After weeks - or maybe months, for all she knew - on the road, facing off raiders and rabid mole rate and, memorably, a glowing yao gui, Yvette was thankful to see some friendly faces. At least she liked to imagine that their curious stares and raised brows were friendly, but in truth it was probably the vibrant blue vault suit that attracted so much attention. At least, unlike the raiders she had come across on her travels, these people weren't openly hostile.

Yvette ducked around another corner, casting a nervous smile toward another curious man, and hurried on her way. It was easy to say that Megaton - which was a run down little town she had stumbled upon by complete accident - was the first actual settlement she had seen since leaving the vault. It wasn't the welcoming, cosy atmosphere of her home, but at least there were people.

Heading up the rickety stairs toward another cluster of run down shacks, Yvette tugged the hood of her jacket further over her bright red curls, and kept her head down.

Above her an ancient, faded sign signalled Moriarty's saloon - and she had never drank alcohol in her life, but maybe they'd have food and a place to camp for the night. With one last look at the lopsided sign, she pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

The place was... underwhelming, to say the least. Hovering by the doorway like a lost kid - because wasn't she? - she let her gaze wander. Not many people were still out so late, and only two of the shabby tables were occupied. It was dark even inside, the bulbs barely a flicker above them - even the bar was dark, the cracked stools barely more than a silhouette.

"You all right, kid?"

Yvette blinked, hazel eyes snapping up to the broad man behind the bar. In the dimness of the bar he looked almost green, skin uneven and blotchy. Yvette stepped forward but the soft reply died on her lips and she sucked in a breath - he was green, with tender red muscle peeking out from beneath his leathery skin. Not to mention that his eyes were faded grey, almost white like the unseeing eyes of the blind lady that her father had treated when she was a child.

"It's rude to stare," the man muttered, ducking his head - and that's when Yvette realised the remains of his nose was only a hollow cavern.

Forcing a smile onto her full lips, Yvette tried to ignore how her pale cheeks flushed as embarrassment flooded her. He was a ghoul, and she knew that - but up close they were so much different to what she had expected. She couldn't help her soft gaze from wandering across him as she shuffled over to the bar, and she hoped her thick hair hid her stare from his unusual eyes. "I'm sorry," she murmured, "I was just... caught by surprise."

The man snorted, and she wondered how he managed it without a nose. "That's what everyone says." He shrugged, but Yvette didn't - couldn't - miss the flash of hurt behind those unusual eyes. Unusual and charming, in their own way.

"I am sorry," she murmured. The bar stool creaked as she plopped down onto it - and at a hundred and twenty pounds she wasn't exactly big. The splintered wood dug into her backside but she ignored it and continued, "I'm Yvette, by the way. You are?"

He only stared, white eyes wide. It was as if no one had ever asked for his name before. With guilt settling heavily in her gut, Yvette realised perhaps no one had. He was a ghoul living in a town full of humans after all. He floundered, mouth hanging open, until he finally muttered, "Gob."

Gob. The name brought a smile to Yvette's lips as she scooted forwards on the tough bar stool. "Well, it's nice to meet you Gob." Perhaps she was being extra sweet to make up for being so rude before, but it was worth it to see the way his cracked lips spread into such a wide, joyful grin. Without thinking about it she matched his grin with one of her own and stuck a hand out for him to shake.

And there her hand hovered, pale under the sickly bar lighting. Gob eyed it warily, as if it was nothing more than a trick of the light. Faded white eyes flickered from the hand to Yvette's frowning face and that lovely smile vanished from his features.

"My bad," she apologised with a nervous little laugh, "I guess I still haven't ditched my old Vaultie habits," the term rolled from her lips without thought as she cast Gob a beaming smile, hoping to ease his nerves.

His frown didn't falter. "You go around offering handshakes to everyone you meet?" he quipped.

A shrug, another easy smile. "Like I said, old habits."

His nose crinkled - or rather, what was left of it. The flaky skin around his eyes wrinkled in a frown, but without eyebrows it was more of a grimace. "You don't want to be shaking hands with a ghoul, kid."

Yvette didn't see why not, but then her gaze fell to the greenish skin and discoloured blotches and the bright, shining red of raw muscle peeking through. She wondered what his skin felt like - was it rough like leather or soft like her own? Did the fleshy, exposed muscle hurt?

"You're staring again."

Yvette's head snapped up at the voice - and with a flush she realised her hand had been hovering in the air the entire time. "Sorry," she murmured, thick lashes fluttering as she dropped her gaze. "I guess it's obvious I've never seen a ghoul before?" The words slipped from her lips without permission, causing her to wince. Oh Yvette, untactful as always.

Yet surprisingly, Gob chuckled. It was a dry sound, raspy even, but it made her chest flutter. "Don't worry about it kid," he answered, "I'm used to it.

He shouldn't have to have been used to it, but Yvette kept those thoughts to herself as she let her eyes flicker back up. He was back to scrubbing the bar top - not that it did much for the stained, cracked wood - and Yvette found herself watching those odd, mottled hands work.

"So uh, you gonna buy anything, or are you just here for conversation?"

Yvette blinked, lips twitching as she stifled a laugh. Oh, he was too cute for words. "I'll just take a room to crash in for the night," she answered, "that's a thing you do, right?"

Gob's lopsided smile was shy, nervous even, as he asked, "with or without Nova?"

Yvette quirked a brow helplessly. "Nova?"

He nodded to the back of the room, where a pretty redhead perched on a rickety old bar chair, fluttering her thick eyelashes at one of the patrons. She was gorgeous - and Gob must have thought so too, by the way his greenish skin tinged pink. He didn't quite meet her eyes as he murmured, "that's Nova. You can spend the night with her, for extra caps."

Yvette flushed scarlet. She had heard of that sort of thing, people that sold their bodies for money or board. True, Yvette didn't hate the idea, but she had no interest in sharing a bed with Nova, no matter how silky her hair was or how beautiful her unmarked skin. "Just the room, thanks," she replied quietly.

If she was honest with herself, it wasn't that Nova was unattractive; but that someone else was much more so. Not that she was going to utter those thoughts aloud, not to someone who flinched from her touch as if she was scalding.

Yvette shoved those thoughts aside drop a handful of caps into Gob's hands. He flinched from her touch, just as she had expected him to, and she offered an apologetic smile. Were people really so adamant not to touch him? When was the last time someone had hugged him, shook his hand?

"Your room's upstairs, kid. Second on the left." He offered her a weak smile - one that pulled oddly at the patch of broken skin along his jaw - and handed her an ancient, rusted key.

"Thanks, Gob," she replied with a smile. For a moment she thought he shivered, as if enjoying the way his name sounded on her lips, but she shook that idea away. It was late and she was tired, letting her imagination run away with her. So with one last wave she hopped from the bar stool and headed for the stairs.

"Goodnight!" she called after him, then waltzed upstairs.

He might have called goodnight too, but the drone of the bar chitchat drowned it out.