A/N: I own nothing.
So...this came out of nowhere.
This was written with Medicinals by Timber Timbre playing in the background.
Please leave a comment before you go, and thanks for reading!
"Start with Sunny Smiles," Ringo told you, "she's friendlier than most." As if she wasn't the second face you saw right out of the grave. As if you'd been buried your whole damn life and only knew her by the way her feet pounding against the earth as she ran after the geckos, with Cheyenne at her heels. As if.
See, you forgot Ringo after you lit out of Goodsprings, and then you forgot Sunny Smiles right along with Pete and Trudy and all the rest of 'em. You left and never came back, not when you got nearly torn apart at the gas station down the road, and not when you were on top of the world in Vegas.
But, before you forgot, you saw something. The tail end of it. Baking in the hot sun, with the smell of gunpowder lingering under your nose, you were headed towards Chet to ask for supplies when you heard it.
"Sunny." Ringo's voice was loud and abrasive in the unnatural quiet of Goodsprings, like he was speaking when the whole world was holding its breath while hoping not to burst, but he just kept on talking.
"Yeah," she said. You peered around the corner of a house and saw them standing apart; she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were on Cheyenne; she scratched the dog behind the ears and the old girl thumped her tail like piston.
"Thanks. For this."
"Thank that fella who came along," Sunny replied evenly, "for fixin' to organize the town and help out folk down on their luck."
"Listen," Ringo said, and he said it like he was about to sell her a house full of cards, and maybe he was, you thought, maybe he was gonna sell her something, sweet and clean like water or dirty and covered in grit like a buried gun. It was hard to say. "I wish I could pay you back."
Sunny finally looked at him, squinting in the sunlight.
"My money's going to the stranger."
"Fair enough." She didn't break eye contact.
"But you're good," he said, and held out a hand. She was crouched on the ground, covered in layers of grime and heaps of dust from being out in the desert for so long. Cheyenne growled lowly at Ringo, but the woman just shushed her and kept on looking at him. "I mean that."
"You'd best save your gratitude for later," she said at last, and looked back to Cheyenne, seeking to soothe the agitated mutt. "Til after the fight's over."
"I can't thank you if I'm dead," Ringo said, and Sunny opened her mouth to reply, but then you heard the first shot go off, and you were off like a bullet fired from a rabid gun.