Pre-war tobacco was staler than dried dog shit and tasted just as bad, but after you've been grazed by a few bullets from a raider's assault rifle, or nearly eaten by a mutated animal with jaws twice the size of your head, you learn to stop being picky about what calms the nerves. Eve and Stu were chain smoking scavved cigarettes outside the Third Rail. The air was cold and the wind only made it harsher, but the two were drunk enough that they didn't care. Some squatters were set up in a makeshift camp half way down the block from them, cooking up what smelled like mongrel meat. Other people were huddled around trashcan fires or sleeping on nearby benches.
"Fucking Goodneighbor," Stu said. There was no animosity in his voice, just an aimless drunken enthusiasm.
"Fucking Goodneighbor," Eve repeated.
It was difficult to tell whether they were bonding over a shared unspoken sentiment or if the liquor just had them bullshitting on the same frequency.
"Maybe they ought to change the sign," he laughed. "Bet there'd be some interesting pre-war scavenge in a place where you'd find a neon sign that said 'Fucking'. Maybe a place like that's already been picked clean. Just think, somewhere out there is a raider who's got a vibrator for a rifle grip. Human ingenuity!"
Eve snickered. She took another drink from her bottle and followed it up with a drag from her cigarette.
"Why don't you ever stay here, Evy? Stu asked her. "It's got to be safer than wandering around the Commons."
"Too crowded," she mumbled, "Most of the rooms are booked up indoors, and the squats are too packed out here. Once you get a sense of the place, the Commons isn't so dangerous. It's worth a roof over your head…even if it's crumbling."
The wind had nearly put out Stu's cigarette, so he puffed on it to light the end up again. "Just stay safe out there. I hate to imagine you going toe to toe with a super mutant with only a pipe pistol," he said. "You ever need a better piece, let me know. I'll snag something for you."
"I've made it this long alright. Worry about yourself out there."
They stood quietly for a while. The all too familiar sound of gun fire rang off in the distance every now and then.
Stu winced. He stared ahead blankly.
Eve slunk down to the floor and hung her head.
Another strong breeze ran through Goodneighbor.
After a few minutes of silence, Eve put her cigarette out on the floor. She rose to her feet and looked at Stu. "Stay with me tonight. You don't have to be back at the castle until Sunday, right?"
"Yeah," Stu replied, still staring into space.
"It's about ten to fifteen minutes from here. We'll get some oil from Daisy at the general store so I can get a fire going when we're there."
Stu finally seemed to come out of his trance. He looked at Eve and nodded wordlessly. His eyes were hurt, but she knew better than to ask. This wasn't for her to bring up.
Just as Eve grabbed the bag of salvage and prepared to leave, an eyebot turned the corner. It floated past them, its spherical metal body bobbing up and down as it flew. Its short metal antennas were picking up a radio broadcast and projecting the audio through the serrated metal speakers on its front.
"…an announcement after city security reported finding him dead in his home from gunshot wounds. The general gave a statement claiming investigators had yet to rule out the Institute or radical ghoul insurgents for the attack which he says…."
"Ay, someone shut that thing up!" someone yelled from the squatter camp.
A bottle flew through the air, missing the eyebot by a few inches and crashing into pieces on the pavement. The machine turned another corner, leaving just as quickly as it came.
Eve stalled for a moment, looking in the direction of the eyebot, but her drunken brain quickly lost interest. She threw her bag over her shoulder, the eyebot already out of her mind.
"Let's go."