Cross was now intrigued by the progression between the smoothskin and her bodyguard. Whatever the issue, she seemed unwavering in her commitment to ignoring Charon completely now; who hovered directly behind them like a real boogeyman ghoul.
"Charon." Well, that didn't last as long as he thought. "Go wait for us by the raider campsite."
Ouch.
The ghoul didn't respond, or even give a predicted nasty look his way; he merely pivoted on his foot and left as ordered. When they were finally left alone, she indicated for him to continue with the nod of her head.
"So, I see you got your bad habit back."
The bounty hunter took the last drag of said bad habit, tossing the burning butt on the ground when it was finished. The wind picked it up and carried it off before he could extinguish it, and they both watched it tumble away down the sidewalk.
"It's almost a guarantee, with me," he rumbled.
They continued on inside a little storefront, and he led her back through the dim hallways to an open maintenance room. There was a clutter of miscellaneous items on shelving scattered about, and a large filing cabinet against the back wall that had been shoved to the side.
"Ah yes, the janitor's closet; so exciting." Her tone was so dry Cross couldn't help but let out a grating laugh.
"Think you can crack through that safe in the back wall? It's been untouched." He pointed at the rusted locked box peeking out at them from behind the cabinet. "I'm a shit lockpicker."
Evelyn sighed, setting her pack down to the ground and unstrapping her jacket from her person. Cross raised an eyebrow muscle.
"Last time I did this, I ended up ripping the seams of my jacket," she explained, pouting at the memory. "Was my favorite jacket, too."
Cross was fixated on her full pink lips displayed so prominently until she shed her layer to the side, and her skin-tight shirt was left on exhibition. Holy hell.
He had to force himself to look away. After all, he was asking this woman to literally rip a safe out of a wall with her bare hands. If that didn't put the fear of God in him, then he was as stupid as Betty always told him he was.
"I'll need a crowbar, or something." She held out a hand to him expectantly, and his eyes immediately snapped to her chest again. "If you have enough time to stare you have more than enough time to start looking," she said coolly.
Not my damn fault. Let's hope you don't rip your shirt, too. He grunted and went perusing around, finding what he needed. "Here." He handed her the heavy bar and leaned against the doorway as she set to work.
With a grunt, she slammed the honed edge of the rod into the crack of the safe, wiggling it back and forth for some leverage, and then leaned against the prybar with all her might. A squeak escaped her as the doorframe busted open dramatically with a firework of a bang, and she tumbled into some metal shelving. A spillage of pill bottles and bundles of cash crashed to the floor at her feet.
"Whoa! You okay, kid?" Cross ambled over to her just as she was grabbing purchase from a shelf to lean on. The shelf snapped, and she gave another yelp as Cross reached out to break her fall. The ghoul managed to grab her by the forearm, but a bottle rolled under his foot, and he ended up faltering into her.
Both crashed to the floor; the steel brackets riding out a domino effect and cascading around them. Evelyn was pinned beneath him in a manner that was much too suggestive for his comfortability.
Evelyn was covering her face with her hands and she was laughing hysterically. Her face was aflame in what he assumed was embarrassment, and when she finally calmed down and met his bewildered expression, she began to laugh loudly again.
"You're-you're-" She took a shaky breath. "-the worst fallback guy, ever." She giggled. "So especially bad at everything."
A sudden, overly accustomed heat flared in the pit of his abdomen. Her face was slightly pink now, and she was biting her lower lip and grinning foolishly at him. Those deep indigo eyes held him for a moment much too long; the warmth from her supple figure intoxicating.
His heart uncomfortably skipped a beat. Getupgetupgetupgetup-
But his body betrayed his thoughts, and he cupped the sides of her face tenderly with both hands, a patchy thumb tracing the small curve of her jawline. It was the first occurrence after a very long time that he touched skin that soft.
She didn't protest, or, God help him, smash his face in. Those lips were now slightly parted, and he felt her tremble in all the right places. He readjusted himself to straddle her hips firmly, and she released a breathy gasp. He was very much aware of how hard he had become, and considering from the angle he was sitting, he was sure she felt it too. One hand released the side of her face, boldly grabbing the underside of her shirt to hike it up and over her lingerie. That bone for an index fingertip lightly traced over a few scars he identified as bullet entry wounds, and he felt a mounting desire as she shivered, her bosom bouncing as she shifted beneath him.
Well, fuck. There was no going back now, and he wasn't sure he could stop unless she made it clear she wanted him to. With her crazy predisposition, he was risking death; this was probably the most paramount way he could ask to go out.
That hand now moved to her bra, and he pulled it down; enthralled at the sight of her breasts bobbing free. The women he had been sleeping with for the past couple of centuries either had nothing left, or just the remnants of pectoral muscle he was so accustomed to seeing. Once in a great while, someone would have half of a whole, but he didn't complain; he enjoyed them all. But now as he grabbed a handful of her and gave a light squeeze, the sultry moan he was rewarded with wiped all previous cards from the table.
He was so fucked, and perhaps ruined, for the rest of his days.
Those insanely blue eyes were staring up at him with so much longing, now, and it was all he needed. The years of accumulated sexual experience set him to work rather quickly. He didn't know the last time he had grown so damn excited, and he was stone-cold sober. As much as it hurt his pride, he wasn't entirely sure he would last very long.
Those smaller hands slowly came up to encircle around his biceps as the ghoul bent down and kissed her fully on the mouth, and she gasped pleasurably into him. Whatever lucid thoughts he once had were now reduced to a muddled mess, and his tongue wrapped skillfully around hers. The pressure from his throbbing erection was now beginning to grow painful, and he slipped a hand down to the cold buckle of his belt.
Before he could even begin to free himself, powerful hands gripped the backside of his jacket, and the ghoul was effortlessly lifted into the air. Evelyn gave a surprised squeak as his weight was suddenly removed, and her eyes widened in shock.
"Charon!"
Oh, shit.
The ferryman was extremely pissed off at this point. Not so much at Evelyn, or even the other damn ghoul, but just in the general sense of things.
Hey, man, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here, ya know? You got friends, Charon. Don't have to go it alone all the time.
Their partnership had been comparatively efficient up to that point; he killed things, and she kept him good company. It was straight-forward and simple.
I mean, I get it. Ahzrukhal was a straight-up creep, I can't imagine what it was like to work for the guy.
No. No one really knew. No one had to play witness to the heinous acts he had committed, seen the strings and what they pulled for that grinning puppeteer. There was so much blood dripping from his hands; it was arduous to hold onto things.
In all honesty, he truly did appreciate Evelyn. Much like her predecessor, she was genuinely kind and cared about his wellbeing. People like them were a few and far between in this Hell; he was lucky to have ended up in her service. But how could she not understand that? How could-
A thundering bang sounded in the far side of the plaza, and the ghoul dropped all sentimental thoughts and dispatched himself as swiftly as he could manage.
"Charon!"
In hindsight, the bounty hunter wasn't much of a threat…before.
Now, Charon vowed to himself that the slimy bastard would never so much as look at Evelyn, ever again. He knew very well what the perverse merc wanted from his employer, but he didn't expect he was to act so damn quickly on it. Then again, he didn't think she may have wanted it too. That stung him, in an unfamiliar way.
The ferryman's formidable grip directed Cross into the hallway across from them and launched him with all that his strength granted. Charon may not be as physically strong as his employer, but it was still rather impressive, especially considering the height and weight of the victim ghoul. The bounty hunter went sailing, crashing straight through the rotting drywall. Cross groaned as he slowly picked himself off the floor in a completely different room, the dusty air itching his throat into a cough.
Evelyn quickly refitted her top, tucking her exposed chest back inside its garment securely and yanking her top down. Charon was already making his way out of the storage room, and even though his back was to her, his murdering aura was palpable.
The bounty hunter's knee joints popped aloud as he struggled upright on his feet, wiping away at the debris that had collected itself over his person and giving a light shake.
"Charon, stop!" she shouted, her trembling voice piercing through his enraged entanglement of thoughts.
The ghoul froze on command. Evelyn stood before him protectively just as the glint of a gun sparkled through the damaged framing.
"Whoa, whoa-" Evelyn had one hand placed firmly onto Charon's chest, the other raised up in a surrendering fashion. "-back off."
"Just let me shoot that motherfucker." The merc's buried anger had now risen forth like a vengeful spirit. The complete and utter loathing shared between the two ghouls was enough to drop a man dead. "What the fuck is he to you, anyway?" he snarled.
"Calm down." Evelyn started slowly, her breathing heavy and eyes wide. "Go take a walk."
"A walk?" Cross chuckled spitefully at her, his thumb clicking the hammer back on the revolver.
Evelyn felt Charon's entire body tense underneath her palm. "I know you don't want to shoot us."
Cross grunted. Well, she was partially right. He had no intention whatsoever in causing her harm, but…the ghoul she was shielding…Cross very much wanted to plant a bullet right between those burning eyes. Nonetheless, any foul play he committed realistically sentenced him a dead man. In no way could he kill her, especially after that. But offing her companion was a sure-fire death sentence; he honestly didn't know if she would hold herself back in revenge.
"Fuck." The hammer was slid back into place, and the gun disappeared from view. "Fuck!" He then stormed off, slamming the door open with so much force the trim cracked from its casing.
The sound of a loud commotion could be heard down the hall as Cross took his anger out on anything within striking distance.
Charon revolved his squinting glare back down to his employer, and she was bringing her fist up, decking him in the jaw like a man, hard.
"What were you thinking?" Evelyn shrieked out at him. "Are you fucking stupid?!"
The force from her blow propelled him off his feet; her strength in that small frame always caught him off guard. He stumbled back inside the maintenance room, crashing into the fallen debris with a pained gasp. His jaw was effectively cracked in half.
At that moment, his brain screamed to retaliate; to protect his life at any cost, now that she had inflicted damage upon his person. It was a clear breach of their contract, and he was free to defend himself as he saw fit. The fluorescent light above him haloed as he dizzily blinked at her, her three silhouettes forming back into one. She was now sobbing, one arm hanging limp at her side as the other drew across her chest in a half-hug.
His shotgun was trapped beneath his bulk, and he groaned as gravity forced the heavy weight of his head back and his eyes closed. There was no cohesion to his thoughts, and he feared he would pass out at any moment. So, this is what other men came to experience when she lashed out. They were all trivial pieces on the war table, and she had taken her croupier rake, coldly transposing him to join all the other damaged pawns.
The sensation of a burden bestriding him brought his hands impulsively up, but his movement was sluggish, and he could only focus on remaining conscious. Although, he gave himself some credit. He was lucky he wasn't dead.
Wet drops splashed on his face, and he felt a flare of annoyance despite everything. Then there was a blossoming heat in his lower jaw, accompanied by an itching sensation; the calling card of a stimpak. His fingers curled inward as the throbbing pain now slowly receded into a dull ebb. With enough strength regained, he forced himself to sit upright, and Evelyn was slid down to settle in his lap.
"That hurt," he rasped, gingerly working his jaw.
There were still tears flowing down her cheeks; the top of her shirt was soaked. "I'm-I didn't…I-"
Ugh. He hated crying Evelyn; it made him feel extremely uncomfortable. The barking thoughts of confronting her outright were now chained and locked away in the recess of his mind. He sighed noisily through the caverns of his nostrils.
"Was that something you wanted?" he asked.
"Wh-what…?" She rubbed her eyes roughly, the skin turning red. She sniffled loudly. "No, I don't want to hurt you."
Charon growled. "That wasn't what I meant." And he glared at her disapprovingly.
She developed a ruddy shade and shamefully covered her face with her hands. "Why does it matter to you? I-um…yes." The last part came out so quietly he almost burst his eardrum straining to listen.
He internally groaned. From the very first day he began to travel with her, she had never requested the company of another man. Either way, he didn't care; her personal concern in sensual affairs was hers alone, so long as she wasn't put in harm's way. Besides, most men were off-put by her vicious tendencies, and the risk of dismemberment wasn't a direct turn-on. At least, not to most sane men.
The mercenary…however.
He clenched his sore jaw so tightly the pain created stars in his eyes. No; it was none of my business. I overreacted.
"Are…are you okay?" she whispered, and he rested his hands on her forearms.
"I have felt better," he snarked. At the sight of her quivering bottom lip, he gave an exhausted sigh. "I will be fine."
She leaned her body against him, and he allowed himself a quiet moment of respite, resting his chin atop her head and closing his eyes.
