Juliet opens the hulking metal door, stepping into the dim green and blue light of the Muddy Rudder. Her boots kick bottles of liquor around the floor, and they crunch against Potato Crisps bags that litter the floor.
She's biased towards Rivet City, and not just because it was the Wasteland's safest habitable area. It reminds her of home. Well, other than the huge number of drug addicts and alcoholics, of course. She just finds the thick, metal walls and fluorescent light soothing, compared to the brilliant sun in the Wasteland. She uses the word "home" lightly when describing Vault 101 to people she meets.
Vault 101 was simply the place she had been born and raised. D.C.'s central ruins and the scattered, singed forests around it are as much a home as the vault had been, if not more. She has months of experience – a whole year, even – traversing the Wasteland, traipsing into raider traps, strutting straight into minefields, and lugging shitloads of traded or scavenged items through heavily armored Super Mutant camps. Even still, she wouldn't trade the vast number of those memories for the narrow, monochrome halls of the vault.
It wasn't as if her escape from the dreary place had been especially heart-wrenching, anyway. Juliet has already spent months outside of the vault, and it has given her time to develop her own sense of right and wrong. When she looks back at the conditions of the vault, the unquestionable authority of the Overseer...she definitely considers it out of line. There were few people she had really, truly cared for in the first place anyway. Freddie, Amata, maybe even poor, crazy Beatrice…
The first few weeks of combing the wastes for her father along had been guilt-ridden, especially when she thought of her friends stuck with the Overseer's wrath. Betraying them and leaving without a goodbye was never the way she wanted to end things with the vault, and Juliet could barely stand it in the beginning. Now, the twenty-year-old remedies the repressed, negative emotions with the reminder that her father had done the same, and all for a fucking water purifier that never functioned - and never will.
When she passes by Brock, she tries not to let her clenched fists slam into the pool table. The memories of her dad slumping against the glass of the Rotunda in the Monument, telling her to run, to flee from the rads seeping into his blood stream are haunting.
Her only family.
Her father - the man who helped her outsmart Braun, helped her battle through the Super Mutant-infested Monument; the man who had escaped from an un-escapable vault was dead at his own hands, beaten down by his own dedication to a program that couldn't possibly succeed.
He was dead, and all for nothing.
A feeling of betrayal and abandonment came crawling back to her when James breathed his last – the very same that she had felt a year ago when Amata shook her awake and told her that he had fled the vault.
Juliet shakes her head as she descends the rickety metallic steps towards the bar, turning her shoulder away from a few drunks who teeter up the stairs. She doesn't want to knock them on their pissed asses, because her temper is now growing frighteningly out of control.
Harkness looks up from his seat at right-end side of the bar, and motions her over with a wave of his hand. It's hard for the Lone Wanderer to remember that the fit and handsome security guard is an android, but when she spots the open bottle of whiskey and empty seat next to him, she figures she can make do. Juliet waves back, despite being a few feet away, and flashes him a world-weary smile. Nights like these, when Alex is off duty and she's in town, are special. While she hasn't ever been particularly attracted to Harkness, she finds the company of a friend rewarding, especially when they're willing to share a drink or two.
She slides one of the bar stools out, wincing as the metal legs squeal against the rusty floor of the bar. She plops down, shrugging off a heavy, distressed knapsack from her back and letting it drop to the floor.
Her dark, curly hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, and a heavy storm has fortunately washed it of irradiated dirt and grease from her travels. The Recon armor Reilly gave her is full of dents and in desperate need of repair, but she's even more desperate for a few good glasses of whiskey.
"We've all been restless lately, Jules. Three Dog hasn't heard anything from you in weeks, so, you know... we haven't either," Harkness says when she settles into her seat. Juliet waves her hand at him, her way of saying 'drink first chat later.' Harkness grins in understanding, chugging down a shot while she unstraps some of the heavier plates for her armor. He shoots her a worried glance.
"I've never seen you so exhausted," he says, and she shrugs in response.
"Been a lot going on," she lies, thanking Belle for the tall glass of whiskey sent her way.
She's actually been hiding out in her home in Megaton, drowning in self-pity and loneliness. Charon stays posted outside almost 24/7, scaring visitors away. Sometimes they leave gift baskets. She doesn't like that.
"Yes, I have no doubt about that,"
"No reason to worry, Chief."
Silence. Harkness downs another shot and stares off at the wall of the bar behind Belle. He's processing something.
Juliet takes the opportunity to throw her glance around – it's second nature to her. She almost sees the scope of her rifle in front of her eyes as she takes in the crowd. No threats, as usual, just the usual customers.
Her eyes drift over Tammy Hargrave in one corner, and her trigger-finger suddenly twitches. She's overheard rumors that she abuses her son, and Juliet wouldn't put it past her. The woman's temper and attitude are terrible. In her opinion, Tammy's head is just begging to be blown off by a sniper in the middle of the night – rumors or not. Harkness notices her fidgeting and rolls his shoulder into hers.
"Calm down, Jules. What's got you all worked up, anyway?"
"Is she drinking water, Hark?"
A pause.
"Pretty sure. As far as I know, she's been sober for a few weeks now."
"Surprising," Juliet replies, in no mood for conversation about drunks she despises. Harnkess shrugs, and lifts his glass of whiskey up again. Juliet motions for Belle to cut off his supply, but the android catches her and laughs for the bartender not to bother.
"Wanna see something even more shocking than a sober Tammy Hargrave?" he asks, obviously trying to divert the Lone Wanderer's attention from his drinking. She shoots him a glare, but shrugs her acceptance. If Juliet was a different person, oh fuck, would she be taking advantage of his situation. Harkness is leaning against her side, and it would be so very rewarding to sling her arm over his shoulder and lead him to her room in the Weatherly.
The chief of security takes another swig of whiskey, this time from the bottle. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, towards the darkest corner of the Rudder.A male figure rests an elbow on the table in front of him, blowing smoke out of the cigarette in his other hand. His chair is tipped back lazily, and the rusted legs look like they're going to snap at any moment.
"When'd he get here, Hark?" Juliet inquires.
"Few days ago. He asked Belle to put a cot in one of the supply closets. Said he was used to sleeping in confined spaces, or something."
"Really? Interesting. So, what's the deal? Is he causing trouble?"
"Nothing I've seen. Just sits there twenty-four-seven, drinking and snapping that switchblade of his back and forth."
Juliet's lips pull into a frown, and she twists at the hips to stare at the man again.
The stranger is doing exactly as Harkness describes; the switchblade presses against his thumb, and he jerks the muscles in his wrist. The blade snaps back towards the holster, and it makes a distinct snk sound as it pops out from the wooden guard again. She watches him for a few seconds, transfixed on the blade.
"He's got the potential to be trouble, Jules." Harkness admits, and leans against the counter to ask Belle for another drink. The bartender refuses, and he scowls. Juliet isn't sure whether androids can really get drunk, or past human nature is forcing the reaction on Harkness. Either way, he's in no position to question the odd newcomer, so she stands and makes her way over to his booth.
"Hey," she begins, immediately regretting the syllable. A guard would speak with much more authority.
There's no light in this corner of the Rudder, but she can still make out the flashes of steel as he flicks the switchblade, and she notes his oddly perfect teeth when he flashes a grin across the bar to Cherry.
Juliet's frown falls into a deep, threatening grimace as she realizes she's being ignored.
She slams both hands on the tabletop, rocking forward on her palms until he has no choice to look up at her face. Maybe she's being too harsh on the guy, but if Harkness is wary about him, there's got to be something going on. She can barely make out the shape of his head as he lifts it up to look at her, and she wants to gut him for staring at her chest for too long. He leans back slowly, setting his elbow on the table behind him as his legs cross with finality. The perfect white teeth make an appearance again when he gives Juliet a wolfish grin.
"If you wanna get closet to me, that's all you gotta say, girl," he drawls.
She recognizes the voice immediately. Only one person in the entire Wastes can have such an annoying voice, and be so sexy at the same time. Reaching down to her Pip-Boy, she flicks a dial and the green light washes over both of them.
Juliet lets out a boisterous, unladylike snort as she stares at the familiar pompadour, contemplating her next move. The shock on his face is obvious, and they stare at each other.
"You little shit, DeLoria," the Lone Wanderer says, and shakes her head at him.
"Same to you, sweet cheeks," he replies, nonchalantly lifting his drink again. She raises her eyebrow, watching him swing the cigarette from side to side, across his lips. This is not the immature, asshole of a teenager she remembers, or even the arrogant and independent twenty-year-old she helped escape from the Vault months ago.
"The fuck are you doing out here, Butch?" Juliet questions, sliding her body into the seat opposite the Tunnel Snake, and leaning her back against the tearing cushion. "Last time I saw you was…I don't remember."
Butch shrugs, and regards her for almost a full minute.
"Goddammit, why are you so quiet all of a sudden?" she demands, and this time his lips quirk up in a smirk. At least she's getting a reaction.
"I owe you a drink for gettin' me out of that shit hole, nosebleed," Butch slides his dirty flask across the table to her, and she makes a face. He laughs while she takes a swig to please him, and then snaps her fingers in his face. The drink burns as it slides down her throat, and she coughs lightly.
"Ain't every day I get to make a daring escape from a metal fucking death trap."
"Why are you out here, anyway?" Juliet asks again, trying to stress the question without sounding like a nag.
"In Rivet City, or this god fuckin' forsaken bar?"
"Both."
"In the city 'cuz I can't afford anywhere else," he explains, turning out the pockets of his jeans, and showing her about a dozen caps.
Juliet vaguely notices the thin white t-shirt he wears under a Pre-War leather jacket. Butch looks much different without a Tunnel Snakes uniform on. She wonders if he's lost it for a moment, until she remembers he gave it to her the day her father left, and she saved his no-good alcoholic of a mother from Radroaches. A light blush tinges her cheeks when she realizes the worn jacket has never left the bottom of her knapsack.
"And I'm in the Rudder, 'cuz, apparently, drinkin' runs in the family," he raises his whiskey glass in a mock toast, and Juliet winces.
"How's your mom, by the way?"
"Dead."
Fuck. She winces again, and he just shrugs.
"What happened?"
"Amata cut off all the drugs n'alcohol from us after you left. She got real sick after a while, dunno."
There's a moment of awkward silence. Juliet is desperate to break it, so she rags on Amata.
"After she threw my ass out, you mean." He chuckles. "You weren't there to hear her say that, were you? 'Hey, Jules. Thanks for saving our lives from my goddamn crazy father, but…get the hell out now. Okay, thanks.'"
Juliet snatches the flask from his hand as he tips it back, and takes a swig, much to his surprise. Butch watches her drain some of the drink, tilting his head slightly.
"She's changed a lot, Juliet. Startin' to think having power like that gets to the brain, ya know?"
"Yeah," she says thoughtfully, and suddenly remembers Harkness. "Fuck."
"What?"
"You haven't been causing any trouble, have you?" A wide, suggestive grin.
"Other than ravishin' daughters and being a total motherfucking Tunnel Snake, naw."
She rolls her eyes, reminiscing back to their teenage days, back to the days of G.O.A.T.s, cake destroying robots, and fist fights over sweetrolls.
Butch, other than looking like the Wasteland chewed him up and spit him out, hasn't changed a bit. He's still obnoxious and lewd, and from the state of his clothes and scratches on his face, Juliet wonders if he's had a run in with raiders. She believes the smooth-talking man in front of her when he begins retelling recent adventures of mischief and trouble.
He's lost a bit of weight since he left the Vault, but there are tell-tale signs of lean, strong muscles under the tautness of his t-shirt. Butch can obviously fend for himself out in the Wasteland, but she's surprised he hasn't been picked apart by Radscorpions considering his only weapon is a switchblade. The Tunnel Snake catches her staring, and stops scratching his head with said weapon. Butch drops his arms and holds them out, grinning as he tilts his head from side to side.
"Yeah, get a good long look, nosebleed. Nobody can resist the Butch-man, baby," Juliet flicks him the bird, but does nothing to hide her amused grin.
They sit in silence for a while longer, Butch having replaced the cigarette with a toothpick, and chewing at the end. Juliet watches him, before Harkness gets up from his seat and heads over in their direction, stumbling slightly as he goes.
"Jules, everything all right?" Juliet is immediately embarrassed by his slurred speech and the protective hand on her shoulder. She claps her palm to her forehead, pinching the bridge of her nose as she slides her hand down. Butch is looking at her with an eyebrow raised.
"Yeah, Hark. He's no trouble, trust me. A fucking annoyance," despite her better judgement, Juliet throws Butch a 'we've got an inside joke' wink, "but he's not dangerous."
Harkness nods in finality, and Juliet stands up. He's in no shape to climb the flights of stairs all the way to the security quarters, so she gives Butch a nod before slinging Harkness's arm over her shoulder, and wrapping her hand around his torso. Butch stands up as Juliet leads the drunken chief a few steps, and follows them out the door. The Lone Wanderer throws a glance back at her old friend, who stands in the doorway. She isn't sure if it's the whiskey, but he looks a bit like a lost puppy. She sighs after a moment, and lets Harkness prop himself up on the riveted wall while she turns to speak to Butch.
"Look…I'm in town for a few more days, so-"
Butch grins, leaning towards her. If she wasn't slightly tipsy, he'd be on his ass for making a move. "Not that easy, nosebleed," he mutters, and Juliet shakes her head.
"Oh, yes you are. Anyway, if you're here when I leave…" Her conscience is telling her to weigh her next words, and the consequences, but her liquid courage ignores it.
"You still interested in starting that gang up again, Butch?"
His eyes widen, and he belts out a huge laugh. Her Pip-Boy says two in the morning, but he suddenly looks like he has reserves of energy to last him days.
"Fuck yeah, Juliet! You sayin' the Tunnel Snakes could ride again?" Her smirk is obvious, and he rolls his eyes.
"Or, y'know, slither. Whatever. Pervert."