She should have ignored the summons. From everyone really, but particularly the NCR. She half cursed the day she sought shelter within the Lucky 38, bruised, starved, rain soaked and ironically dehydrated. But she couldn't bring herself to truly loath its amenities. The security was enough to kill for, but the seemingly endless food stores and running appliances made her bite her tongue when House requested she meet with them.
The NCR were foreign to her, as most things were once the bullets struck, and if she were honest, the only reason she was relieved at House's orders was because she barely had to walk a block in order to find them. Not even the Mormon fort seemed worth the travel, as of late.
With mock enthusiasm, she entered their embassy, ignoring how unimpressive it was compared to the rest of the city. It hardly seemed worth dressing the part of a New Vegas ambassador and suddenly the hem of her dress chaffed her calves as a reminder of her wasted efforts.
After wandering the halls devoid of any real authority, the urge to give up growing rapidly, she was approached by a man so generic, she wouldn't be able to pick them out of a line up. With a few bumbling words, he confirmed her appointment was currently waiting for her and apologized profusely as there had been some form of accident with their monorail. The word "explosion" passed though one ear and out of the other as the details were irrelevant to her purpose of visit.
As she passed through grey hallways, noting with a sigh that finding her way out would be equally tedious with her pipboy left back in her suit. She briefly glanced down at the odd tan line on her arm in its absence as she argued the practicality with herself for the second time that day.
Practicality. The word itself spoke measures about how she felt with her current life. The bullets were the most exciting thing she could recall, and even upon being presented that news by the good doctor of Good Springs, all she could respond with was "Huh…". She occasionally wondered if she ever had been an emotive person. Aside from the occasional irritation and mild amusement, she hadn't felt much above boredom. She blamed the desert. She blamed it even more so when it failed to give her a worthwhile mirage on her way to Vegas.
She was led into a lackluster office and asked to wait as the diplomat she was scheduled to meet was fetched. She briefly considered complaining that they weren't already present, but concluded that it didn't truly matter. She sat down on a chair that faced the desk, not uncomfortable, but not inviting as she observed the layout of the office. She never remembered being in an office before but somehow knew that the layout was unimaginative, sterile. The picture of whoever she was meeting with's family sat angled as if to brag that they were capable of producing offspring in a land devoid of resources. She resisted the urge to prop her feet up on the desk as she waited.
The door finally swung open behind her after several minutes. She didn't bother turning around, but took a second to make sure her face was inviting enough before the door closed and footsteps made their way to the other side.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, miss." The man spoke as he slid into the chair behind the desk. She quickly glanced between him and the picture, but maintained her smile as she realized this was not his office. "There was an explosion at the base." He explained. He paused, watching her face intently. "And you do not seem to care." He said with a small smile. A heavy silence settled between them, even she could feel.
"How would you expect me to feel, Mr….?"
"Crocker."
"Right." She said, glancing obviously at the photograph on the desk.
"I would expect you to at least feign concern" he said, his voice slipping into a honey smooth tone. "But you don't care about much, do you Six?" he asked, his brow raised.
"Guilty" she said, finally raising her feet to rest on the desk, ankles crossed. "I bet Crocker does, though."
"Indeed he does." He responded as he stood. He calmly walked past her and to the door. The click of a lock could be heard, but neither acknowledged that it had happened. By the time he sat back down, she was no longer smiling.
"I wish I could say I place your voice, but it seems to have blended with all of the others talking at me day by day."
"Oh, I promise you, I do not waste my words, as such. Everything I speak serves a purpose."
"For you."
"For me. But also for those who cross my path, it's not often that they get to walk away." He said, giving her a knowing look.
"Legion." She stated plainly.
"Legion." He nodded. She didn't react. "Admittedly, this is not how I assumed this would go."
"What did you expect, Mr…?
"Inculta."
"Weird name."
"It's Vulpes, Inculta is just the surname."
"Still weird."
"My apologies for not settling on a numeric identity."
"But you settled?"
"It was gifted."
"They settled."
"It has a meaning." He bit out.
"As does everything, so I'm told."
"It means Fo—"
"Stop." She cut him off. "I don't care. I honestly don't even care that you're pretending to be NCR. Just tell me why I'm here so I can tell House I did what he asked and he'll leave me be."
"Kill House." He said standing, placing his hands on the desk to lean in her direction.
"That's it?" His composure faltered.
"Yes?"
"You realize he's a computer, right?"
"He communicates through one, yes. But he himself is not one." She could see him getting angry.
"So, you've been inside to meet him?" she goaded. He walked slowly around to the front of the desk.
"Do you remember me, Courier?"
"You are not noteworthy, no." she said, looking up at him indifferently.
"Don't worry, I won't lash you to a cross, like the rest of these degenerates." He said as he grabbed her legs and lowered them to the floor.
"The boy with the dog head." He leaned into her personal space, hands on either side of her, gripping the armrests.
"Why doesn't this phase you?" he asked, his voice low, the threat lost on her.
"Because it doesn't affect me." His brow hardens. "I'm only here to get House off my back, so I can go back to my suit and bask in sweet isolation where his robots won't harass me every waking second about the 'fate of the Mojave', as if ANY of it matters to me." The inflection towards the end of her statement is what caught his interest.
"But what if you killing House truly shapes the future?" he prods. She rolls her eyes. "You don't understand the impact your position poses." He stresses. Her brow lowers and she moves forward only to finally recognize that he's caged her in.
"Move." She states plainly.
"Is that how House got you here? A simple demand?" She moved to push him away, but he pushed her shoulders back into the chair before she could gain traction to do so. "How much do I need to ask of you in order for you to choose a side, Six?"
"I didn't even choose that name, how can you ask me to choose an allegiance?!" She countered. Her cheeks had gained a slight flush as she stared up at him with ire.
"Choose your own self-interest, if you have to." She raised an eyebrow. "Kill House. The robots can't nag you without him. Keep the tower locked up, for all the rest of us care—it's never been opened before, what does it matter to us, now?" He implored. "As Legion, we have no use. Can you expect the same from the NCR?" A disinterested expression returned to her face. Her body relaxed under his hand as she rested back in the seat.
"How?"
"Is there anywhere he doesn't allow you to go?" He asked, removing his hand from her shoulder and returning it to the arm rest.
"Not that I've noticed."
"Anything unusual?"
"Aside from the giant talking computer and numerous robots?" His growing irritation showed on his face. He closed his eyes and took a moment to breath before settling his gaze back on her.
"Are they equally spread out, or do they collect more in one place than others?
"I guess there are more around the giant computer?" He leans a little closer.
"You guess?"
"Yeah." She glares back. "I guess."
"Elaborate courier." He demands. "What is the layout like?"
"Would you rather I just show you?" she bites out. He blinks, physically pulling himself away from her to scrutinize her offer.
"You toy with me."
"No. I don't think I'm even capable of 'toying'. If getting you inside means me finally being LEFT ALONE, I'll fucking do it."