Another three plates shattered against the wall, nearly taking out Raul as he walked into the kitchen.
"Yikes," he remarked, raising his voice over the wailing and ruckus at the other end of the room. "The boss going into another fit?"
"What the hell do you think?" Cass snapped after a flailing elbow caught her in the jaw. "Damn it. Veronica, help me hold his other arm down, will ya?"
"I'm trying," the young scribe retorted, dodging Six's swinging fist. "It's harder when his punches get unpredictable like this."
Arcade, whose glasses had been knocked askew, clamped more firmly onto Six's right arm. "This is the worst episode yet. What set him off this time? It wasn't Cass's attempts at singing again, was it?"
"Shut up, Gannon."
As they continued with their cohesive but ineffective efforts, Raul hurried forward to join the restraining attempts on the autist known as Courier Six.
Tall, burly, and perched at the low-functioning end of the autism spectrum, Six let out a series of cries, his deep voice filling the Lucky 38 suite. The companions struggled to keep him from smashing what remained of the dining table, his hands already bloody and full of splinters as he descended further into his meltdown. His shirt lay in tatters on the floor, having been ripped off when he had begun his repetitive self-harming scratches over his torso. Tousled brown hair fell over his eyes as he leaned forward in an attempt to yank himself away from the people working to help.
"I think it was Lily this time, actually," Veronica grunted, gripping his left wrist as she shifted her leg to stop his stomping. "She kept trying to put a sweater on him because he was 'going to catch a cold.' He freaked out."
"Might have been too much sensory input all at once," Arcade commented, working with Raul to pin Six's arms to his sides. "Her booming voice coupled with that scratchy sweater she keeps toting around? I probably would have panicked, too."
Cass swore when Six's heavy foot nearly crushed hers through her boot. "Fuck it. Sorry, but you guys take it from here. I need a drink."
Veronica called after her, but she had already picked up her bottle of whiskey and marched through the doorway. In all honesty, no one could blame her. Looking after Six and dealing with these episodes took a great deal of time, patience, and exertion. They had all known what they'd signed up for when they came onboard, but the fine print never held a candle to the reality they had to live with day in and day out.
When several minutes of further struggling passed, and Arcade had exhausted all his limited medical knowledge of handling sensory meltdowns, reprieve came in the form of their resident sniper, back from one of his scouting ventures around the casino.
"Here, let me," Boone declared, striding toward them with ED-E hovering close behind.
Raul released his hold immediately, jumping out of the way when Six's large arms swung upward. "Be my guest, shades."
Veronica and Arcade backed away as well, their brows furrowing as Six yelled out something indiscernible before he started thwacking himself on the head with both fists. Boone came to stand in front of him, a frown deepening the lines around his mouth as he reached out to place his palms over the areas of impact on Six's skull, cushioning it. Nodding to ED-E, he held that position and gritted his teeth with every bruise growing on his hands as the eyebot floated over and let out a beeping noise.
Six's pounding slowed down almost at once, his pupils dilating and contracting as his eyes focused. Lifting his face, he stared at ED-E, who continued the beeping intervals until he stopped hitting himself. When his fists finally lowered to his sides and his facial muscles relaxed into a less distressed expression, Boone let go of his head.
Veronica released a sigh of relief from somewhere to the right as Boone gingerly took Six's shoulder and tugged him into motion. Still entranced by the electronic sounds, Six complied and followed Boone and ED-E out of the kitchen as the other three companions silently watched. Cass passed by on their way to Six's bedroom, eyeing them as she took a swig of whiskey. Once inside the room, Boone shut the door and dimmed the lights before leading Six to one of the more comfortable chairs, murmuring to ED-E to stay close by.
Rex perked up from where he'd been napping on the bed. Spotting his favorite human, he bounded off the mattress and tried to hop onto Six, who started to grow agitated again. Tearing his attention from ED-E, the Courier belted out a long wail at the sight of the overenthusiastic animal.
"Calm down, dog," Boone commanded, signaling for him to sit. "He's on edge right now. Help him out."
Rex whined once, but settled down. He leaned against Six's leg and rested his snout on his thigh, gazing up at him. Boone crouched down on the other side, taking Six's hand and bringing it to stroke the scruff of Rex's neck. The soothing movements brought the atmosphere back to a quiet level, and Six refocused on the safer stimming, his fingers gliding over Rex's fur as ED-E supplied consistent auditory ambience.
Once he was certain Six was at peace, Boone straightened and wiped the sweat from his forehead. How many episodes had occurred just within the past week? Three? Four? Enough to cause concern, definitely. The battle at Hoover Dam loomed ahead, and with Six having more frequent fits, this boded ill for all of them.
He glanced down at the Courier, his friend and obligation, wondering just how much crueler Lady Luck could be to this poor soul.
"Sorry," Boone muttered, ruffling Six's hair even though he remained uncertain whether the other man could understand him or not. "If Carla had told me sooner that she had a special needs brother, we never would've gotten caught up in any of this."