Tch-Tch
The shotgun stock was reloaded back into its rightful place; the smell of gun powder and oil was overpowering, but the ghoul never took notice of it, anymore. The crimson tips of his fingers fiddled with the edge of his honed knife; a replay of some very disturbing memories ravaged his brain from the trigger of simply holding the blade.
Whoa man, calm down. It's alright, Charon, hey- it's me. I…I think you got them all…nice job man, do-do you want to sit down, or something?
The Lone Wanderer always had a rather sensitive side; Charon's extremely violent and, sometimes, unempathetic nature tended to frighten the boy…but even then, did he never threaten to turn his contract away.
Hey, Charon- heeelllllooooo big guy, what the fuck are you thinking? Staring off into space when we got these fucks we need to deal with. So, you want the left, or right side? Just leave me something.
A snort, and he rubbed at his eyes. Evelyn had nearly succumbed to horrific injury so many times due to her careless nature, but she never seemed to mind the blood he spilled. They were a fantastic combat duo; their relationship in dealing death and barely skimming past it were something they both appreciated.
Knock
An amber glint of light refracted from his blade as it was sheathed. His hand encompassed the door handle, and he opened it. Evelyn was fiddling nervously in place, a thousand cues displayed for him to decipher.
"Why are you wearing that?" The ghoul pointed at Evelyn's fashion accessory, and she burned bright red. Charon was always inquisitorial when it came to something out of habit.
"It's cold outside," she fibbed, crossing her arms and turning slightly to the side.
"No, it isn't." His eyes narrowed at the extremely small exposure of skin on her neck, and before she took notice of his awareness, he ripped the scarf down and growled loudly. A massive handprint was painted in a deep shade of purple. "What the fuck happened?"
Evelyn squeaked and slapped his hand away, her face a fleeting slideshow of every shade of embarrassment. "It's not what you're thinking, I swear- no Charon!"
The ghoul was already stalking down the hallway before he realized his ignorance and whipped around at her. "What room?"
"It's not like that I swear!" Evelyn's hands went to her mouth as the ferryman was lifting a boot to toe into the first door he came to; if she would not disclose to him the merc's whereabouts, then he would just put in the work himself. "I gave Cross your contract!"
The boot was a mere inch from the unsuspecting tenant's doorframe; it froze instantly. There was visible confusion working itself through the exposed muscles of Charon's face, before finally drawing down into wrath. If what she said was true, then he was no longer contractually obligated to refrain himself.
Slap!
"Charon!" Evelyn had placed some space between them, her breathing heavy as she rubbed at her cheek angrily. "What the fuck!"
He growled at his lack of control, turning his back to her and running his hands through his patchy hair. What the fuck was he thinking?
She turned to march away, but a large hand wheeled her around at the shoulder; she squeaked in surprise; she didn't even hear him approach. She was then smashed against his chest, and she wriggled under his vice grip.
"Evelyn, do not leave me. I…I am sorry." His tone was pleading, and his eyes settled on the blooming patch of red skin across her face.
"I'm not going to leave you…I just-" Her facial expression grew weary. "-I just…think we should take a break, from each other…just for a little bit, until you figure it out what it is that you want…it's why I left you in Lake Capers."
He just stood there, his arms still loosely around her as he blinked down passively. "I do not understand. What did I do wrong, Evelyn?"
"Well, hitting me, for one-"
The ghoul tightened his embrace around her.
"Punching Cross in the face, for two-"
"You know what I think of him."
"The feelin' is mutual," the merc drawled from an open doorway, leaning into the frame and crossing his arms, "trust me." His hazy eyes then narrowed at the tinged skin of Evelyn's face. "Fuck happened to you?"
The crimson ghoul said nothing, releasing his hold on her and flexing his hands into fists before he ran them again over his patchy head. A loud sigh erupted, and it seemed to drag on for eternity.
The bounty hunter reached inside the folds of his jacket; he held out Charon's contract in between the grip of two fingers and met the ferryman's hateful eyes. "Hey, it wasn't my idea." He coughed loudly, stowing it safely away, and ran a hand down his face. "That fuckin' kid you brought with ya? Keep an eye on her…makes me nervous, havin' a kid around like that- she's in room 3."
The ferryman gave an obnoxious sigh but did as instructed, leaving employers past and present to themselves.
Lydia did not appreciate the attentions of the crimson ghoul. He was suddenly stalking her, and although it wasn't obvious, those burning eyes would constantly flit to her every move, and she was beginning to feel overwhelmed. She did not know what she had done to garner the extra attentiveness, and she was wracking her brain in thought at what to say.
Charon, on the other hand, was releasing his pent-up frustrations on his task…what did he want? What did that even mean? The Lone Wanderer, too, had asked him the very same question, and he was still nowhere close to finding an answer. His best guess would be Evelyn's companionship…they had been together for months, and she was the void he had thrown all of his past, bitter loneliness into after the Lone Wanderer had died. If giving the bounty hunter his contract was her way of making the situation between them (whatever that was) work, then he would comply.
Lydia was slowly chewing on a piece of overly dry brahmin jerky, staring at him with a question behind her eyes. His own refocused, and he snorted down at her. It seemed to startle her, and she threw her gaze away.
"Is something the matter?" the ghoul rumbled.
"Did I do something…wrong?" Lydia asked quietly.
Charon laughed, the sound like skipping a stone along concrete. It reverberated loudly, and it was something Lydia had never heard before. It was mildly uncomfortable. "No. I am to keep an eye on you, for safety."
"I don't need anyone looking out for me," Lydia barked out defensively before she could stop herself. She bit her tongue, looking down at her feet.
Hey man, I appreciate the assistance, but I really don't need you over my shoulder all the time.
A broad-shouldered shrug.
"Heard that," Cross grumbled over his shoulder, taking a drag of his smoke. "You can walk back to Carly's, if you want."
Lydia huffed, instantly peeved. No response was made, rather, her calculating eyes roved over to Evelyn and Campbell.
"You don't have to come with," she heard the older woman say.
"Charon already paid me the caps- I'm a mercenary who gets the job done, so, you're welcome for the company, Cazador."
Evelyn gave a half-turn, her lips upturned in a teasing smile at the grey ghoul. "Hear that? Someone knows how to finish what they started."
Cross narrowed his eyes dangerously, and it was enough for Lydia to give concern for her.
"Be thankful he does not- you would not be here, otherwise," Charon rumbled aggravatedly, flexing the muscles of his biceps as he crossed his arms.
Evelyn grew an entire shade darker, and her jaw dropped open stupidly at the ghoul. "CHARON!"
"Charon!" Cross mocked her high-pitch squeal, giving a slap on her ass and receiving a warning growl from the other ghoul. "Let's get goin', you thought Lake Capers was fuckin' far."
They were standing at the precipice of a bridge; the once whole structure had crumbled, and they had no way to cross the raging river for miles around.
"Hope everyone can swim," Campbell joked, rocking on his heels.
"Is there really no way around?" Evelyn peered over the edge, a little too close for the ferryman's liking.
"Not that I've ever used." The bounty hunter hacked and spit a dark substance over the side. Both women crinkled their noses.
"That was beyond disgusting. Ew." Evelyn shook her hands in front of her, and then retreated from the bounty hunter's advancement. "Don't you dare."
"Just a small one." He grinned, opening his arms to consume her in a squeeze. He chased after her and she gave a squeak.
Campbell shook his head and blew out a sigh. "Can see if there's a boatman around. Can't imagine no one's been able to cross in some way till now." The tanned mercenary turned on his heel to begin making his way back across.
Charon's employer was busily trying to kiss Evelyn on the mouth; she had her palms flush against his face and arms locked at the elbows. She blew a hair from the corner of her lips loudly as her arms were then swept out from underneath and to the side, and a deep kiss was planted on her lips. Charon tore his gaze down; he didn't really care to watch their physical affections.
The sound of water splashing was heard over the edge; Lydia grew red as all three heads turned to her kicking at another rock.
"Sorry," she mumbled, sniffing loudly and proceeding along in Campbell's wake.
Cross's lovemaking was nearly desperate when they had the time, and she was becoming increasingly concerned over his wellbeing. Regardless, he wouldn't discuss his inner turmoil due to the fact he didn't want to worry her as well, but he was doing a piss-poor job of keeping it from overspilling the jar he contained it in.
"Okay, okay, stop." She interrupted him one night, and he growled lowly in her ear.
He removed himself, going to stand by the open window of the building they had secluded themselves in, peering out to the moonlit wasteland. "What is it?"
"You, you moron," she snapped, reaching for her clothes. Her bra was clasped behind her, and she tucked her shirt over her head, waterfalling her hair down her back. "Please, just talk to me. You're starting to scare me."
There was a flop in his gut. "I'm just worried…is all."
"I know there's more to it than that, don't lie to me," she said warningly, pulling up her underwear.
He turned back around, rubbing at his jaw, when he paused and observed her getting dressed. "Were we done?"
"We are, and we will be until you get your shit together." There was the buckling of her armored leathers, and he garbled in Hungarian. "Don't nem me this and nem me that, I mean it."
A chuckle, despite himself.
And she did.
It was already two days, and he was denied sex the entirety of it. His hands were almost glued to her as he distracted himself physically in other ways- a long kiss that turned into multiple long kisses, a touch of her face, or a stroke through her hair. He honestly thought she would become annoyed with his affection, but she surprised him, and instead, was rather patient with him. It made him feel slightly demeaned, as though she was purposefully coddling him to where he would finally break down and speak his woes.
But he didn't, and it turned into four.
Charon, on the other hand, was soaking up the irritation, and multiple times he practically had to detach the bounty hunter from her and toss him aside like a rag doll. Campbell chewed on his tobacco, spitting to the side, unfazed by it all. If he were honest with himself, he rather enjoyed the company…and he didn't think it was possible for the grey ghoul to be thrown that far. Lydia was beginning to test the waters of the company with her toes, and she found she enjoyed it.
"Thought you weren't allowed to act out against me," the bounty hunter grumbled irritably after the seventh instance of being manhandled by the larger ghoul.
Charon had a look of complete ire over his face. "It is for your protection," he replied flatly, ignoring Evelyn's burst of laughter from the side.
They were in the middle of a firefight, and the merc got struck in the chest. Evelyn was stuck behind their cover on the side of the building providing reloads, and she ripped off his jacket to administer aid.
Cross didn't stop his return fire, and she deftly worked around him in a ritual motion as she had done countless times before with the ferryman. The bullet removed and stimpak applied, he grunted and tossed his empty gun to her, reaching for her equipped rifle to continue firing away.
"So fuckin' many of these bastards," he growled, unleashing his pent-up vexations with the squeeze of the trigger. He drew back behind the brick wall, blinking at the empty space beside him as bullets sprayed on his opposite. "Evelyn?"
A growl, he looked up. There was an open window along the side of the building, and he cupped a hand around his mouth, shouting over the din of the firefight. "Charon! She's rogue!" He just heard Charon snarl loudly.
There was a brief halt in the rain of lead, and he cautiously peeked out to view the raiders stationed along their makeshift bridge between the buildings. There was a loud bang, and a bathtub went flying through a doorway and exploded three people into a gory explosion, before crashing into the building opposite. The remaining two were distracted, and he took a shot, nailing one in the side of the head, the other retreating down the opposite side.
Evelyn was running along the rickety platform in chase, jumping through a widened hole where a door had been. She was soaked in blood, and she had a crazed grin on her face with a string of grenades in her palm.
A fucking demon, Cross decided.
Charon had burst from behind his safe space just as there was a manly scream, and quite suddenly, an explosion. The building went up in a glorious display of fire, cracking brickwork, and splintering wood. Both ghouls froze, trapped in horrific fear.
All four dashed to the scene, shouting her name as they came to the edge of the flames. It was a raging inferno inside, and the merc suddenly felt extremely weak and crashed to his knees. Charon cupped his hands and called out to her, but there was no reply.
A thunk- the bathtub.
They all blinked stupidly at it, and then realized it had walked itself out. A scramble, and the ferryman flipped it over to reveal a white smile in a blackened face.
She lifted both arms in the air, completely fine and overwhelmingly ecstatic. "Ta-da!" She pointed a soot-covered, blood-spattered finger at the merc. "How's that for fucking rogue, you twat."
Slap!
She gasped, and sunk down into the tub and rubbed at her stinging cheek.
"You are so fuckin' stupid!" Cross raged. "I thought you were dead! What the fuck was that?!"
"It's called 'What I used to do on the regular before I met you fucks'," she bit out, ignoring the smarting tears in the corner of her eyes. "You're welcome, motherfucker." She then crossed her arms and pouted to the side, and Campbell let out a boisterous laugh.
"Don't," Charon warned the mercenary, "you'll only encourage her."
"I think it's way too late for that; you damn had us worried this trip to Braxton was for nothing at all, Cazador." Campbell turned away, shaking his head as he went to loot.
Lydia gave a shaky sigh, resting her hands on her trembling knees.
"I like to keep my audience on the edge of their seat," Evelyn muttered into the side of the tub.
She was acting like a chastised child just being told they had done wrong, and Charon gave a weary sigh. "That was much too reckless; if you wish to be stupid, at least have a plan for it."
She knocked the rim of the tub with her bloodied knuckles in reply, still not bothering to look at him. The fire was crackling loudly to the side, and the makeshift bridge was being licked at by the flames. Cross dipped his arms inside her impromptu defense and scooped her out.
"I can't believe you hit me," she sulked at him.
"You have no room to fuckin' talk, so shut your damn mouth."
A humph, and she kicked her feet lightly as he carried her inside the opposite building, maneuvering around the gore she had previously painted.
The dust had settled, and Charon wandered around the raider encampment with his combat knife in hand; the ones who had survived their initial injuries were gripped by the jaw, the edge of his blade slicing cleanly through the jugulars. By the time he was finished, his hands were dripping black. There was the sound of vomit splattering against the concrete after Lydia had spied his post-fight routine, and he grumbled as he rolled his eyes. Sensitive.
Evelyn flit her eyes to the merc as he climbed some stairs, stepping over a dismembered corpse. "…wasn't it somewhat cool-"
A growl, and it was serious. She wanted to cry from the ire he was giving her, but she just chewed her lower lip and crossed her arms instead. There was a bathroom with another tub, and he dumped her inside, ignoring the cry of pain she felt from striking her tailbone.
"You fuck-" The door was closed, and the shower came on. The water was ice, and she shrieked as she tried to maneuver out."-COLD!"
His hands forcibly began to remove her clothes, keeping her pinned beneath the frigid waves of water, and she garbled inhumanely as she was soon left naked. That grey palm rubbed over her face roughly, drowning the hisses she was producing, and she coughed after inhaling some water. The ash and grime soon swirled along the length of the tub, gurgling down the drain as he scrubbed her clean.
She screamed frustratedly, but his hands just continued their work as he began to detangle her ruined braid of hair. "Fucking quit!" she yelled at him, earning a cupped hand full of water over her face. "Blrgrh!"
"CROSS!" The merc didn't betray any outward emotion as he finished with the last strands. "Let me go! CHARON!" Now his eyes met with hers, and the absolute hostility he gave off made her waver, and there was the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. "N-never mind!" The footsteps halted, and she swore she heard a sigh through the walls.
She finally just succumbed to his…whatever, the fuck it was that he was doing. He was almost mindlessly distracting himself with her, and she was shivering under the cold temperature as she laid there submissively. The shower handle was then turned off.
Drip drip drip
The remaining water droplets from the showerhead fell against the floor of the tub, the only sound in the room between them. The merc simply sat against the wall across from her, his knees drawn up with his arms resting over them as he just stared at the side of the tub.
Slowly, her lightly tanned face came up the rim, stopping at just her eyes. They blinked at him, wide and curious as to his next move. No words were spoken, and she timidly reached her arms out to him.
Cross didn't say a word, but his hands took the liberty of stripping down his clothes and proceeding to rip off the remainder of his jacket. When he was just as naked as she was, he climbed on top of her inside the tub, cradling the back of her head in his palm and kissing her surprisingly tenderly. Their lovemaking was slow, and methodical, and he grinded into her with such desperation she gripped the rim of the tub with one hand and cracked it. They froze, and blinked at the piece of ceramic in her palm.
"I'll take it as a compliment," he finally spoke, tossing the destruction over the side and flushing his face against hers. "You scare me so fuckin' much."
She merely wrapped her arms around his neck, observing with pleasure at how his gray muscled torso rippled over her with every stroke he made, and how his fingers made indents along her skin where he clasped at her waist.
