Vin still distrusted Mr. House and this abode he had bestowed to her, but the holiday décor and merriment made the space into something almost cozy. Courtesy of Veronica and her task distribution among the group, the Lucky 38 suite had transformed into a festive space over the course of a few days. Strings of lights hung along the edges of the doorways, and a large faux Christmas tree sat at one corner of the rec room. Music drifted from the radio, adding to the atypical noise and chatter.
She lingered in the foyer with a full glass of cider in hand, tucking her long brown hair behind her good ear to pinpoint everyone's location. Lily's booming voice announced freshly baked cookies from the kitchen, and Arcade walked out at that moment to make eye contact with Vin and vehemently shake his head. A corner of her mouth lifted, and she raised her glass to him as he headed for the rec room. Veronica darted about from room to room, ensuring everyone was enjoying themselves, or, in Boone's case, at least looking less brooding than usual.
The alcohol seemed to have loosened a few tongues—Cass's loudest of all—and Vin settled on listening to Raul's stories of his gunslinger days as she leaned on her shoulder against one wall of the foyer. Boone sat at the opposite end, shades and beret in place as he maintained his seeming annoyance with the event. He had propped his elbow on his knee, his chin in his palm, and he hadn't moved from that position in the past twenty minutes. Vin remained uncertain whether he simply disliked this downtime or whether he was watching after her.
She stared down into her untouched cider. She wanted to taste it, but feared its potential burn on the wound inside her mouth, which her teeth had inflicted during her last seizure a half hour ago.
The plan to retaliate against Benny still hadn't come to fruition. Her arrival to New Vegas had introduced a new multitude of problems and tasks she needed to deal with. But at least now, the Tops was within her reach. After this Christmas affair, she intended to pay him a visit, pay her "respects," and pay him back for the bullet that had ruined her.
That was a fucking promise.
As the evening wore on, everyone eventually ended up in the foyer to chat. Vin had abandoned her cider in favor of purified water, and she strained to listen to all the conversations since people felt too touchy about forcing her to talk when she should be resting (according to Arcade). She wished they didn't consider her so fragile—after all, she did wield multiple firearms on a daily basis—but in all honesty, the seizure earlier had left her exhausted.
Just then, the tunes stopped as the music switched to a different program.
"Ladies and gentlemen, you're listening to me, Mr. New Vegas, and have I got a special holiday treat for you," the charismatic male voice declared from the radio.
"Who the fuck is this Mr. New Vegas, anyway?" Cass demanded as she slammed back her sixth cocktail. "'Cause with a voice like that, I'd bang him. An' I don't even hafta be drunk for it."
"How charming," Arcade drawled from his seat near the refreshment table.
"What?! I said I don't hafta be drunk!"
"I just came upon some sound footage from a year ago of a rising Mojave starlet," Mr. New Vegas continued. "Name unknown, but boy did she have a voice!"
Vin rolled her eyes. Just play the damn music already.
"She was discovered winning a singing competition in Freeside last year, so I bring to you this mysterious girl's version of the classic holiday hit, Santa Baby!"
Every process in Vin's body froze the instant the singer's voice filled the room. Her companions quieted down at the lilting quality, allowing the song to flow unhindered to her working ear. She gripped her bottled water a bit too tightly as the air left her lungs, which no one noticed as they listened with interest to the radio.
Finally, once the sequence ended, Mr. New Vegas came on again to deliver his closing words.
"Hope all you wonderful people out there enjoyed that little gem. And mysterious girl, if you're out there hearing this, please step forward and share more of that voice with the world. You could be big!"
The bedroom door slammed shut behind Vin. She stood shaking in place for a few seconds before stomping over to her desk and plopping into the chair. Holding her head in her hands, she ignored the person who entered several minutes later.
"Mind telling me what that was about?" Boone asked as he closed the door and came to hover at the other side of the desk.
Vin's shoulders tensed. "No. Yes. Just… let me have some time alone. I'll come back to the party, I swear."
However, he didn't move.
Instead, she heard him take a seat somewhere to her left, and they lapsed into silence both awkward and comfortable.
After a while, Boone shifted in apparent discomfort and said, "You know, you always ask me about my past. Dreams and goals and everything. I guess I should have asked about yours, too."
Vin raised her head and sent him a dubious look. "I appreciate the gesture, Boone, but you don't owe me anything."
He peered at her through his shades before turning his face away and grunting. Another minute of stillness passed as the muffled sounds of festivity continued outside. She felt awful for shutting him out when he was trying so hard to reach out to her, but the turmoil gnawed inside her, leaving her mistrustful of herself.
"I had a mission once, back when I was stationed in California," Boone started, still staring off to the side. "It went sideways at first. We were routed, and 1st Recon ended up clashing with the enemy up close. Things exploded. Soldiers got hurt. I got a face full of sharp debris. Blinded me in one eye."
Vin gazed at him, stunned. She sat up straighter as his story engrossed her, one ear cocked in his direction.
"Didn't matter. I fought my way to a high vantage point. Aimed my rifle, and did what I do best. Most of us made it out alive," he declared. "The damage was repairable, and doctors fixed me up once we got back to base. But now I know having an eye out of commission wouldn't hinder my marksmanship."
Before she could say anything, he abruptly stood and headed for the door again. She furrowed her brow, trying to decipher the message in his account.
"Guess what I'm trying to say is, if you have the talent for something, don't let anything stop you from doing it," he said, glancing her way. "Whether it's losing the sight in one eye… or losing the hearing in one ear."
A lump formed in her throat as her eyes misted over, but the emotion stemmed from gratitude, not sorrow. "I… that is… thank you, Boone."
He gazed at her, expression as impassive as ever.
"And… you're right. Maybe down the road, my dreams will be attainable again." She brushed the backs of her hands across her eyes and gave him a weak smile. "I wanted to be a singer."
He nodded, his features softening. "We'll take Benny down. I promise you."
She watched him reach for the door handle. "Boone. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," he echoed, and paused. "Also… you had a beautiful singing voice. You will again. Remember that."
And then he was gone.
Vin took a few shuddering breaths to bury the emotion, but the tears trickled down her cheeks regardless. She gave herself a few moments, deciding to purge some of the sorrow she'd kept bottled up. When she regained her composure, she rose to her feet and prepared to face the others outside. But before she stepped back out, she attempted something she hadn't tried since Benny had shot her. As she figured, her brain's rewiring had damaged her grasp of pitch and tone.
But despite her off-key rendition, the song was as wonderful as she remembered when she'd performed in Freeside exactly one year ago.
"Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me…"