Truce
Charon doesn't like him. He's only here because he has to be—because she is and his contract says he'll get the mother of all migraines if he doesn't stay within shouting range. Though, practical as he is, Charon knew he'd be following her like a lost puppy with or without the contract the minute she turned those baby blues of hers on him. Turned out she had a talent for attracting lost puppies.
…severely radiated, sex starved lost puppies.
But he's got a job to do, dogs and baby blues aside, so he contents himself with standing in the corner of the bar and glaring. It's become something of a talent of his over the years—slinking around in bar corners glaring at people. Except usually people have the decency to fear for their lives when he glares at them.
Gob only sits there—all nice and safe behind the Vaultie and his bar counter—and smirks at him. Because Gob knows what to say and when to say it but Charon's never been much of one for talking. So while he uselessly contemplates all the handy walls he'd like to ravish his employer against—fucking contract—Gob's over there practically charming the pants off of her.
Asshole.
But when the Vaultie fixes him with those baby blue bedroom eyes and tilts her head towards home, he can't help smirking back at Gob over the counter. Gob can flirt all he fucking wants to here, but Charon knows the only orders he'll be getting back at home are harder, damnit—and why the hell is that idiot following them out?
"Mistress," he growls through clenched teeth, hoping belatedly it sounds more like a question than a threat as he stares the interloper down.
But she only smiles back at him and he knows that look in her eyes. It's the look that usually prefaces things like let's go skipping into that massive Super Mutant camp over there and I bet I can clean out that raider camp with a bag of rocks.
"I thought we could try something new tonight." And there it is—those baby blues at full force. "But you can sleep on the couch if you'd rather."
Gob opens his mouth to speak and stops, the implication of the Vaultie's words catching him dead between the eyes.
"You an' him…" Gob starts and stops again, looking at her with wide-eyed injured pride. "Fuck, kid. You never said I'd have to share."
But she only tilts her head and flashes him that sex smirk of hers that always leaves Charon shifting in his armor and says, "What? Not up for it?"
Gob's eyes flick to his for a moment, dark and angry and Charon stares right back, hands clenched at his side, wondering if a good right hook to the man's jaw will be worth the migraine he'll get for breaking a standing order. But then Gob shrugs with that fucking smirk pulling at his lips and a challenge in his eyes and says,
"What the hell? I'll try anything once."
