Edited: 12/14/17

"Nevaeh will you shut up!?"

The woman rolled her head over to peer at Michael Hawthorne, her favorite drinking buddy.

He held his head in his hands and was staring down at the dusty floor with this lost and hopeless look in his pretty eyes. He looked rough.

Nevaeh cackled though and tipped her bottle back, taking a wonderful swig of whiskey. They say whiskey kills brain cells, then again they say all alcohol kills brain cells. Wouldn't that be great? To just be stupid the rest of your life? Never having to worry about your actions, having someone else take care of you?

Nevaeh started to sing again, this time even louder; Shakes seemed to be enjoying her singing, seeing as how he was trying to sing along with her. She wondered if robots could get drunk? That would be a theory to test out one day when she was really wasted.

Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing.
Oh wasn't that the dainty dish to set before the king?

"Nevaeh. . ."

The king was in his counting house counting his money.
The queen was in the parlor eating bread and honey.
The maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes,
When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose!

"Nevaeh! Will you shut the fuck up already?!"

Nevaeh chuckled deeply and ran her hand down the side of Michael's face, making his cheeks heat up under her fingers. Her golden eyes flickered over to the door way of the Federalist's Lounger, seeing Susan Lancaster leaning against the frame; her eyes were narrowed at the blonde and Nevaeh flicked her tongue out at her. That look of pure disgust, you know that one, the one that makes you feel so dirty yet so powerful all at the same time because you so easily influenced someone's emotions so quickly, so easily, crossed over her dainty features and she turned around, leaving Nevaeh to cackle beside a clueless Michael.

Stupid bitch saw Nevaeh as competition, when she was no competition.

Michael was only her buddy, not any love or lust interest. She only needed a happy face to drink with or her whole mood would go down, and usually he was the happy face, but today he seems pretty down. He never told Nevaeh to shut up, even when she was more aggravating than she was right now, and she can tell you she can get way more annoying; it's like a special talent of hers now and she owns it with pride.

He was also ignoring his drink, which was a rare thing for him. His poor bottle of scotch was just sitting there by his elbow, looking so lonely. . .and vulnerable. Nevaeh eased her fingers over to it, probably a comical sight to anyone else, but in her head, she was on a real, intense mission, and then snatched it up, tossing her empty bottle of whiskey into the trash bin by her chair.

"Wha-hic-t's wrong Mi-hic-chael," Nevaeh breathed against his chest.

Damn, I can't keep my head up for nothing.

Nevaeh looked up again and met his pale blue eyes; he was quite sober and she didn't like that. Sober people could think about all their problems and it ruined their moods. Drunken people had alcohol muddling their brains and could only think of where they'd pass out later, maybe. Sometimes it isn't so easy. Speaking of where she would pass out, she hoped Godfrey was up. . .she needed someone to help her out of this armor. It was definitely some type of raider armor, considering the spikes and the lack of a need for imagination to see someone's body.

She was practically naked, but she liked that, always had - being either naked or naked adjacent.

Michael sighed, sitting up a little and running his long fingers through his shaggy blonde hair. Damn, for a second there he was, like, really hot.

"Nothing's wrong Nevaeh, just the fact that we have an entire city in the metros beneath us. It's driving me crazy, I can't take it anymore."

Newvaeh sat up the best she could. See what she meant with sober people? Thinking about their problems again. . .what was wrong with them?

"Ok, well I'll go ch-hic-eck on them tomorrow. Deal? I'll get the key soon, just gotta do that for Dashwood."

Michael grinned, knowing what I was talking about. "I can get the med's from Banfield."

"And so Operation: Sedate Susan Lancaster begins."

Michael chuckled, his mood instantly brightening thanks to her stupidity. "Alright it's late, I'm gonna go get the meds."

Nevaeh grinned like a mad woman and raised her hand for a high five, which he returned with intensity. She could feel it rattle through her bones. "Hell yeah, by the way I just scared her off a few moments ago. Go get her."

He chuckled and stood, leaving Nevaeh alone in the bar. Music played softly from the radio in the corner, a soft mess of notes that were gently lulling her into a daze.

Nevaeh shook her head leaned back in her chair slightly, enjoying the way the ceiling turned into a spiral for a moment, and took a gentle sip of her whiskey. Damn, she loved this stuff, it burned in all the right ways. I guess I would qualify as a drunk now, huh?

No one had said anything yet, nobody had the balls to fuck with her because of her and Tenpenny's relationship. He adored Nevaeh, her (false) disdain for the lower on the food chain. If only he knew the real Nevaeh, he would probably kill her himself.

She looked around the lounge, confused by the way she could see the dimensions of everything moving around me.

She wished they had Galaxy New Radio, or hell some holotapes to pop in, this elevator music was annoying. But oh no, that type of stuff wasn't proper. Whatever, they were living in the Capital Wasteland, in probably the worst part of it too; there was a fucking raider camp down the road almost and they had no real connection to the outside world.

Morons.

Nevaeh sighed eventually and pushed herself up from the old chair she was sitting in and stretched, her bare stomach exposed in my Raider armor. She loved this shit, it is so damn sexy, and coming from the Vault Nevaeh was totally transfixed when she got her hands on this shit. All we had to look sexy in the Vault were our night clothes, and the color just did not go good with our pale skin color.

They all looked like sick, gray meat.

Nevaeh could feel eyes on her as she pranced through the lobby, or at least as she tried to, it was just not going so well with her drunken state. She knew those eyes on her were Gustavo's, scrutinizing her, as she entered the elevator but she could care less. He was so mad Burke let Nevaeh into the Tower, and that she had wanted to argue over the racial profiling in the Wasteland.

No light, no problem.

She knew where the buttons were by memory now. She pressed the button at the very top and slid down to the floor, back against the wall of the elevator as she breathed in deeply through her nose. No vomit, not right now. They were still pretty peeved about her puking in here last time. Nevaeh smirked, remembering the look of disgust on everyone's faces. It was hilarious. They were such wannabe snots, they just did not know what she had grown up with, around. Those people in the Vault? They are as snotty as they come, Nevaeh was glad she gave them a good dose of horror.

Hopefully that balanced them out enough so that they would grow some balls, open the Vault and really live.

They just didn't understand how much they needed to open that door.

The elevator dinged and she crawled out towards her door, sitting on her knees as she attempted to unlock the door. Nevaeh crawled inside, telling Godfrey to shut and lock the door, and then climbed onto her heart bed in the center of the room. She stretched out in content, feeling the ancient silk brush against her exposed flesh as a sigh escaped her lips.

"Godfrey," Nevaeh sang out, twisting around on the bed.

"Yes Madam," he whirred over to the bed, hovering beside it while she stared at him through half lidded eyes. "What is it you need?"

"I need you to help me get undressed, can you bring me my-hic-sleeping clothes?"

"Yes Madam."

It took a solid 30 minutes for Nevaeh to get undressed, her Pip-Boy told me that. Poor Godfrey. She felt bad for him. He was her babysitter when she was in the tower. It made her feel bad that he had to take care of her, a grown woman. And it was all because she was usually so plastered she couldn't walk or at least walk properly. She should know better than to act like such a mess, but it was so much fun to just. . .let it go. . .at least every once-in-awhile.

Nevaeh blamed her father for this, mostly, but she did blame herself a little. She was the one getting fucked up, forcing her robot butler to help her change like she was a five year old. But the whole reason she got drunk was because of her memories of the Vault, the Vault her father locked her inside of. It made all of those insecurities and issues go away, made her dad go away.

She had to be an adult way before her time. And to be drunk. . .it made her so care free, took away all of those bad memories, those responsibilities.

She should be following him ya know, following him and making sure he was okay. Damn, I need to go after him, but he makes me so angry, fills me with so much rage that I don't want to even admit I was related to him let alone look for him.

Nevaeh was done taking care of her father, she was done watching him and following him. She was so sick of it. She was only looking out for mherself now. But back to her main problem: finding a replacement babysitter for Godfrey.

Nevaeh rolled onto her stomach, staring at Godfrey as he got as comfortable as he could in his station. She wondered how robots even got comfortable.

"Hey Godfrey?"

"Yes?"

"How would you feel if I got a new babysitter?"

"I would love it."

She chuckled and rolled onto her back, sighing as she stared up at the ceiling and then closed her eyes, reveling in the cold air provided by the towers generators.

"That was a rather quick answer. Alright then I'll start looking for a new babysitter immediately."

"That would be amazing, madam."

Carley. . .

She remembered her first dive out of the Vault.

She'd been so damn green, having no idea what to do with herself or the gun in her hand. It wasn't a team going in either, just her and her mentor - you know Crazy Wolfgang - trying to get past a group of lookalikes that shouted Gary at them as they chased them through corridor after corridor after corridor. . .

"Gary Gary Gary!"

When they thought they were emptied of enemies, more would just sprout up from Hell - or wherever the machine was that was making these things. Carly wanted to go back, she wanted to stop the relative outbreak but Wolfgang convinced her to just follow him out and jam the main door, then seal up the Vault door with a new code because that's what she was good at. She'd grown up in a Vault, after all, if anyone knew how to fuck up that door it was her - with the exception of three more people, but that was besides the point.

This was Carly's fifth dive and she was running on pure adrenaline, basically alone with Wolfgang only over her Pip-Boy.

The cub she had in her arms was panting and growling, begging to be released but Carly was waiting for the Mirelurk to round the corner. The Ink Spots played loud and proud, drowning out Wolfgang's insisting this was a very bad idea but Carly was doing it anyway. Her heart may have been hammering away in her chest and the cub may have been easily chipping away at the thick leather that wrapped around her arms but Carly knew what she was doing dammit.

She peered cautiously around the corner and squeaked when she saw the white shelled behemoth stalking with claws raised. Carly grinned and adjusted the cub in her arms, leaning down towards its twitching, scabby ear as she lowered them both to a crouch.

"You gonna kill that mean ol' crab huh," she cheered in that gaga voice she usually saved for the rare baby they ran across. "Do it for mama, okay? And I got that gecko you like. . ."

The cub yipped and when she released it, its claws slid across the floor and it barreled down the hallway. Carly grinned as she reached down, unclipping her pistol from its holster and swung herself around the corner.

She and Wolfgang had bought the Yao Guair cub off of a scavenger that said its mother rejected it because it was a runt; the others had disappeared into the Wasteland, like they were supposed to. But this one had hung around, skin and bones because the mother - his guard Guai - refused to nurse it. So, bim-bam-boom, Carly gets a pet Yao Guai that was now beginning to grow at a surprising rate. Little over a week ago, it had been small enough for her to be able to carry ir everywhere, now she struggled with it's weight in her arms but he hadn't quite learned to not jump the gun unless she said so, so Carly had to hold him when they went out alone.

"I told you this would work," Carly shouted into the speaker on her Pip-Boy as she fired two rounds into the face of the Mirelurk.

It wailed and clicked, but the cub had easily torn through its thick legs by now, sending it down to the floor where he could begin to claw into its face; it was dead in minutes. Carly nearly praised the cub when he just panted around her ankles and didn't charge off when there was more clicking; he was a little taller than her knees now. Carly quickly reloaded the clip in her pistol before she swept down the stairs, the cub on her heels and howling when they were immediately confronted by a Mirelurk King. It was angry - of course, those things almost always looked angry - and waves its arms in a wide arc, thrusting its chest forward in intimidation. Carly raised her gun, prepared to fire at its head but as she did so, the Lurk flew backwards and Carly remembered the cub.

"Ha," she chirped as she watched the cub crush the head between strong jaws. "I told you he'd be a big help," Carly chirped into the speaker as she began to walk down the halls, the cub loping ahead of her; she would make him stop if her map didn't show that they were just around the bend of their destination and the lack of life pings didn't hurt. "How are things topside?"

"Quiet," Wolfgang murmured as she unlocked the automatic door. "Whatever had the Deathclaws riled up must be gone," he paused when he heard her release a sigh of relief. "Found what we were looking for?"

Carly grinned, though he couldn't see it and caressed the pristine case nestled between sheet music. "Yeah, I found it," she looked over her shoulder, grin thickening. "And a completely intact jukebox."