Acquired Tastes

The teetering sign outside Jack's place was almost bigger than her lopsided brothel. Gage chuckled to himself as they drew near, remembering her poor attempt at advertising, that somehow still brought in the business. Probably because there was nothing in the Commonwealth quite like it. Still holding Bossanova up, Gage stopped a few feet from the ginormous sign, craning his neck up to read it.

"Jacqueline "Jack" "Call Me By My Surname and I'll Kill You" Paddywack is a raider with a bad name and an even badder attitude!

"Want chems? Jack's got you covered!

"Murder? Only the finest, cleanest cut throats this side of the Commonwealth!*

"Prostitution? Pick your piece of ass and Jack'll name her price!**

"Slaves?

"No. Come on now, what the fuck, man?

"…Nah, just kiddin' ya. Seriously, we've got shitloads of slaves.

"So come on down to Jack Paddywack's Fun Shack, the baddest place in town!"

Gage bent over double laughing, managing to set Bossanova down before he dropped her on her ass. Time and time again, he'd told Jack to change her stupid sign. She'd read a stack of pre-war magazines with some of the worst advertisements known to man, and yet believed she'd hit an untapped goldmine.

His eye trailed to the small print beneath the huge, white letters of Jack's erratic slogans, and burst out into fresh peals of laughter.

"*Unless specified otherwise—see terms and conditions for full details and special orders

**Deathclaw orders for premium members only. Jack Paddywack's "Wack That Jack" Prostitution Services claims no responsibility for any injury, including blood loss, amputation of limbs, beheading, severed genitals, internal bleeding, organ failure, broken bones, punctured lungs, hemorrhaging of the brain, heart failure, radiation poisoning, and minor bruising. All deathclaw packages are non-refundable upon survival."

Tears were now streaming down his face as he choked and spluttered, Bossanova squinting up at the sign in utter bewilderment from her place on the ground. Only Jack would do something like th—

Bang.

Gage scrambled for his sidearm as he dragged Bossanova upright again, before remembering it had been fried in the underground facility. Then he stopped, a tight feeling in his chest.

Jack Paddywack leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms, plump lips twisted into a familiar coy smile. Her sienna skin glowed in the rising light of the wasteland sun, and Gage dimly noticed she'd changed her hair, shaving the sides and twisting the rest into a fierce, black knot at the top of her head. Her strong nose was now slightly crooked, and he wondered how long it had been since he'd last seen her.

"Going to shoot me, Gage?" she purred, gesturing to his empty holster.

"I asked him the same thing," Bossanova muttered as Gage grinned, though his chest still felt constricted.

He let his eye travel over her a little, enough for her to notice, and then met her gaze again. She raised an eyebrow. Gage ignored this and nodded to the sign. "'Wack That Jack'? Since when did you arrange deathclaw fucking?"

"Since there was a market for it," Jack replied sweetly. "With the right precautions, my clients live long enough to be repeat customers. And believe me, they pay big for the survival."

They stared at each other, and then broke out into snickers. Gage's stomach tightened at her smile.

Bossanova coughed lightly, reminding him that she was here. Jack turned to her, and glanced questioningly back at him. "Who's the ghoul? I didn't realise you'd need my special services."

Gage shot Jack a withering look. "She's—"

"Overboss," Bossanova replied crisply, straightening up a little and fixing Jack with a lofty stare. "And you?"

"Madame of Nuka World," Jack said with equal abruptness.

"Oh good. Men are easier to keep in line when they're getting laid, and the women less likely to blow their heads off."

Jack blinked and then snorted with laughter. Bossanova grinned back.

"I'm Jack," Jack said, looking a little more relaxed.

"Mrs. Bossanova."

"Mind if we crash in one of your rooms for a while?" Gage interjected, conscious of the rising sun. "Figured it'd be quiet at this time of the morning, and I don't want to parade her in front of the others like this."

Jack tilted her head to the side. "But you think it's safe to bring her here?"

"Yeah, well, I…"

I trust you.

Gage pushed the dangerous idea away quickly. No. Not even Jack. "Look, will you fucking help me or not?"

Jack snorted and unfolded her arms. "You always had such a way with words." She frowned and then sighed. "Fine. Get her in."

Gage grunted in thanks and helped Bossanova over the threshold.

"Of course, you still have to pay." Jack slammed the door behind them.

Jack's brothel had the strange feeling of home. To others it was just a whorehouse, and a good one at that, but to Gage, the place spoke of comfort. The furniture was all in working condition, the lights were dim, the rooms pleasantly warm, and the surfaces clean of blood. There was a small shelf full of books and magazines, which were also the only things in the place not nailed down. He knew as well as Jack raiders would never bother to steal them, even if they ever learned to read.

Jack led the way up the narrow stairs to the topmost floor, and waved her hand at an open doorway down the hall from her private quarters. Gage dumped Bossanova unceremoniously onto the sagging bed, and she squawked in surprised as she landed with a heavy flump. Bossanova kicked out irritably, catching him hard on the ass, and he leapt away, swearing.

"I'd have done the same," Jack said between giggles. She flapped her hand at him, shooing him from the room. "Ladies only. Gotta patch her up."

Gage slunk out, trying to ignore his own aches and pains, and limped down the hall to a room Jack pointed out to him a few moments before. Slowly, he took his armour off and set it down on the floor, every inch of him protesting. He made his way to the bed, sitting down and staring around, unsure what to do with himself. None of his visits here had been for anything but the obvious.

After a while, Jack came in. Gage felt his stomach tense.

"She's out like a light," Jack said. "Had to up the med-x dosage, but we got there in the end." She paused thoughtfully. "Gotta say, she don't look like much."

"Underestimating her is a bad idea," Gage replied, thinking of the Safari Adventure. "Though I'll admit you ain't seein' her at her best."

"What happened?"

"Imagine deathclaws, but bigger, stronger, and more pissed off."

"I'm imagining it."

"Now imagine Nuka Town full of 'em; a machine producin' more and more."

"Ah. Shit."

"Yeah."

"Maybe I could work them into my special services somehow…"

Gage snorted with laughter, then grunted as pain shot through his midriff. Jack walked over, stopping in front of him. She tucked her fingers under his chin and forced him to gaze up at her. "You look like crap," she said gently.

"I feel it too." Gage resisted yawning. It had been a rough day, and an even rougher night. He absentmindedly put his hand against her leg, but she suddenly let go, stepping back.

"Oh no no no. You know the rules." She grinned her wicked grin, pulling out a handful of stimpaks and passing them to him, along with a single syringe of med-x. "If you don't have an infection by now, then the stimpaks already cleared it up. You can do the rest." Jack's eyes lingered on him for a moment, and then she sauntered from the room.

Gage watched her go, before lying back on the bed and covering his face with the crook of his elbow.

Damn it.

Three days later, Bossanova was up and walking again. Gage noticed her attitude had become frosty since they'd first arrived, barely speaking to him. Finally, Gage decided he'd had enough. He found her downstairs in the brothel's waiting area on the third morning reading a book titled 'The Iceman.' He paid it little notice. Reading wasn't really his thing. "Boss," he said as he settled himself in a chair opposite her.

"Gage," she replied, her tone cold and clipped.

He folded his arms and stared at her. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Bossanova didn't answer immediately, her eyes flicking to the end of the page. Then she glanced up at him, her face impassive. "Care to elaborate?"

"Oh don't try to bullshit me. You've been funny ever since we got here."

"And why," she said delicately, returning to her book, "would you care? As you reminded me the other day, we're not friends. So if we're not friends, then we're just business associates, and that means I won't waste small talk on you." She raised her hand and waved him away lazily.

Gage didn't move. He blinked, rattling his brain to figure out what she was on about. Suddenly it struck him. When they'd left Safari Adventure they'd argued—although if he was honest with himself, he'd bitten her head off and she'd refused to rise fully to the bait. "But…"

"The last few days I've been bedridden, either out of my mind on painkillers, or in absolute agony. But the peace and quiet has been nice, and exhaustion has left me with little tolerance right now. I'm tired of you trusting me, only to panic and compensate by treating me like dirt straight after. It's boring." Bossanova turned a page in her book idly. "So go away until you've decided where I stand with you."

She said it with such finality Gage knew the conversation was over.

Well, it was what he'd wanted, Gage thought as he climbed the stairs to the top floor of the brothel. Or was it? He'd gotten so used to her warm and friendly demeanour, the opposite was like being dropped into a frigid lake.

Gage snapped from his thoughts as Jack stepped out from the shadows, poking him hard in the stomach. He grunted in surprise and raised an eyebrow.

"No pain?" she asked sweetly.

"No pain," Gage confirmed, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Good thing I'm around to save your ass." She poked him in the stomach again, catching him off-guard. Laughing, she said, "Not much of a raider to fall for the same shit twice."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, biting back a grin.

"Your boss is doing fine too," Jack went on. "Did you know ghouls are immune to disease? I can't tell if she's bullshitting me, but apparently nothing can survive long enough to cause an infection. She doesn't have a fever, so I'm taking her word for it."

Gage didn't want to admit he had no idea what caused infection other than dirt, so said nothing. Apparently not getting sick was one of the perks of being a ghoul.

"Anyway," Jack continued, her voice low as she leaned towards him. "We haven't had a chance to catch up yet."

"Lead the way."

Her eyes lit up mischievously and she motioned for him to follow.

He watched her ass as he walked behind her, and felt himself stir at the knowing grins she shot over her shoulder. How she could look so good in loose fitting combat pants and a stained flannel shirt, he didn't know.

"You still off the booze?" she said to him from across the kitchen as Gage dropped into a nearby chair.

"Yeah," he said, surprised she'd remembered. She tossed him a Nuka Cola, and he caught it with one hand and quickly prised the cap off on the coffee table. His attempt to show off was rewarded with the bottle slipping, spilling cola everywhere, and Gage swore as Jack laughed. She threw a dirty scrap of fabric which hit him in the face, but he mopped it up quickly without complaint before dropping the rag at his feet.

"So," she said, settling down in the chair opposite him, a glass of vodka to hand, "last time I saw you, you were telling me about your grand plans to get rid of Colter."

"Last time I saw you, your nose was straight," Gage quipped.

"One of the customers got a little too rowdy," Jack said, rubbing her crooked nose absentmindedly. "Nothing a shotgun couldn't cure."

"Customer?" Gage sat up rigidly, the tight feeling returning to his stomach. "I thought you didn't take customers anymore?"

"I don't. He was bothering one of my girls."

"Right." Gage tried to settle again.

Jack leaned forward, smirking. "So...your plan worked?"

He was grateful for the change of topic. "Sorta. The new boss is shaping up. Not what I was expecting, but she knows how to keep Nisha in line and she's actually trying to get this place running, so fuck it. It'll work itself out."

"I'll admit, I thought something went wrong," Jack said, looking oddly serious. "When you stopped turning up, I thought you might have cut your losses and left, or...or worse."

Silence filled the room.

Gage drained his cola for something to do, and Jack got to her feet, clutching her vodka like a grenade. "I'll get you another drink."

He watched her as she bustled away, feeling warm. It had been Gage who'd convinced Jack to move to the park in the first place. He'd known her for a long time—as long as he could have known anyone. She wasn't associated with any gang, but she had the balls and smarts to carve out a neat piece for herself in the raider world. The others knew not to fuck with her—she was the queen of the whore market, and could cater to every and any taste. Gage thought she'd be perfect for keeping things from boiling over in Nuka Town.

What he hadn't expected was his reliance on her after shit really began to hit the fan. When Colter's attitude and Nisha's threats drove him to the edge of his patience, Gage had come here and lost himself for a night or two every week.

Gage stood up. He suddenly felt hot—far too hot. Had to be the fucking armour. He undid the straps and with a grunt pulled it off, setting it on the floor. By the time he was done, Jack was by his side, holding out a fresh bottle of cola. Their fingers brushed as he took it from her, and he sat himself back down, staring at her feet.

"Well, I'm glad you ain't dead anyway," Jack said, flopping into her chair and crossing her legs. "The girls would have missed you."

Gage snorted, meeting her eye again. "I haven't been with one of your girls in years."

"I know." She grinned. "And yet you kept coming back."

"And you kept lettin' me." He stretched out, relaxing again. The weird atmosphere in the room was seeping away, the familiar, comfortable buzz of lust taking over instead. He could see it in her hungry expression, feel it in himself.

Gage swigged on his cola, anticipation coursing through him. They both knew what happened whenever he visited. Jack didn't even charge him for it anymore, and he told himself that was the reason he returned so often.

Jack stared at him from across the room, her dark eyes twinkling over the rim of her glass. She sipped the vodka deliberately, carefully. Gage could see the liquid clinging to those fine lips. She ran a finger over the glass and then sucked the alcohol off it, never breaking eye contact. Gage's imagination immediately went into overdrive. He took another gulp of cola and choked as it went straight up his nose.

"Smooth as ever," Jack said, grinning. She drained her glass and set it down carelessly. "Are we playing games today, or should we just skip to the fucking?"

"Skip to the fucking."

"Good."

She was on her feet and halfway across the room before Gage was even out of his seat. Jack shoved him back against the wall with a bang and pressed her mouth against his, her hand massaging his crotch. Gage's heart pounded as he dragged her shirt over her head and threw it aside, before bending down and running his tongue over her breast. She seized him by the jaw and forced him back against the wall, tilting her head to the side.

"Have you forgotten the rules?" she murmured into his ear as she pulled at his belt, loosening it. "How things are done under my roof?"

"No," Gage replied, the feel of her hand at his throat intensifying the urge to have her. "I just wanted to try my luck."

"Did you?" Jack's fingers tugged down his zipper and her hand slipped inside his pants, running along him the way she knew he liked it. She kept the pace for a few seconds and then stopped, biting gently on his ear. "I think you need to earn my good graces. What will you do for them, hmm?"

"Anything," Gage mumbled, wanting to pick her up and fuck her where they stood. But he wasn't allowed to touch. Not yet.

"Anything?"

Gage swallowed and nodded. Jack's eyes lit up with mischief. She kissed him hard, nipping at his lip and gripping his hair as she ground against him. Her breasts pushed on his chest, and it took all his resolve not to reach up and run his hands over them. Jack's teasing was merciless, and by the end of the night he would be a desperate mess.

God, he loved it.

"Undress me," she whispered as she played with him.

Gage obeyed, knowing he'd have to move himself away from her tantalising strokes to free her from her clothes. He worked quickly, resisting returning the favour. He'd get his chance later. Within seconds, Jack was standing naked before him, and she pushed him back, her eyes telling him he still wasn't allowed to touch. She rewarded his obedience by taking hold of him again and picking up the rhythm, smirking when he groaned and leaned his head against the wall.

Jack hooked a finger inside his mouth and pulled his head down to face her. Her kisses were fierce now, and slowly she ran her palm across his face. Gage felt almost drunk, her touch hot on his skin. Her fingers stopped over the strap of his makeshift eyepatch. There was a pause as their eyes met, and she tugged at it, trying to pull it away.

Gage clamped his hand over hers.

Shit.

They stared at each other, Jack looking surprised. Panic shot through him. He hadn't meant to do it, hadn't even thought about it. He'd never stopped her before, but then she'd never tried to do that either. Would she think he was weak, or pathetic, or…?

Jack smiled a soft smile, softer than Gage could ever have imagined on her sweet lips. She eased her hand away, letting it fall onto his shoulder with a small squeeze. She kissed him gently, tenderly, and for a moment, Gage didn't know what to do. Then her next utterance sent a thrill through him.

"Kneel."

It was the command he'd been hoping for, and his awkwardness evaporated. Gage grabbed Jack by the shoulders and slammed her bodily into the wall, dropping to his knees without hesitation. He didn't wait for further instruction, but pressed his mouth between her legs, staring up at her. Her thighs trembled beneath his grip as Gage began to worship her with his tongue.

The walk back to Nuka Town was uncomfortably silent. It was as if he wasn't there, Bossanova strolling ahead and humming, admiring the scenery as she went. Gage skulked some distance behind, battling with himself. Jack had been a nice distraction—the distraction he always needed when things were difficult. But now he was with his thoughts, and there was no more dangerous place to be.

Did he trust the boss?

Against all his better judgement, he wanted to. But he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. Like Connor, Bossanova made a very good show of caring. Gage had believed every lie, every false act, every gesture designed to put him right in the firing line. But he was older now, wiser. He wouldn't fall for it again.

And yet…

"Boss?" Gage said, before he lost his nerve. To his great surprise, she stopped and turned to him expectantly. His question solidified in his throat. He couldn't talk to her about this again. He just couldn't. She'd already said she was done with him. It was better this way.

Bossanova stared at him for a few moments, and then continued walking. Gage followed her, kicking himself, until she spoke. "Good time with Jack last night?"

Gage nearly tripped over his own feet. She was looking over her shoulder at him, her eyes stern but her mouth twisted as if trying not to laugh. He grunted in response.

"I could hear Jack from downstairs," Bossanova went on as if they were discussing which Nuka Cola was their favourite.

"Yeah, she's not exactly quiet," Gage muttered.

"I'm sure you did fine."

"God, please shut up."

Bossanova laughed as his cheeks grew steadily hot, and Gage gritted his teeth. He made a point to march ahead, which took some effort, as he had to catch up to her before overtaking her in an aggressively dignified sort of way.

"So is Jack your girlfriend?"

Gage glanced over his shoulder and did stumble this time. "Girlfriend?"

"You know. Your partner. Love of your life. Etcetera."

"No. We just fuck."

Bossanova frowned a little at this and picked up her pace so she was walking alongside him again. It was as if they were trying to race without running. "Ever had a girlfriend?"

"No," Gage said, wondering where the hell this was going. "Never wanted one."

"So she's your friend?"

"No." He was starting to get exasperated with her prying. "Never needed them either."

"Why n—?"

"Why all the questions?" Gage snarled. "You wouldn't speak to me yesterday."

"Didn't like that, huh?"

"I couldn't have given less of a fuck," he lied, staring out to Nuka World in the distance and wondering how long it would take to finally get there.

"Ah. And there was me hoping Jack would fix your nasty temper."

"Keep hoping. I'm a miserable bastard whatever happens."

"Except when Jack is asking you to—"

"You finish that sentence and I'll shoot you and then myself," Gage snapped. Bossanova burst into peals of laughter, stopping where she stood and clutching her sides. He glared valiantly at her for a few seconds, and then felt his lips crack into an unwilling smile.

"Next time we're at Jack's just pick a piece of ass for yourself. Then you can spare me all the fucking questions. I'm sure Jack will give you a discount."

"No thanks," she said, starting up again in a slow stroll. "Not really my thing."

"What, Jack?" Gage said, matching her pace without thinking.

"No."

"...fucking?"

"Uh-huh."

He stared at her. For a moment he considered asking her about Nicky again directly, but decided against it. The topic was dangerous water and she wasn't in the best of moods. Tact was required here, which he obviously had in bucketloads. "I don't...but... everyone fucks. Even ghouls. I knew some raiders with...tastes."

"Not me." When Gage continued to gawk, she said, in a horrible rendition of his accent, "Why do you care?" Bossanova grinned. "Relationships and everything in-between aren't my bag. You should be grateful."

"Grateful? No offence, boss, but you're not my type."

"Oh my God." She rolled her eyes. "The feeling is extremely mutual, idiot."

"Then why would I be—?"

"I think with my brain and not my…" She made a vague gesture in the direction of Gage's crotch.

Gage flushed. "I don't think with my dick."

"I know. But some do. So be glad we have the same priorities."

He shook his head. "This is the weirdest conversation I've ever had."

Bossanova gave him a mocking look of sympathy. "I know. And think how sick of it I must be after two-hundred and ninety years of the same stupid questions."

"You started it!"

She laughed. "True, true. Call it quits then?"

"Yeah, I think that's for the fuckin' best."

They walked on, the silence returning and enveloping them like a blanket. Gone was the tension, but despite this, Gage could feel the conversation they'd almost had as they'd escaped Safari Adventure scratching the inside of his skull. It demanded attention, and strangely enough, this time he didn't feel as afraid to talk about it.

"Boss," he tried again, his mouth drying.

She looked at him, smiling faintly. "Gage?"

"Yesterday, when we was walkin' to Jack's, you...you asked me why I couldn't understand…" Gage licked his lips, his chest tight with nerves. "You wanted me to 'explain myself,' whatever that means." He slowed to a stop, rubbing the back of his head, before letting out a long sigh and meeting her eye. "What do you want to know?"

"Why do you hate the idea of trusting people?" she said at once.

Well, that was an easy enough question to answer. "Because every fucker is out for himself," Gage said bluntly, folding his arms. "I learned that when I was sixteen." He paused, gripping his own arms, the bitterness of the long gone encounter rising up through his throat like bile. "I worked hard to be an asset, and my payment was for some mediocre, two-bit punk to stab me in the back."

"Tell me about it," Bossanova said gently.

He considered saying no—all these years later and Connor's betrayal still smarted. But then suddenly it vomited from his lips, decades of pent-up resentment spewing out into the open air. And once he started, he found he couldn't stop.

"I became a raider young," Gage said to the ground, scowling at a small rock as he went. "Didn't matter 'bout my age, though I also lacked the sense to know when to keep my mouth shut. Had more brains than the gang put together, and they all fuckin' knew it—could tell by the look on their faces every time I offered suggestions to help make us all stronger. None of them liked it, but my ideas worked. So much so, I was eventually approached by Connor."

"Connor?"

"The leader. Called himself some stupid-ass title back then—'The Harvester' or whatever." Despite himself, Gage let out a snort of laughter. He glanced up without thinking, and saw Bossanova smirking too. All at once, he felt his body relax, though he quickly avoided her eye again. He went on. "I thought Connor might be pissed, think I was undermining his authority. But he took my advice instead."

Gage still remembered the evening Connor came to him. The overwhelming sense of pride, inflating his ego to dangerous proportions. Blinding him to the risks, just out of sight. Gage smiled bitterly. "So here I am, this teenage punk who's got the ear of what seems like the most powerful guy around. I'm on top of the damn world. Connor's always coming to me, asking what I think of his plans, telling me how much he trusts me." He hesitated. "Can't lie—it all went to my head."

Bossanova's expression was too knowing for his liking. She nodded. "Would go to any kid's head, I imagine."

"Yeah, well…" Gage coughed, stalling for time. "After about a year, we come up with this plan to make peace with a rival gang—work the whole thing out in secret. Meet on neutral ground, a backup plan in case shit went south, and me negotiating with them."

He paused, remembering his exhilaration at being included, at being needed. Connor trusted him to play the most vital role.

"Did it all go to hell?" Bossanova asked, apparently reading his mind.

"Pretty much." Gage sighed. "Just as talks were gettin' somewhere, I hear the gunfire and the explosions. And at first I'm thinkin', 'Oh shit, something went wrong. Connor's gonna have to bail us out.'"

"But…?"

"But...I eventually picked up on the real plan. The fucker set me up, and I fell for it. Probably thought he'd got everythin' he could from me. Probably saw me as a threat." Gage clenched his jaw shut. "Used me as a diversion, then pissed off the other gang. He gets their stuff and I die in the crossfire. Perfect day for him. Perfect reward for myfuckin' stupidity."

Bossanova studied him for a while. Her face was set in a peculiar expression—soft, but searching, as if trying to see right into him.

"Don't know how the fuck I survived, but I did," said Gage, feeling like he might as well finish the story properly. "Thought about finding Connor and putting a bullet in his head, but that was just the anger talking. Knew where it would end up. So I learned from it and moved on. Everybody looks after themselves." He glared at her, and she stared back, her face unreadable. He didn't give a damn. "I'm no different. And neither are you."

"No," Bossanova said softly. "I suppose not."

"So stop with the bullshit. Stop pretending. We're both using each other to get to the top of the shit heap, and that's as far as it goes. But at least I'm fucking honest about it."

"Just because I'm using you to get to the top," Bossanova replied, the same strange expression on her face, "doesn't mean I won't help you up when I get there."

Gage stared at her, his anger over Connor ebbing away. It felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders—a weight that he'd become so used to, he'd forgotten it was even there. Only with its removal had Gage finally recognised its presence and the damage it had done. And with the sudden lightness of his soul, he saw something else in its place. Something he couldn't deny, as much as it worried him.

Gage sighed, rubbing his eye. "Look...I get what you're trying to do. I really do." He let his hand drop. "I don't trust easily. At all, in fact. Connor fucked me over too hard for that." Gage paused, but Bossanova didn't speak, letting him say his piece. "I've been 'round raiders for years, seen some shit—done most of it myself. I know what people are capable of an' it ain't pretty. But…"

He finally looked her full in the face. Bossanova wore a blank expression, her gaze sharp and focused on him. "Shit, can't believe I'm sayin' this, but...I'm beginning to suspect you ain't like that, boss. If you are, then I knew all along and it's no big deal. An' if you're not...well, we'll see."

He shrugged awkwardly, his heart hammering at exposing such vulnerability. But Bossanova beamed at him. "That's all I needed to hear. Knew I'd get it out of you eventually."

"Yeah yeah," Gage grumbled, biting back a grin, feeling weak at the knees all of a sudden. "Enough talking. Let's go kill some shit."

"We need guns for that. I say when we get back, we stock up and move onto the next section of the park—come back for the gatorclaws when we're good and ready. Unless you want to rest up first?"

"No," he replied, hardly daring to believe his ears. She was making plans, pushing for more land without him fighting with her over it. Without her acting like Colter. "Any ideas where you wanna hit next?"

"I say we go for a stroll, see where the mood takes us."

Gage chuckled. "I can get behind that, boss. I can get behind it."

A/N: Hi everyone. Sorry this is a little late. Going through a rough patch in my personal life right now, and I decided to drink alcohol instead of doing anything productive yesterday. Then I remembered I hadn't posted the chapter, but was too drunk to do anything about it at that point.

If you're enjoying my story, please consider leaving a comment! It really does mean the world to me.

Jack is one of my favourite characters I've ever made. She was created on a whim, when I received an ask telling me to make up a Fallout character on the spot. The sign outside the brothel was what I came up with, and down the line when I started writing MOB, I realised I HAD to include Jack.