Harkness set the dirty wash cloth down in the sink, rinsing it out and watched as the rivulets of red washed down the drain. After his shift, Lana had made him go wash. It's not like he needed her to tell him that, she was just being his big sister again. He didn't know why she always made a big fuss, at the end of his shift, all the children were already in bed, so it's not like he'd be passing any on his way back to his quarters. And it was only the one spot.

Just then, the door to his room opened, "Harkness?" it was Preston. He'd poked his head in through the door, glancing about the room.

"Have any news?" Harkness asked, turning off the faucet and leaving the dirtied rag to lay over the lip of the rusty sink. Preston didn't seem to be in any distress, so Harkness figured the news were either good or perhaps neutral. Preston stepped into his room, closing the door behind him before he spoke, "I've still got him hooked up to my monitors, and I'm still returning blood to his system at the moment, but the boy woke up, and I was able to learn his name and what vault he's from." He told Harkness with a small smile.

"But," he continued, with an index finger pointing up, "He went right back to sleep after I gave him water and fed him. I don't suppose he'll be awake for another couple hours." He informed Harkness. It seemed a big weight lifted off his shoulders with the news.

"Good." Harkness responded with a sigh, "So, what's the name?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of his cot, pushing his armor over a bit so as not to sit on it.

"Butch DeLoria. He came from Vault 101. I didn't get time to ask if he knew Diana, but I'm guessing he did. How could he not know about one of the only two to leave that vault?" Preston concluded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. He had a few dealings with Diana, first meeting her when she needed him to heal her. She had been struck by a mutie club and needed the swelling in her shoulder to go down before she could move it. One of the more severe club injuries he's seen. Then again, he didn't have to treat many people who got that close to a club wielding mutant.

The second time around, she needed some Radaway. It looked like she'd been out swimming in the Potomac. He soon found out she'd ventured into the broken off bow of Rivet city, looking for Pinkerton. It was odd how it seemed things only changed around here when a vault dweller showed up. Pinkerton had been almost a myth, only seeming real to the elder members of the ship's population. Then in walks Diana, simply wanting to know more history about Rivet City, which led her to uncovering the where-abouts of a man, a ghost, who'd been living right under their noses the whole time.

"Good news. Good news." Harkness concluded. He stared down at the aged metal ground for a few moments before he spoke up again, "Whose going to pay for all his medical bills…?" he'd asked flatly, it being more a question to himself than to Preston. But, being the analytical man that he was, Harkness had already assumed he'd have an answer to his halfhearted question. "Well, the boy was coming here for a reason, correct? We'll have him work for somebody. Anybody. He can pay his debt off that way."

It made Harkness chuckle. "When he wakes up, ask for his résumé. See what kind of a job a machine told him he was good at in a Vault." Surprisingly, that got a chuckle out of the usually very professional doctor.

The morning hadn't been any different from the last. Except now there was a crowd of vendor owners around the table Preston, Harkness and Vera sat at, all spitting out questions like rapid fire, all before business really started in the market and anyone else had a chance to bombard them. They were the same questions, "What's he planning on doing here?" "How long is he staying?" "Are there others coming with him?" and they all had the same answer.

"He didn't say."

As the crowd slowly began to dwindle, the shop keepers shuffling back to their stalls, unsatisfied, Harkness finally got some peace. That's when he looked over to Lana, inviting her with his eyes to take the seat next to him so they could talk security. She gave him a crooked smile from the corner she stood in, near the NukaCola machine, and quietly crept over, avoiding a collision with Angela who had three bowls on a tray, carrying them high on her shoulder. She sat with Harkness, stealing his bottle of cola to take a sip. He gave her a roll of his eyes and adjusted in his seat.

"I'd like to know how this kid is so popular and he hasn't said but two sentences." He spoke in a hushed tone, clearly not wanting the whole gaggle of the marketplace people to come storming back over.

Lana gave a quiet giggle, a sound that was reserved, but no less amused. "How often do we get mysterious young people coming through here on even more murky circumstances? I think it's good for these people's morals." Her eyes shifted coolly over to Bannon. "Have you noticed that Bannon hasn't come at you with his requests yet?" It was true. Usually the man comes up to him nearly every time Harkness found himself alone, demanding topics be brought up during their meetings. This morning, however, he was chattering away with Cindy and Brock. As if it were the furthest thing on his mind. Though, it probably was.

"I didn't want to acknowledge that fact too much… I was afraid if I felt relieved I'd jinx it somehow." Harkness confessed.

Lana gave another of her giggles, "With your luck, you just might." Then, at that moment, Harkness reached over and stole his drink back, finishing it off, and setting it back down on the table top. "Still, though… I'd like us to keep an eye on the boy. Preston says he wants us to look into him getting a job somewhere around here. Says he needs to pay off his medical bills." He gave a smirk. "I'm sure the ship'll be excited to hear that."

"Oh, no doubt." Lana agreed, as sarcastically as she could muster. She raised her hand and gestured over Angela. As the girl came over, Lana grabbed Harkness' bottle, "Dear, could you get me a cola? Harkness is being stingy." She pleaded, handing her the empty one to throw away. "No problem." She grinned and hurried off. Not many aboard the ship knew Lana's sweet side, though that usually meant she didn't like many aboard the ship.

But Angela seemed to have found Lana's unused maternal instincts, buried under self-repressed urges to reproduce. So, even though Angela lost her mother at an early age, Lana had been the one to fill her mother's shoes. She may not be working alongside Gary and her at the Galley, but she was a constant enough presence that they'd formed a relationship beyond a customer at the lunch hour, or the Commander of security.

Harkness was very aware of their relationship, and it reminded him of his wife, and how things used to be… But that was a long time ago. There were a lot of details about that part of his past that now, seemed foggy. Perhaps that happens with age, or he'd rather not remember a lot of it, simply because the memories are too painful.

Either way, that was all behind him now. He couldn't ask for anything better than what he had now, here in Rivet City. He watched Angela come back with a fresh, frosty Cola for Lana and observed the sweet glow that came from Lana when she thanked her. These thoughts never came up often, usually only when the conversations quiet down, and the attention is turned away from him… And Harkness takes the time to quietly watch the ones around him, observe their behavior. In moments like these, he found himself feeling a certain longing. A yearning for what others had, what occurred between two people when they cared about each other. He thought he knew what it felt like, having had been with his wife, but as he watched Lana grin down at the table, even after having said Thank You to Angela already, it was the after effects of that small moment that still lingered. A small warmth inside her that glowed even after the light went out.

He wanted that. He wanted to feel that way. He wished so desperately it were something he could catch in a bottle and keep sitting on his shelf when these moments came along, but life wasn't so simple.

Suddenly, Harkness was jolted from his thoughts when he realized Lana had asked him a question, her big brown eyes staring him down for an answer. "Come again?" he prompted her. Lana gave a curious smile, "I asked if you planned on actually eating something this morning. You didn't have breakfast yesterday, either. Are you feeling sick?" This time Harkness grinned.

"Maybe. I just haven't had much of an appetite till around lunch." He gave a shrug.

Maybe he did have something like that, like a warmth in a bottle. But of course friendship comes with any prolonged acknowledgement of one another's existence. Lana had decided on her own that Harkness was worth teasing and picking on as if he were an older brother, and that's what made it genuine and not forced. Maybe that's why they had a sibling relationship of sorts. Lana hadn't had any, and neither did Harkness.

It was at the end of breakfast that Harkness had determined that Lana was good at filling in the blanks.

"I don't think we should trust anyone from those vaults. They could go behind your back or turn on you at any moment." Bannon shook his head solemnly. He made the comment to Gary, which in turn got a comment from Seagrave, "Oh, are you sure it's not because you won't be able to talk this one into black mailing me too?" Which got a laugh out of Vera and Cindy.

Banon scowled deeply at Seagrave, "I don't think I remember inviting you to this conversation…" he seethed, his thin, lanky arms crossing over his chest.

Harkness stood quietly by his barrel fire, smirking to himself at the conversations among the stall owners. He did that not only to make sure underhanded things weren't creeping around under his nose, (But really, what's the worst Bannon could do?) their frequent banters were one of his few sources of entertainment.

A piece of wood crackled loudly, breaking in half in the fire pit as the heat raised and plumed in Harkness' face. His hands were pressed towards the same heat, his fingers spread slightly. The nights were becoming colder, sending a chill in the waters and frost to collect on the ship's metallic walls. Winter was coming, though it approached slowly. The cold seasons were short in the Capitol Wasteland, the scorched Earth seemed to think the weather foreign every time it came around. It never snowed, though, only needle like sleet rain and hail. Never cold enough for snow.

Now that the seasons were changing, that meant Rivet City would become a target, yet again, for those less fortunate to not have shelter during the cold. That usually meant turning the other cheek as he 'didn't notice' Carlos sneaking in one late night during his shift. But then there were the Super Mutants and Raiders who think they have enough man power to force their way in and stay in to ride out the winter.

But really, the jokes on them, because this old ship holds cold in all its walls and floors, and the only real shelter was from the falling rain and blowing wind. It would be just as cold outside as it was inside. That's when Bannon planned to make a killing with all the fleece blankets that were sold to him in the middle of July. Everyone who saw them and how high they were priced laughed. Come mid-January Bannon would be the one laughing in their faces with his pinky raised as he sipped wine.

Though all these things were to come in the near future, Harkness' mind was still busy ruminating all the upcoming events, while at the same time reminding himself to offer a blanket to Seagrave when the time came because he knew Bannon wouldn't sell him one.

"Harkness…"

The security chief turned to the call of his name, seeing that Preston had come through the bottom deck west entrance, waving a hand to get him to come over. Harkness gave a nod to him before appointing a fellow security officer to keep watch in his leave. A brisk walk later, Harkness was following behind Preston to his office, "The boy is awake again. I thought you'd have some questions for him… And I need someone in the room with me to make sure I don't hurt him…" The doctor grumbled to himself, making Harkness chuckle. "What's that supposed to mean?" He asked with another laugh under his breath.

Preston sighed, turning down his hallway, "What I mean is the boy is insufferable. He was giving me a hard time when I tried to check his bandages and is being a lot less cooperative." He then paused in front of his door before putting a hand to the hatch, "I'm going to stay out here…" Harkness rose a brow. Without being prompted any further, Preston answered, "Every time he opens his mouth I want to strangle him…" And that was all Harkness needed to know before shaking his head and going in front of Preston to enter the office.

Preston sighed and headed off to speak with Vera, leaving Harkness to speak to the young man sitting up on the cot, stroking a comb through his now clean and slickened looking hair. As Harkness closed the door behind him, he watched as a razor sharp grin crossed his lips.

"How'ya doin…?" He asked casually, one leg crossing over the other as he got more comfortable. He looked a lot different when he was covered in less blood. The boy's clothes lay in a heap at the side of the cot, seeming to have been folded at some point, but now lay in a pile of disarray. The boy's torso was bandaged starting from just under his pectorals, a few stains of blood seeping through around the abdomen region. He was hunched in a way in his upright position that let on his discomfort. Though the boy wanted to appear fine and well rested, Harkness could hear the slight strain of pain in his voice and see the lines of stress streaked on his face. He wasn't fooling him.

"I'm Harkness, chief of security here in Rivet City. You collapsed on our bridge the other night, and before you did you wanted to make sure you'd made it here." He spoke, taking a seat in Preston's office chair, and turning it toward Butch DeLoria so they could talk, face to face.

"Yea, that sounds about right. I heard'a this place from a friend of mine, said if I wanted to leave the vault so bad I should come here." He confirmed, then started to adjust himself, his arms raising up to presumably rest behind his head, until an apparent sting of sharp pain ran through him, and he gave a hiccup, freezing and face scrunching.

"Hey, hey," Harkness rose both his hands, leaning forward in his seat to try and calm Butch, "Take it easy. You're beat up pretty bad, so you shouldn't be moving around a lot." The boy's face stayed scrunched, eyes shut tight in pain, but he slowly moved his arms back to where they'd been before. His body was littered in bruises, some nasty, and made him wonder if there were any broken bones, and some were minor. The black eye he had, though seemed old. It really wasn't much of a black eye, only a yellow distortion of his skin pigment in a border like form around the underside of his eye.

Harkness wondered briefly how or why he'd gotten a black eye if he hadn't gotten it while out in the wasteland…

"Yea… That's all that blabber-mouth doctor kept sayin', too." He groaned, slowly adjusting back as to not upset his injuries. Harkness learned very quickly that this boy tried hard to conceal his true ailments, but his body failed him. This was probably true of everything else about him, and it was a good note to add to his slowly growing knowledge of Butch DeLoria. He put it away like a file in a drawer of many, his eyes squinting in just the slightest as he kept observing him.

"Well that blabber-mouth doctor is the one who kept you from bleeding out." He began, something akin to anger welling up inside him, but not quite. "And it's the same doctor who kept me from having to deal with another dead body on our bridge." He informed Butch. "If I were you, I'd be grateful."

"And if I were you, I'd be in the bar already." Butch growled under his breath, not caring at all to meet the authoritive stare Harkness was giving him. Instead, the young man reached down to his black leather jacket and pulled it up to lay over his lap like a blanket. Harkness watched him reach into his inner coat pocket for something, and was suddenly transfixed on the sewn in design of a Cobra on the back. He wondered if Butch had done that himself or if someone in his vault had actually sown that for him…

Then there was a flick, and Harkness watched Butch light a cigarette between his lips, the small flame illuminating his eyes in a way that made them seem bigger. And that's when he realized what he was witnessing.

He quickly stood and swiped the cigarette out of his mouth, smoke leaving in a trail as the man was left frozen for a moment until he realized what had happened, "Hey! What gives?!" he complained, nearly standing up himself, but stayed put.

"No smoking in the Doctor's office." He informed Butch, a stern look on his face as he didn't so much as glance back as he stamped it out on the Doctor's table. Butch returned the look with a glare, "And I don't think you should be smoking at all for the time being, given your current situation." He tacked on.

Butch sucked his teeth, "Listen mister security chief, I've been smokin' since my mom's been too drunk to notice one or two cigs missing from her pack." He shared, "And let me tell'ya, she's been drinkin since after I was born. Hell, I don't even think she quit while she had me…" he trailed off, "So smokin' a little while I got a few scratches…" he finally looked up to Harkness, their eyes meeting, "I don't think that's going to be much of a problem."

Harkness gave a smirk.

He amused him, he really did. When was the last time someone so much as said no to a favor he asked? This guy seemed ready to play ball. It wasn't Butch's fault Harkness was a pro in the little leagues.

"Not my call. Doctor's orders." He then sat back down, "Now we need to get to business." Harkness was done allowing Butch to have his fun. It was time to get back to reality, for the both of them. "It took a lot of time and effort to keep you going, and that also cost a lot of caps. How many do you have, and do you think you can pay it all off?" It came out sounding less like a question and more a demand.

"Caps…" Butch looked at Harkness with an uncomprehending expression.

"Yea, bottle caps." Harkness had a bad feeling he already knew the answer to his own question.

"Like…off'a Nuka Colas…" he mimicked opening an imaginary bottle of cola, like it would get his point across more clearly.

"Yes, bottle caps." Harkness repeated, monotone, lids hooded with dissatisfaction.

"…Holy shit, I thought she was fuckin with me…" Butch sat back in the cot, his back pressed against the pillows, eyes fixed on no apparent point in front of him.

Harkness gave a sigh but wasn't overly surprised, "Well, sounds to me like you'll be needing a job." That statement was enough to get Butch to snap his head over to the security chief with something like disbelief and disdain, "What…"

"What are you good at, Butch? Any special abilities?" Harkness completely ignored Butch's question and leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees, "I can set you up working here with anyone doing grunt work, but you need to speak up now if you've got untapped potential." Though Harkness highly doubted it. He barely looked able enough to read, let alone make money transactions. He'd be stacking chairs in the Muddy Rudder for sure, earning a bullshit wage that he'd be lucky to get his debt paid off in half a year, and that's without calculating costs for his apparent drinking habit.

"I'm a barber."

This time Harkness was snapped out of his thoughts with Butch's statement.

"A barber…" Harkness was hardly believing it. "And who determined you were good at that… because judging from your own hair cut…" Harkness trailed off, his eyes going up to Butch's odd shaped haircut.

"Hey, don't talk ill of a Tunnel Snake's doo." He warned, a hand subconsciously going up to pet down thought up fly aways. Harkness rolled his eyes, "Alright, fine." He sat up in his chair, folding his arms over his chest.

"You give me a cut."

Butch's eyes went wide, "You're joking."

"Not only that, but if I like it, I'll set you up an operation of your own. You won't have a stall or anything like that, but you'll have a license to accept money for your service." He grinned, satisfied with his own fair ruling. It wasn't often he got to make split decisions without the counsel up his ass about something. It was a small victory in his name. But he began to realize the mistake he might've just made if this kid was pulling all this shit out his ass.

"Sounds good to me." Butch accepted the challenge, another razor sharp smirk on his lips, and began ordering Harkness to fetch his necessary tools to get started.