July 11th, 2281
Video footage 00489
The Tops Casino, post-confrontation with Benny, Leader of the Chairmen.
The camera focuses in on a table across the room, the chipper beat of a pre-war song booming through the theater as the performers on stage pound through the dance number.
At the table sits the Courier, looking exhausted and impatient as she speaks with her ghoul companion, Raul.
"Well, what did Boone say after we got back from Nellis? I never got a chance to see him."
Raul gave a shrug, scratching at a patch of flaking, scabbed skin as he smirked. "Well Boss, he kinda looked at me like he was scared, then he got real stiff and said, 'You're not Six.'"
The Courier sighed in amusement at her companion's impression of the sniper, shaking her head as a man in a suit began to walk from the bar over to her table. She didn't seem to notice the approaching man as she took a swig of her beer, smiling at the ghoul. "It's really too bad about the… you know… retarded thing-,"
"COUGH." The man in the suit, after a quick zoom in of the lens, turned out to be Swank. He was standing awkwardly beside Six, his handsome face illuminated in the calm lights of the room.
The Courier shut her eyes in impatience, breathing deeply through her nose as the Chairmen continued to stand at the table-side, awaiting her attention.
"LOOK OVER HERE." Swank coughed once more, a beam lighting his face.
The Courier finally looked up from Raul's amused expression, giving the man standing next to her a stiff smile as she nodded her acknowledgement. "Yes, Swank?"
Swank straightened up with an idiotic looking grin on his face, dusting off his suit lapels as he cleared his throat. "Yeah, I would like to extend to you an invitation to the pants party."
He continued to smile widely down at the Courier as the camera focused in on the scene eagerly, Six's face seeming to pause in confusion before she narrowed her eyes at Raul in a side-glance.
"Excuse me?"
Swank's face fell in something between anxiety and disappointment, as if he had been relying on her understanding, and he looked over his shoulder at the bar nervously.
"The-…uh… party. The pants-… Um. With the pants… The party with pants?"
Raul mumbled some quiet Spanish under his breath, glancing over at the camera with a smirk as he then hid his nose in his drink.
"Swank… Are you saying that there is a party in your pants and I'm invited?" Six attempted to help the now sweating man with a smile reserved usually for Boone and small children.
Swank's face twisted in thought before he grinned widely, snapping his fingers like guns at the Courier. "That's it, baby."
"Mhmm…" The Courier nodded, glancing over Swank's shoulder at the view of Benny sitting at the bar with several empty bottles in front of him, his unfocused, narrowed eyes watching the interaction at her table like a hawk. "Did Benny tell you to say this?"
Swank's smile grew a little forced as he seemed to fumble with how to react, shaking his head earnestly in denial as his teeth practically shined beneath the lights. "Yes."
"Okay…" Six nodded, the camera focusing in shakily on her pinched expression of irritation. "No, I don't want to go to a party in your pants."
"Alright!" Swank didn't seem affected by the denial, turning to shine his million dollar smile on the ghoul sitting next to her. "Eh bandito, you wanna go to a party in my pants?"
"No, kid."
"Well okay! Hey! Your loss Chief." Swank winked, though he didn't seem coherent enough to understand the situation, let alone where he was.
He then jogged back over to the bar a mere few feet away, engaging in a loud high-five with the leader of the chairmen, who seemed to be eyeing the Courier in satisfaction as he clenched his fist earnestly in victory.