag, then he shrugged one shoulder and started to scratch at an exposed part of his skull. "No..don't think dropping it help any boss."

Finally that odd laugh started and she smiled, feeling a little easier now. It was like a comforting vibration that settled in her chest - kinda like the feeling she got when she was a kid.

"What are you going to do now?", she said it casually but as soon as it left her mouth she realized it sounded a little rude – like she didn't want him to be reading with her. Her eye waited for any sign that he'd taken a bad impression on her words. For a moment his face remained passive; normal then his eyes turned away.

She watched him grin a little, "Too ugly to sit next to, huh, boss." It hadn't been a question and that made her frown. She immediately shook her head and gapped like a little fish…

"No…I guess I just….ugh." She didn't know what to say, but it didn't seem like she really needed to make excuses for herself. Raul never seemed offended at anything, even when she had a slip of the tongue the first time they'd met. Maybe he'd just lived so long that things like that didn't bother him any. She didn't know, it was hard to imagine being alive for so long and through so many big changes…

"Calm down boss. Stress out over the wind if you need to, but don't stress out over ol' Raul."

He got up though, and she felt herself wincing as he trudged over to his work bench again to start turning the bashed up clock in his hands again. She felt stupid just looking at him start picking at the dirt around the chipped red paint. Maybe she was just over thinking what she'd said; what he'd said, but she still felt like she'd offended him some how – even if he acted like she hadn't. He'd still be sitting with her if he wasn't secretly offended, right?

She scooted down on the cot and laid on her side with one hand against her jaw as she turned the page to her comic, trying her hardest not to think about it any further – besides, it was comforting just hearing him tinker away at the clock as she looked at the pictures. At first she'd been uncomfortable at the prospect of being cooped up in his shed, but now it didn't seem all that bad - kinda nice, actually.

The radio went along; song after song until she found that sleep was rolling upon her. Before consciousness slipped away for the night a scratchy warmth enveloped her and a blurry figure that smelled much like a certain Mexican ghoul pushed a few strands of hair from her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed and everything turned into a comfortable dark absence.

"G'night boss.."

So, little more dialouge than I'm used to. What do you think? Might turn this into a longer fic or I might cut right to down and dirty. Either way you know I'm gonna add some filth...

Please review if you got the time. Kinda need some feedback (not used to doing many non-Charon ficlets)