Spoon was gone in the morning, payment for his bed bundled in a ragged square of cloth under Carol's pillow. Winthrop mentioned hopefully that the smoothskin might bring him some scrap metal to fix the rattling vents. He was getting too stiff to scavenge it himself.
Charon had rolled his eyes at that. That smoothskin doesn't owe you jack, old man. As much as he didn't want to hope, Charon found himself counting the days until the end of the week. He stood a little straighter every time the door creaked open, hating the sickening drop in his stomach when it was just another ghoul here for their fix.
A week passed. Then two more days. On the eleventh day, Spoon had returned. He seemed to be in a bad way, according to the bar patrons. The story went that he had run into some Talon Company undesirables that had it out for him, and it was only through Willow's sharpshooting that he managed to escape.
Yet as the day drew to a close, that familiar figure darkened the doorway to The Ninth Circle. He was instantly swarmed by excited ghouls, clamoring to hear his tale. He brushed them off though, murmuring that he needed a drink before embarking on his story.
He threw caps on the bar, and Ahzrukhal tossed a bottle of vodka his way. Spoon tore the cap off and started drinking straight from the bottle, forgoing his usual chipped mug.
"Alright, alright. Settle down. First, I need to know where Carol is. She ain't at her place." Spoon finally said.
"She headed over to Snowflake for her usual skinning." one of the ghouls offered, giggling at her own choice of words. Spoon nodded his thanks.
"Good. As far as my story goes, ain't much to tell. I'll be on my way tomorrow. Now that I've got the Talons on my tail, I don't want anyone else getting hurt." His eyes strayed to Charon, and he slid off his stool, nodding his thanks to Ahzrukhal for the vodka. "I'll be back later. I have to go thank Willow, and I still have a whole bunch of goodies for Tulip. Oh! And Winthrop's scrap." he grinned, giving his pack a shake so everyone could hear the heavy clank of the metal.
A few of the patrons followed him out, no doubt interested in whatever he had to barter to Tulip.
Charon sighed, maybe a little louder than necessary as he relaxed against the wall again. He should have known that the smoothskin would forget him. They always did.