Why do we go through this every damn night? The ghoul thought to himself as he stalked over to the bar at the nod from his employer, reaching out to grab the back of Patchwork's shirt and haul him bodily from the stool, ignoring his words of protest. Dragging him to the door of the Ninth Circle was automatic at that point: reach out, push the door open, and toss the other ghoul on his ass, repeat the next night. Charon was tired of the monotony of it, rotting away in the corner of the bar, in the employ of a real prick; he longed for the old days of travelling the wasteland, before he'd come into Ahzrukhal's service.

Thinking about the past won't do anything but put you in a bad mood; don't bother, he thought as he shoved open the door, lifting the struggling ghoul easily and pushing Patchwork into the hall without even bothering to look at him; good riddance.

A low yelp of pain and surprise caught his attention and he paused, looking down at the figure shoving Patchwork aside and standing, dark hair falling loose from a messy bun and hazel eyes glaring up at him from behind thick-rimmed glasses. "Watch where you're throwing people next time!" The woman huffed, hands on her hips and scowl on her face.

Charon scowled right back at her. "Maybe you should watch where you're going, Smoothskin." Without waiting for a response he turned on his heel and walked back over to his usual corner, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest, looking around as though in search of more troublemakers; his gaze kept falling on the woman, however, as she walked in and made her way to the bar, sliding easily into a stool and handing over some caps in exchange for a drink.

She was taller than almost everyone else in the Ninth Circle—possibly taller than anyone in Underworld—and dressed in combat armour, a US Army star on the back between her shoulder blades. A 10mm handgun rested at her hip, and a combat knife was strapped to her left thigh, within easy reach of her hands; though she appeared relaxed, Charon could see the practiced way her eyes swept over the bar, resting on him and lingering for a moment before moving on.

He couldn't help the curiosity that had bloomed at the sight of her; not many smoothskins ended up in Underworld, and none had ever sat and laughed with a ghoul the way she was, as Tulip took a seat beside her and the two women began chatting. Who are you, Smoothskin?

The whiskey she'd knocked back wasn't particularly good, and the bar owner was a creep, but the Ninth Circle wasn't bad as far as Wasteland bars went. Cat had certainly been in worse; she snorted softly, thinking of Moriarty's and the filth that covered every surface in the place. At least this one is clean.

The patrons had eyed her when she walked in, most openly, a few more covert; she didn't mind. It was to be expected, as she was a newcomer and Carol had mentioned they didn't often have non-ghoul visitors in Underworld. One set of eyes felt heavy on her back, and it was all Cat could do to keep from squirming beneath that sharp gaze even as she chatted idly with Tulip, the friendly female ghoul she'd bartered weapons with downstairs.

What is his issue? She wondered after her second drink, chancing a glance at the tall ghoul and finding his gaze still on her; the bartender, who'd introduced himself as Ahzrukhal, noticed her looking and nodded in the man's direction. "Don't let him bother you, Smoothskin," he said in an amused voice, "he's just watching for trouble. You're not going to cause any, right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," she replied truthfully, pasting on a smile and resisting the urge to lean away as he leered. "What's his deal, anyway?"

"Charon is my...loyal employee. I hold his contract, and in return he does as I say, which is usually throwing out the rabble." Resting his elbows on the countertop Ahzrukhal leaned closer to her. "Watches over the bar. Keeps the drunks in line. Pretty much, I point at something and Charon hurts it."

Charon, huh? "Loyal employee? What do you mean?"

Ahzrukhal shrugged, picking up a glass and wiping it down with a rag. "I hold his contract, which makes me his employer. He will do what I ask when I ask, without question. You see, Charon grew up around a very interesting group of individuals. They...well, I guess you could say that they brainwashed him."

"Brainwashed? That doesn't seem...pleasant." She chanced a glance back over to the ghoul in question but his eyes were fixed straight ahead.

"He is absolutely loyal to whomever holds his contract. Unfailing, unflinching, until the day that employment ends. Don't get me wrong, I have no doubt that he holds no end of animosity towards me. But so long as he is my employee, he is as gentle as a teddy bear." He eyes narrowed as she turned back around to face him. "What's with all the questions?"

Putting on a casual air Cat shrugged, twirling her empty glass between her hands, an idea forming in her mind. "You said he's your employee by contract? I'm interested in talking to you about that."

As she'd expected, the ghoul's eyes lit up with interest and he set down his rag and glass. "Oh? Would you, now? He is a highly valuable asset to me and to the Ninth Circle. What did you have in mind?"

She spent a moment thinking, considering her current stock of caps and those she'd stashed back home in Megaton, before voicing her first offer, intentionally low. "I'll give you 1000 caps for it."

"You're kidding, right? Come back when you have a serious offer." The ghoul scoffed and turned, reaching for a bottle of vodka on the shelf behind him.

"2000, then."

His shoulders stiffened briefly, and Cat suppressed a smile, knowing she had him as he turned, a smirk crossing his face. "I suppose that could work... yes. Yes... here's the contract. And I'll take my payment in full." As she dug out the caps Ahzrukhal pulled out a folded scrap of paper, pressing it into her hand once she'd given him the money. "I'll give you the pleasure of informing Charon yourself."

And just like that, Cat had a companion.