How in God's irradiated world was he supposed to be around her after that?! It was perhaps the most sinful cock tease he had ever received. He was sure she felt just as miffed as he was, the sexual tension now radiating between them was so painfully acute, he was half-tempted to just strip her and be done with it. Anything to bust the awkward cloud suffocating over them would have been surely welcomed.

To hell with it all.

A drawer from a cash register gave off a loud ring as he slammed it shut. Well, if there was one good thing to come of it, her damn bodyguard seemed to completely shunt his existence off the radar.

The ferryman habitually rubbed at his jaw, wincing. The merc mentally grinned. Good to know he wasn't the only one to get fucked up.

After finding odds and ends of assorted things, they continued on through the procession of stores.

"La Fleur," Evelyn read the faded words with a distinct accent. "Either a boutique, or a florist; probably nothing good inside." Regardless of her statement, she bent under the broken archway and stepped inside.

"You speak French?" Cross inhaled on the cigarette he had lit, rubbing his shoulders and looking around the room. He felt Charon ghost behind him in the shadows.

"Do you?" she inquisitively redirected at him, opening a drawer that held no contents.

"Nem." He grinned at her, puffing a large O ring through the air. "Csak Angol és Magyar."

She paused and her face screwed up in concentration. "That's…Hungarian. Are you Hungarian?"

"Half," he admitted. "My father was." His finger swiped a film of dirt off a surface, their easy conversation fishing that intimate moment they had shared. "Don't know many people who could deduce that correctly."

"An educated guess." She shrugged.

"Yeah, damn educated," he muttered, eyeing a hint of skin as she stretched on the balls of her feet for a high shelf. "What other languages do you know?"

Charon had come to her side, easily grabbing at the box her fingertips were scraping at. He set it down for her on the table; the dust that billowed making her sneeze.

"Sarcasm," she replied. That earned a snort.

The lid was lifted off, and her eyes widened. A small book was pulled from the depths of the carton, and she gently overturned it in her hands. The ferryman was peering over her shoulder at the cover with minor interest.

Cross couldn't make out the words from his position. "You find Moses's Bible?"

She flipped the pages open, ignoring his quip. "It's The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald…I haven't read it since I was a child."

The name rang a bell somewhere in the rotted jumble of his brain, but he didn't care much for it. "Educated," he reaffirmed, smashing the butt end of his cigarette against the counter. "Let's go check out that warehouse."


"Hey."

Evelyn, what have I told you, time and time again? I do not think even Aristotle had as much a fuss with Alexander. You are no great king of Macedonia, but you can at least pretend to have the responsibilities of one…which, I say ironically, is perhaps your greatest attribute, and your worst downfall; your imagination.

"Hey, kid."

I do not want to do this anymore, Mother! I-

"Jesus wake up!" The authoritative rasp broke her from her thoughts, and she startled back faintly. "See a goddamn spaceship or somethin'?"

She huffed peevishly at the ghoul for harassing her private thoughts. The soft texture of her hair she was caressing in between her lips fell. "What?"

"I said, would you mind openin' this damn door?" Cross repeated irritably. "Handle is locked." After a moment, he added. "Want a crowbar for this one too?"

Charon grumbled something under his breath, shoving the other ghoul to the side and encompassing the metal knob in his grip. With a forcible turn, he broke the lock and put his shoulder into the wedge of the frame, throwing his weight into it. The door shuddered and then lurched open. Ignoring both of them, he went inside.

"And what exactly are you good for?" Evelyn rudely asked the merc, moving to follow her companion.

The merc cracked his neck to peer at the doorway; the ferryman could be heard stomping around inside. With a quick sidestep, he intercepted her route. "Been meanin' to show you," he answered suggestively.

Those stonewashed hazel eyes were boring into her, and she flushed hotly from the intense hunger they emanated.

They cannot touch you; they will kneel in the dust before your tower, but you must not answer their calls. Keep hidden away, my Evelyn. Do not let down your hair.

That massive gray hand came to her neck, his rough fingertips tracing around and nestling into the base of her braid.

For a man that wants is a man that tries. He will chant his song until you have memorized the words, but they are poison. It is his anagram for a slow death. Do not listen; scream, and curdle his blood with your harpy cries.

"Just make sure the hound is chained somewhere this time," he muttered, reluctantly bringing his extremity back to his side.

Evelyn let out the breath she was subconsciously holding, and he spun away to walk inside.

My hair is shorn, Mother; he scaled the walls on his own.


The Vault-Tec warehouse ended up being a bust.

"Seriously, I found emails from disgruntled employees and their complaints about the plumbing in the bathroom! One terminal had a log in it that was an old Pre-War video game." Evelyn was ranting inside the manager's office. "This place used to be a fucking supply chain. A supply chain, and yet nothing for Pip-Boy's! Just-just vault-suits and fucking pens!"

She plopped into a chair and rotated around, angrily clicking a ballpoint she filched.

"Well, we tried. Give yourself that much." Cross was perusing through a desk, his cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. "Too bad you can't hack into the supervisor's; bet it had some intel."

The clicking ceased. "Guess we're both bad at something."

An indiscernible clutter of words vented angrily from Charon as he exhaled and arched his back in a stretch.

"C'mon, big guy. Tell me how you really feel," Evelyn goaded.

The ferryman grated his jaw, deliberately.

Cross blew out an extended stream of smoke, filling a drawer before closing it shut. He flicked the ashes to the side. His mind was wandering on its own, again, and he was thinking back to the taste of her mouth.

"Can we talk?" He suddenly pivoted to her, hitching a thumb over his shoulder to her towering stalker. "Alone."

Evelyn bit her lower lip and then nodded. Her eyes flitted to meet Charon's. "I'll come to get you when we're done. I'll meet you outside."

The ghoul hesitated in proceeding; his knuckles cracked loudly as he formed his hands into fists. "I shall await your return," he replied dully, turning on his heel to leave.

After Charon's heavy footfalls receded away, the bounty hunter scratched the back of his head and squinted down at her. She was blushing madly and refusing to meet his eyes.

Neither of them uttered a word.

Cross cleared his throat and inhaled on his cigarette. "So." He watched her take a seat on the edge of a table, and she was distracting herself with undoing her braid.

"So," she repeated, her attention enraptured by her handiwork.

The air was so stifling between them, he was sure it could be bottled and sold. He exhaled the hit, and then tossed the remainder of his smoke to the ground. Fuck it, why am I getting so worked up over this? If this goes on any longer, we'll both go crazy.

Evelyn eyed him suspiciously as he walked up to her, coming to a stop when her kneecaps began to dig into him. He rested the palm of his hands on her inner thighs, slowly pushing her legs apart. Keeping his contact firmly on her, his hands then traveled to straddle her waist, and he pulled her groin flush to his. For the second time that day, he grew dangerously heated and stiff at their close contact.

Evelyn's breaths were short and shallow; those oceans for eyes followed the movements of his hands as they came up to unfasten her jacket, those hefty fingers undressing her with practiced ease. A shiver ran down her spine as those jagged fingertips gently traced down the sides of her shoulders; her jacket falling to the table. Her shirt was hitched up and came over her head to be discarded to the side. With one hand, Cross reached around her chest and unclasped the strap of her lingerie. The bra soon joined the growing pile.

The mercenary abruptly paused and stared down at her so intensely she felt her face flare up like a furnace. He then gave a hint of a smile and bent down to kiss her so passionately she cried out in surprise. Those hands were ablaze, now. Whilst he kept her lips busy with his own, his deft fingers worked on removing her boots, socks, and finally coming to the buckle of her pants. She was making little pleasurable noises as his tongue was entangled with hers and he sucked on her lower lip.

She helped him by lifting herself from the table as he shimmied her jeans and underwear straight to the floor, wasting no time on his own. His leather jacket met with the mess on the ground, and his pants soon bundled around his ankles. She was wet and warm when he pulled her towards himself again, and he felt her palms dig into his chest to stop. Their lips came apart with an audible smack; their heavy breathing seemed to fill the room.

"Wait, u-um-" she stuttered slightly, her bottom lip tinged red from his abuse on her.

His cock was in full view for her now, flush and rigid against her thigh, digging into her skin. It was bigger than she expected, and she blinked at him nervously.

He was taken back for a moment, and a thought occurred to him. "Is this…are you-?"

Evelyn shook her head, her wild mane of hair bouncing around her shoulders like a tawny waterfall. "No-no. It's just…been some time. Take it slow, for a bit?"

He nodded down at her, mentally unsure if he could, honestly. His dissatisfaction from earlier was gnawing at him to get the job done, but he didn't want to ruin her affair, either. If it went well enough between them this round, he may be able to explore her more thoroughly in the future.

One large hand planted itself steadfastly on her hip, directing her towards himself. He felt her tremble under his touch, and so he brought his second hand up and tenderly clasped her jaw in his palm, his fingers stroking her face. Their eyes closed as he kissed her again, a little more slowly this time, and he felt her relax slightly. He removed his hand from her face and rubbed a hard nipple with his thumb, moving in slow clockwise circles.

Her moaning was escalating, and it only fueled his incessant, immediate need for her. It took a lot of willpower to not simply have his way with her so forcibly. But her body was beginning to relax under him, and he decided she was ready.

He groaned aloud as he slowly entered her; she was so hot and incredibly tight, for a split second he wondered if this is what sex used to really be like. An internal blinding flash temporarily distracted his thoughts, and he focused on his breathing as he slowly slid himself back out. Her hands were gripping his shoulders rather painfully, and he cupped her chin to look up at him.

"Don't break me, okay?" he breathily joked, kissing her forehead before going down to the base of her neck. He sucked on the skin there as he re-entered her, and she whimpered lustfully in his ear.

After a few more agonizingly careful strokes, Evelyn slowly widened her legs around him, grabbing at his hand and sucking on his fingers. She splayed her other palm firmly on the table for support, arching herself further into him. He growled at her for distracting his careful rhythm. He gripped her hips with both hands and experimentally shoved himself roughly inside, the feeling of his shaft being completely enveloped making him grunt. She didn't cry out or appear distressed, so he quickened his tempo with longer, harder strokes, and he immediately regretted his decision.

She thoroughly enjoyed it. She was kissing the inside of his palm while breathing out those ball-busting noises and moans.

He, on the other hand, was so pent up from his previous excitement that day that he forgot he was practically done for the moment he entered inside of her. He couldn't force himself to slow, though, even if he tried. The building pressure was too intense for him; his fingers created indents in her smooth skin, and he bottomed himself out in her as he came.

The sheer number of stars that filled his head was enough to temporarily blind him, and he held onto her as he rode out the euphoric wave that pulsated down to his toes. When the high had finally settled, he gently released himself, shivering as he withdrew, and glimpsed down at her coy visage.

Well, damn. That was embarrassing, to say the least. It was the quickest fuck he had ever experienced, even if it was one of the best. The final, gratifying release after a few days of chasing and an extremely bothersome tease was the most work he ever had to put in a woman.

As enjoyable as it had been for him, though, he always made sure his ladies were taken care of first; it was only good bedside manners. So here he was, the woman he wanted most finally at his fingertips, and his performance was anything but deliverable. For the first time, he was at a loss for words. Instead, he stroked her leg with his fingertips, carefully regarding her expression at him.

She smiled teasingly. "I was just getting started."

He narrowed his eyes as his ego took the blow. "Payback; for that night you cracked me."

She threw her head back and laughed, her breasts bouncing along. "I'm actually surprised you can move so well after that; it's only been a few days."

"I'm still sore," he confessed.

Fuck. It really was only a few days ago. Whatever initial anger he held for her had long dissipated, though. Damn women and the witchy charm they held over him. This dame nearly killed him, and here he was with his literal dick in his hand for her. He would never learn.

"That was fun." She scooted backward from him and gathered her clothes, moving to redress herself. "I have to clean up, so, kick rocks."

The merc reached down to hoist up his pants. "Dismissed just like that, huh?"

She gave a small shrug, clasping her bra behind her and tossing her curly hair over one shoulder. Besides the lingerie, she was practically naked, and he wanted to memorize the image in his brain for the rest of his damned eternal life.

Why on earth she would choose someone like him to be so intimate with, he had no idea. And truthfully, he didn't really want to ask.

He was afraid she may not have an answer.


The mood between them was…different.

Relaxed. Charon concluded. A little over twenty minutes had passed since he was delegated to waiting outside for his employer's return. When Evelyn had stepped through the door and into the late afternoon sunshine, she had met his eyes briefly and quickly looked down to her feet. The mercenary followed along behind her, and he was…close. As though they were adrift along the sea, and she was his anchor; he was brushing against her, in a way that made Charon wary.

His first thought was to react with violence; assaulting the ghoul and filling him with lead was usually his go-to strategy. But before he could relay his thoughts into action, he thought back to their scuffle just hours ago, and he halted himself. There was no direct threat to his employer, and he did not wish to make Evelyn upset again due to his illogical behavior. Besides, upon observing her reaction to the bounty hunter's proximity with herself, she did not seem to mind. She almost appeared…content.

He grumbled at himself. Whatever conversation occurred between them had apparently put her in a lighter mood. Happy Evelyn was much preferable to violent Evelyn. And the relationship the two were beginning to form was ultimately none of his business…but if the merc were to undergo unfortunate circumstances and succumb to death, well, it would be no great loss.

So, there's this guy I used to be friends with-I mean, he was kind of a punk, back when we were kids. But I think he needs help, and I told him it would be o-kay to travel with us, ya know? Anyways, wait until you meet him; his name is Butch. Just, go easy on him. He gets worked up pretty quick-

"You good, big guy?" His eyes had to refocus on the face directly below him, and she was frowning. "You kind of zoned out there, for a sec."

Charon snorted and uncrossed his arms. "Yes. Shall we continue?"

"Suppose." She twirled around, grabbing at the straps of her pack. "Where to?"

The mercenary adjusted his jacket. "Ain't much between here and Hark's Regional Park. I suggest we continue for as long as we can."

A nod was given, and they set off.