About the same time that Cort was slipping under, Gob was finding that he couldn't, and thought he would give an entire month of Sundays for just a lousy five minute nap. He was curled up on top of the bed in the spare room of the saloon, where he usually slept whenever Nova didn't have a customer to occupy it with. Moriarty had allowed him to continue using it, telling him 'have to keep you going for her, boyo. She'll think you've run off, and you can't stand up straight behind the bar', something that he had found himself feeling grateful for and sickened by at the same time. He thought he might have said the hell with it and slept behind the damned bar as he normally did when the room was being used, then decided that one, he was too sore and tired now to bear it when he didn't have to, and two, there was no telling what would happen if he refused the fucking Irishman's benevolent gesture.
Don't think of that, think of something else, think of anything else. If you sleep, it stops for a while, and maybe eventually you just won't wake up. They'll open the door and find you and you'll be gone, just- He nearly shot off the bed as someone suddenly pushed the door open, and he hurriedly strangled the breathless heaving noises he hadn't even realized he had been making, his terror rapidly moving into confusion as he whispered as much as he was able. "N-Nova? What the hell are you doing?"
She was leaning against the door jamb, bleary-eyed and plucking at the torn fishnets below the hem of her skirt, her hair looking like a firey halo around her head in the light from the floor below. "Coming in to keep you company, sugar, you sound like you need it."
"What? Nova, you can't be in here. He'll...he'll..." Gob wanted to say something out of concern for the drugged out redhead, but couldn't bring himself to do it, even as much as he hated himself for it. If anything happened because of this, it would happen to him. He couldn't bear anything else coming his way, his metaphorical plate being painfully, emphatically full and an inch away from breaking.
She flapped a hand, then moved into the room, shutting the door behind her. "He'll be out like a light for hours. Don't even worry about it."
"But he'll hear you." Gob hissed at her and sat up abruptly, wondering if anything else could possibly get worse for him. He would be lying if he said he hadn't dreamed of the woman coming up to the room with him in it, dreamed about it a lot, but it hadn't been with her drugged out of her skull and him with his nearly beaten in. He also thought, somewhere deep in the back of his head, that maybe it would be nice if it really did get worse, considering that that would probably mean it would finally all be over with. It was getting close to it, he knew it. He had been pissing blood since last Thursday, after snapping back at Moriarty for a particularly cutting set of taunts focused on Cort never showing back up, Gob telling him that she always came back and would outsmart him again. He thought it almost might've been worth the shot to the kidneys just seeing the dumb, surprised look on his face. Almost.
Nova flapped both hands this time. "Hah, no he won't. Even if he did, he'd just think I was going out for a piss and a wash. He might hear you if you keep winding up though, so hushit."
He shook his head, dimly realizing that he was well past the point of being able to control himself entirely. He hadn't even noticed he had been making enough noise to attract someone's attention, a particularly alarming development and not a good sign. Considering how wasted she looked, it must have been substantial. "Nova, I can't. I don't care, I can't take it anym-" Gob stopped, completely dumbfounded as she suddenly flopped on the bed and crawled up next to him, clumsily wrapping her arms around him in a weak hug. Nobody normal hugged him, aside from Cort(and oh sweet Jesus, how he missed that, missed feeling her, the brief moments by now enshrined in his memory, everything from the last embrace back to when she had held out her hands after he had accidentally clocked her, coaxing him off of the floor). Nova had cleaned him up on more than one occasion over the last few weeks, gingerly patting at his face with a rag or helping him up, but this, this was just, just... "N-Nova?"
"Well I care. You're the only friend I've got in this shithole." Letting go, she shoved at him, and still feeling completely poleaxed, he let her push him back on the bed. Scooting up, she sat at the head of it, one hand over her lap and the other on top of his head. "I'll stay here 'till you feel like sleeping, okay?"
Feeling her fingers smooth themselves shakily over his rough scalp, Gob felt some small, too-tight part of himself loosen, and turned towards her as it quietly broke. Curling up against her, one arm flung over her legs and his face buried against the worn cloth covering the side of her hip, he let go of himself as much as he dared, getting a rush of renewed terror at the thought of making any noise. This was...he wasn't sure what this was, but he didn't want to let go, or do anything to risk losing it before he had to. Nova did nothing but continue to stroke his head and back as he silently fell apart, either taking everything in stride or too high to care, and Gob found he didn't much give a shit about why she was suddenly letting a ghoul clamp onto her, as long as she didn't stop him from doing it. She was warm, and she was soft, and her hand wasn't hitting him. She wasn't Cort, but she was here. Knotting up the side of Nova's skirt in his hand, he hugged her even tighter. Oh Christ, Cort. When are you going to be here?
Nova stayed for hours, well after he had finally nodded off, her hand getting shakier as the night ran itself out and she came down, and she finally just placed it on the side of his neck. Unlike Gob, she knew exactly when Moriarty was sleeping and when he was liable to wake up, and when he was actually laid out and not playing possum. He hadn't been her first go around with a domineering control freak, and as much as he could make other people dance to his tune, Nova knew the music by heart. Overbearing sonofabitch. Someday someone's going to fix his little red wagon, sugar, and this will all be over. I could fix it. I could-
She sat up straight, frantically pushing her short hair off her forehead with her other hand, her eyes going wide and more than a little panicked, which ebbed slightly as Gob twitched in his sleep at her sudden movement. Dangerous thoughts, girl. Clear thoughts, and what good did clear thinking ever do you? Looking around at the tiny, grubby room and the large, grubby ghoul next to her, she allowed herself a quiet snort. What good has drugged out thinking ever done you. Well, it got me here when I heard him working up into a lather. Calming down further, she looked curiously over the figure clinging to her lower half, finding it helped to distract her from the shakes. He was rather large, tall but not overbearing. He was normally hunched over any manner of things, glasses, the bar, the sink, and she thought that he might be a nice height if he stood up straighter. Skinny but broad shouldered, and just the perfect height for a man, tall enough so that your lips would press into the hollow of his throat if you-
Oh Jesus sugar, what are you thinking. Making it with Mister tall, rotted and squishy. Nova gave a half-hearted shudder, stopping herself partway through it, not comfortable with what she was trying to do to herself and not wanting to wake him up again. No, you know exactly what you're thinking, you're thinking it's nice to have a man who didn't go straight into your drawers after crawling into his bed. A real sweetheart of one. Too low for your standards. Right, what standards were those again? Nova shook her head. She had never been good at lying to herself, if she had, she wouldn't have been spending this particular portion of her life stoned halfway to oblivion. No, if she had come up in the middle of the night to anyone else, anyone 'up to standards', her clothes would have been off by now, removed out of expectation of what normally followed and not always by her. As it was, having them still on in this room was so abnormal it was almost surreal, just adding another bizarre spin to the whole affair.
Tilting her head and gnawing nervously on her lip, Nova carefully moved her hand down and delicately plucked at Gob's shirt, forcing her fingers into some semblance of straight behaviour before flattening her palm against his side. She didn't suppose another opportunity to poke at him would come up in the near future, and wanted to satisfy her curiosity while she could; hauling him up off the floor had slightly changed her physical preconceptions of him. He wasn't squishy, not really; there was definitely muscle underneath the ratty cotton, more springy than anything else, like someone who hadn't hardened off into complete adulthood(If there was one thing she could say she knew about, the state of the human body in its various conditions was one of them, and to her the ghoul just didn't feel finished). Not for the first time, she wondered just how old Gob had been when his body had gone to hell. Looking at him, it was most likely after he had finished growing. Feeling him, she didn't think he had made it much farther than that. Somewhat over a year ago, he had told her and Silver, rather reluctantly after they had both asked about how much stayed the same, how much worked, that aside from how they looked, ghouls were effectively in the same condition they were when they changed, and yes, everything worked. Asking when and how old he had been, what he had been before he changed had been a mistake, and he had shut down almost immediately, no amount of girlish wheedling getting him to budge. He had merely retreated to the sink and picked up another glass to endlessly polish, the shoulders that had straightened slightly again hunched in on themselves. Silver had jabbed her in the ribs going back to their respective spots, quietly told her that he would probably tell Nova everything if she wanted to take him as a customer, and they had laughed just as quietly, the emotion not quite reaching their eyes. If he had been normal, Nova thought both of them would have gone after him in a heartbeat, just for the adoring way he normally looked at them.
He had been wary of her for the first week, but she had always had a soft spot for hard luck cases, probably because her own life hadn't exactly been sunshine and roses. The way the ghoul had been treated by Moriarty had only cemented her efforts to draw him out. After he had decided that she wasn't going to hit or fling anything at him, words or otherwise, Nova had found her first friend in what had been a veritable drought of lonely years. She had made sure to keep it as platonic as possible; as ruined as his face was it was easy to read once he started talking to her, and Silver had warned her in advance. 'He's sweet, he's lonely, and he has to be off-limits, not that that's a problem with the way he looks and that Godawful smell. There is a man with a desperate heart, sister, one that would swallow you whole. You know the type.' She did, and Nova patted him gently, not for the first time thinking that that sort of need wasn't necessarily a bad thing in the right person, if you were strong enough to take it. One big heart, that never gives up. Almost.
A week ago, he had finally stopped asking her to stop Jetting when she did it in front of him, but she couldn't blame him for the sudden lack of concern, really. It was hard to show that for someone else when you were getting the shit kicked out of you like clockwork, especially if that particular someone was doing nothing to stop it. He said nothing about that, either, only gave her the same sad look he had used whenever he had brought up the drugs, which she had also not been trying to stop. He had kept asking for the longest time though, starting when she did; not badgering her about it or anything severe, just quietly bringing it up whenever she looked like she had gone too far off the rails. Looking down again, she wondered what her current location meant for that. Have I just lost a car or two, or everything from the engine to caboose? Whatever it is, it's time to go, time to skate, it's getting early, it's getting late.
Cautiously slipping out of his grip and moving him around with the skill of long practice, Nova carefully placed his arm across his chest, freezing for a moment when he rolled onto his back before letting go of his wrist. His head had tilted back, and there was that little hollow spot on his throat, still covered with skin and still perfect. Nova considered things. He was sweet, she was still pretty damn high, and she was more than positive they could be quiet enough; and those hands...ragged or not, they looked almost graceful, wide palms and long-fingered, good for so many things. He didn't smell nearly as bad as some of her more colourful clientèle, and would probably be one hell of a lot more attentive to her. He was also so torn up, inside and out, it was heartbreaking. She debated for a moment, considering, and then shook her head. Sleeping with him, that kind of sleeping with him was out of the question. Moriarty would turn it into some kind of a weapon against him, and would probably turn her out; indentured with a roof over your head was still a roof over your head, and she couldn't risk losing that with the state she was in. Besides, with the squirrelly way he had been acting, it would probably be something a whole lot worse than being suddenly homeless. It would definitely be something; finding out you were bedding down with a whore who had serviced a ghoul on the side would be a real business killer for a lot of folks, and if she couldn't bring in caps, well. Money talked, and she would walk. Continuing to stare down at him as her frazzled mind banged from one thought to another, she started shifting from foot to foot, uncharacteristically nervous and fingers thrumming against her stomach as she looked down at his poor, sad face. But maybe sugar, just maybe, one little thing to make yourself feel better. One tiny, secret, insignificant-
Darting forward, a sudden rush of adrenaline lending her enough control to keep herself light on her toes, Nova leaned forward and pressed her lips against Gob's, her arms held out to keep her balance, wavering like a little bird on the crest of a sharp wind as she concentrated on what she was feeling. They felt almost cool, which was unnerving, and dry, which wasn't, considering the amount of Brahmin-mouthed louts she usually had slobbering over her face in the run of a week. They were also surprisingly firm and smooth, rather like brushing up against a worn scrap of weatherbeaten leather. That moved. Moved? Oh shit, shit! Nova skittered silently back, still up on the balls of her feet and ready to bolt until what he was doing sank in. He was smiling, a sweet, open and unguarded one that she didn't think she had ever seen on his face before. Emboldened when he didn't move any further, she crept slightly closer. Even when she had seen him smile at the Vault girl, it hadn't been quite like this. Oh he had been happy, he was nothing but happy on the rare occasions when she managed to blow through, but there was always that look in his eye, the lines in his face, looking like a kid who was expecting some bully to yank his teddy bear away and pull the stuffing out, one who had had it happen before and knew it was inevitably going to happen again, no matter how hard they tried to deny it.
She frowned, thinking. It was happening again, she supposed, except this time it was Gob who was the poor beaten teddy, and the Vault girl was the kid Moriarty was setting up to knock down. Nova was of the firm, delighted opinion that the girl however, would do a lot more than sit defiantly on the floor. Would be able to do more, especially if she still had that big merc bastard following her around. Gob knew him, had told her he was massively dangerous, a complete asshole, and would do whatever the kid said, no matter what, no questions asked. Cort had gone crazier than a shithouse rat over Gob losing his letters, and something like this? Nova was betting her reaction would be a show you could sell friggin' tickets to. She fidgeted in excited expectation and withdrawal. Now if the dippy little wingnut could only hurry the hell up and get here, before I have to do...something. I could do something. Oh, no, the hell with that, what I did tonight is already insane. No, no and no, sugar. Definitely not.
Pushing that dangerous, independent and entirely too clear thought away, Nova refocused on Gob's face, and what was still there. The smile stayed for a few more minutes before disappearing, and this time all he looked like was asleep, the weary fatigue, the sick fear gone entirely out of him for the first time in weeks. Creeping back over, she looked at him, feeling a little amazed. I did that. He doesn't even know that I did, nobody will. But I did that. I-I think I want to do that again. Deciding she had been daring enough for the evening, Nova moved quickly to the door, juddered to a stop with a muffled squeak after opening it and then turned, rapidly flicking the blanket on the bed half over the top of Gob before practically running out on her tiptoes and shutting him back in by himself. As soon as it was closed, she cocked her head, green slanted eyes suddenly looking almost savage as she made her way down the balcony, boots unerringly landing on the portions of the floor that would not squeak or groan as her hands trembled and quaked.
Walking back into her room and rooting through her things(she was back in her proper place now, and noise was safe, noise in here would be wonderfully misleading if any little dicked pitcher with big ears woke up to listen to it), she pulled out a Jet inhaler, eyeing it with a calculating stare that would have set Colin Moriarty's instincts off like a twitchy Mini Nuke in a hailstorm if he had seen it. She couldn't go cold, even though she knew she was capable of it. The slimy Irish shit would know almost right away, if not immediately, what she was trying to do and that something was up. That she was planning. Carefully holding the drug away from her, feet twisting in place and the other hand clenching up with the effort of not jamming the entire dose into her needy body, she depressed the trigger and released half of it into the room before quickly placing it in her mouth, eyes closing in pleasure as she sucked the remainder back. Placing the empty inhaler somewhere visible but not conspicuously so, she crawled into her own bed and sighed, feeling the first comforting rush as the Jet hit her. No, she couldn't go cold, but she could go cool. Just enough to keep an eye out. Just enough to know, and maybe get a better handle on things when the right time came, for whatever or whenever that was, and time to figure things out. Not enough to do anything, she couldn't dare, but maybe just enough to run and open her mouth to someone who could. Just enough maybe, for Gob.