An insistent rapping on Moriarty's office door made him frown.
"Dammit, Gob! What is it?" He called out, angry.
When the door opened, it was not the ghoul who came in. It wasn't anyone he knew at all. The person who walked in and shut the door behind them looked like they had been dragged behind a brahmin. Their arm was done up in one of Doc Church's slings. He wrinkled his nose at the dust on the plain, unattractive brown clothing – rags, really- until they turned to him and pulled down the wrappings around their head and he saw clearly that it was a young woman who had intruded.
Her face was drawn and pale, and about as dusty as her clothing. The freckles on her skin stood out against the paleness of too little sleep, sallow even under her sunburns that told she'd been wandering the Wastes. But the dark shadows under her eyes did not detract from their startling grey, and despite the tangles in it, he could still appreciate the curly mane of red hair that fell down her back. She came to stand right in front of him and looked him straight in the eye, her jaw set and her cool eyes challenging.
He was intrigued – too much to be very angry at her impudence.
"Well, lass. What brings you banging down my doors?" He asked coolly.
"Word around town is you can help me raise money to pay the Doc." She said. Her voice was low and dusky.
"Oh it is, is it? What's the matter? Can't afford your sling?"
"It's my friend. He's in Church's clinic right now. He's...he's hurt bad." Her voice stayed even, but he sensed the slightest tremble. Now he could see the watery rim to her eyes, the redness on her pale eyelids. She'd been crying. Oh, this is going to be good.
"How sad." He said, not the least bit disturbed himself.
"Church refuses to operate unless I give him the caps up front." She went on. "All of them."
"That sounds like Church." He chuckled. "And good on him, I say. Too many people think his services come free. But how does this concern me, sweetheart?"
"I hear sometimes you front caps for those needing a loan."
He had to hand it to her, there was such a control in her voice that, were it not for the intensity of her eyes, he almost wouldn't believe she was desperate. But she was, he could feel it. He had her. And so he deliberately took his time, chuckling again, putting his feet up on the computer terminal desk and leaning back in his chair, rocking the front legs off of the ground.
"Interesting. Did they also say not to come to me?"
She nodded. "Many times. But you're the only one who will even consider it."
His grin broadened. He let the chair legs hit the floor.
"That's right, my dear. Because ol' Moriarty isn't one to turn down a good deal. They said that too, didn't they?"
"Close enough."
He laughed again. Close enough.
"Well, lass, what is it you've got in mind? How much is the good doctor needing to patch your friend up?"
"Five hundred caps."
He frowned. That wasn't much at all.
"Only five hundred for surgery?" He snorted. "What – did he stub his toe?"
"Five hundred for the surgery, and another hundred for every night he stays after...and the Doc expects he'll be there at least a week." Her voice wavered ever so slightly. This woman was trying hard to hold on.
That was a much better figure. He whistled.
"Goodness gracious, Church is going to run himself out of business with fees like that! Your friend sounds in bad shape."
"He's dying." She said coldly.
"Perhaps it'd be cheaper to die!" He sneered.
She didn't flinch at that, much to her credit, but he was going to keep needling her. He wasn't going to let her off the hook so easy.
"That's a lot of caps, girl. Moriarty's is no bank." He propped his hands under his chin in a fist and pretended to mull it over.
"Even if it's just enough caps for a few days." She urged. "Not the whole week. Or just enough for the surgery."
He nodded slowly, still pretending to think. He had enough caps on hand for roughly two weeks at Church's price. But he wasn't going to let her know that.
"What happened to your friend?" He asked, as though it were terribly important to his decision making.
She hesitated. "He...we were attacked."
"Caught with your pants down in the Wastes? What was it, Raiders?"
"Ghouls." She said.
Oh, this is too much. She probably crapped herself seeing Gob.
"Tangling with the ferals, eh? Or did you flip off a band from Underworld?"
"Ferals." She said curtly.
She was getting restless. Good.
"And Doc's got to put his guts back in?" He grinned.
She waited in stony silence. He let that silence hang until she couldn't wait anymore.
"So can you do it? Can you lend the caps?" She asked.
He smiled. "Oh, I can lend the caps. Sure, I can do that. The question is, can you repay me? I, too, have a business to run."
"I can repay you." She said quickly. "We both can."
He sat back, indulgent.
"How is that?" He asked.
"We're on our way to New Vegas from Rivet City. We're performers. We do all sorts of acts."
"Performers?" He sneered. "I'm not sure there's much of a calling for that kind of thing in Megaton, my dear. Manya already plays the piano."
"We're good at what we do."
"With a broken arm?"
"My shoulder's just been dislocated." She snapped. "I heal quickly." She was getting angry now at his demurring. Too bad. He would not be rushed in his fun.
"And your friend? He's not going to be in any shape to entertain if he's as bad off as you say."
She glared at him.
"I can work by myself, if need be."
"A solo act, eh?"
"Of sorts." She glanced away.
"I don't think I quite follow."
"I'm talking about companionship. I don't see any girl working here."
His smile was slow and thoughtful.
"Oh? You'd whore yourself out, would you?"
"Yes."
"What would your friend think about this?"
"Nothing. It's not the first time."
His eyebrows shot up. It was hard to say if she was telling the truth about that.
"And you'd be so in demand that your debt would be paid? Just like that?"
She took a couple slow steps toward him, coming under the naked bulb that dangled from the ceiling. The light made her hair glow soft, deep red, and her hips swayed as she walked.
"That I would." She said, looking right down at him, daring him to contradict her.
He ran his tongue behind his teeth. She was younger than he originally thought, but maybe she was old enough to know what she was doing.
"Perhaps an audition, then?" He grinned.
"No." She said flatly. "There's rules."
"Rules!" He barked. "I don't think you're in that kind of position, love."
"Yes, rules." She repeated. "And I am."
He crossed his arms, looking at her hard. He hadn't expected such a fight out of her. Really, he thought she would cave pretty quickly and let him start defining the terms of their deal. It's about time I had a good opponent.
"Indulge me. What are these rules?"
She's probably no kind of working girl, he mused. Just a pretty, scared little waif wanting to save her boyfriend and making promises in the heat of the moment.
"First rule: If I have a pimp, I don't sleep with him. Not even for caps. End of story."
He grunted. We'll see about that...
"Second rule?"
"I reserve the right to shoot anyone who doesn't take no for an answer."
He couldn't help but laugh at that. She was so damned serious.
"God almighty, lass. You're quite a disagreeable whore!"
"There isn't much I say no to." She said over his laughter. He raised an eyebrow.
"Oh no?" He looked her over again. Pretty little thing, especially once she gets cleaned up and dressed better. "I suppose you have more rules on who your clientele will be. Who will you, er, service?"
"Men. Women. I'm not picky."
That was something. Silver would only go one way – and then she had the audacity to start complaining about her john's looks!
"You'd take any caps that came through my door? Traders? Mercs? Druggies? No one's winning any beauty contests in Megaton, lass."
"Obviously." She sniffed, with a rather pointed look at him.
He let the jab go. Now he really was thinking.
People had been grumbling about Silver's absence ever since that bitch had stormed out a couple of weeks ago in another one of her tantrums. There had been a marked decrease in caps ever since. If she is as fiery in bed as her temper and that hair...
He wondered idly if there were any way he could get her to bend on that first rule. He'd been able to get with Silver. Somehow it would be even more of an accomplishment with this stubborn one. But what about this man of hers?
"What about if your friend dies?" He asked abruptly. "What then?"
Caught off guard by the question, her lofty attitude faltered for just a moment. The stubborn tilt to her chin lowered, but only for a moment. Then it was up again, and her cool grey gaze was as haughty as a queen's.
"Then I still owe you. I still work." Her voice was emotionless.
"You're damn right you do. Good answer."
He sat up straight.
"You're in luck, lass. I'm feeling generous tonight, and I'm going to make you a deal. I'll loan you the caps for the surgery – plus one week. In return, you come and take over where the previous girl left off."
She nodded. "Deal."
He held up his hand. "Not so fast, dear. I want you working here by tomorrow morning. Shoulder healed or no."
Her expression tightened, but she nodded again. "Fine. I'll be here."
He studied her a moment, aware that she was uncomfortable under his gaze. She was anxious to be out of there.
I should warn you, lass. If you even think of running out of town once Church gets those caps, you'll be dead before you get to Springvale. That I promise."
"I'm good on my word!" There was a touch of real anger in her voice. Prideful little thing.
"Well, you haven't given your word yet." He reminded her.
"Tell me where to sign." She growled. She looked quite fed up with him.
He was all smiles for her. "Why, a handshake is good enough for Moriarty. Around here, it's as bonding as any piece of paper."
He held out his hand.
She took it with her slim fingers. Her grip was strong and sure, though her hand was cold as ice. He got a good look at her as she stood close. Yes, with some cleaning up, she would definitely be a draw.
"You're good at what you do, hmm?" He asked, running his eyes over her again. He didn't bother to release her hand.
"I am."
"What makes you say that?"
"I give people what they want."
He snorted. "Anyone can do that, my dear. Most of these assholes only require you to be a warm body. Maybe not even warm. I'm asking what you've got that makes you so special."
She wrenched her hand free from his, pushed him back into his chair and leaned in close. So close, he swore for an instant she was going to kiss him. Her fingernails, poised on his chest, dug into his shirt. She leaned over him as though to crawl on his lap, but stopped just short of it with her knee placed uncomfortably hard on his groin.
"Wait and see." She breathed, and he opened his eyes to see a soft smile on her lips. Despite his discomfort, his heart pounded with excitement. He licked his lips. She was fractions of an inch outside his tongue's reach.
"You've got my attention." He grinned, already congratulating himself for his good fortune on getting her to break her ridiculous rule.
Her knee pressed a little harder and he grunted.
"Of course I do." She scoffed. The frightened girl was long gone. "I can read you like a book."
"That's because I'm so open and honest." He reached up to touch her, and she dug her knee in hard enough to make him wince.
"Send the caps right away." She murmured.
Just before he could grab her, she released him. She left him without hurry, utterly ignoring him and showing herself out. He stared at the closed door and shook his head.
This is going to be good.