Vulpes begins to wander the wastes without purpose underneath the guise of intelligence gathering. He spends his time in seedy dives and open expanses of dead earth. Whenever he hears a woman speak, he hears her voice float past his ears.

He misses her.

It's in a seedy dive christened The Atomic Wrangler where he meets her sniper. He's hidden in a dark corner of the establishment, and downing shot after shot of whiskey that glows from what little light that shines in the bar. He moodily looks down at a spare red beret clenched between his fingers. Vulpes slides in the booth across from him. He looks up, bleary-eyed and worn down.

"What do you want?" he asks wearily, his voice bringing to mind the last time Vulpes saw the man. It takes him a moment to realize that the sniper doesn't recognize him because he has not shed his profligate disguise.

"Erwin," he answers smoothly, not giving away a thing. "Let me buy you a drink." The sniper scoffs, but motions to the empty bottle in front of him.

"By all means," he says, and Vulpes calls the waitress over. She's a cute little thing who stutters and blushes her way through the order, and hurries away from them.

It would be so easy to poison him, Vulpes thinks, watching the sniper greedily devour the amber liquid. A slight slip of hand, and that drink he tries to find solace in would be his end.

Once again, despite himself, he finds himself staying his hand. He simply watches the sniper through hooded eyes. The two men are nothing alike, yet they are brought together by their love of the Courier, and the loss they feel in her absence. The sniper looks at him with an unreadable expression, and asks,

"Do you want to play a game of pool?" Vulpes is taken aback by the offer, and thinks of the Courier. She would be proud of the sniper's attempt to be social, even if he was emboldened by the alcohol. Slowly, he nods, and the sniper stumbles to his feet. He follows the sniper to a pool table where he is handed a pool cue a little too roughly, and they begin to play in silence. Vulpes observes that the sniper isn't really focused on the game, and just wants something to keep his hands from wringing that beret all night.

"So, what brings you here, stranger?" Vulpes asks, affecting his best western accent. "You seem to be drinking your sorrows away here." The sniper visibly winces, and Vulpes feels a hollow sense of triumph.

"Nothing," the sniper replies gruffly, sending one of the cue balls flying. Vulpes easily catches it, and sets it back on the table. After a moment's deliberation, he adds, "Girl I know."

"Oh?" Vulpes prompts, sounding like a genuinely interested country boy. "And what about this girl?"

"She's gone," he answers flatly, and that seems to be all he wants to say on the subject. Vulpes, true to his sadistic nature, keeps prying.

"What kind of girl is she?" The sniper glares at him, pool game all but forgotten.

"She's a courier."

"Well, that's deliberately vague," Vulpes says, amused, even though he knows very well who the sniper is talking about. "She wouldn't happen to be that Courier found outside of Goodsprings, would she?" The line of the sniper's jaw clenches firmly, and he nods. Vulpes notices the suspicious glance the sniper gives him, and knows he needs to back away before he is revealed for what he is, but he doesn't. He tempts a fire in an attempt to burn away the pain of missing her.

"I hear she's thrown in with the Legion, ready to lead them to victory at Hoover Dam," he says evenly, and the sniper throws down his pool cue. He is on Vulpes in an instant, shoving the other man violently against the wall. Vulpes' hat floats to the floor.

"Where the hell do you get off talking about her like that?" the sniper demands, his hands fisted in the front of his suit. "You don't know her at all."

"You sound so sure of yourself," Vulpes answers sarcastically, tilting his head.

"She's a good person!"

"She is, isn't she? Don't you wonder why she isn't here, with you? Where could she be that would take her away from you, hmm?" He says, and he relishes the crushed look that blossoms over the snipers face. However, that pleasure is short lived as the sniper pushes away from him, his face contorted in an expression hanging between grief and rage.

Vulpes leaves hurriedly, oddly disgusted at himself for his behavior.