Even with the rundown, dilapidated church serving as mild shelter from the blistering wind, it was still cold.

Drummer Boy could still see his breath as white clouds every time he breathed out- although it had a tendency to mix with the smoke that was was also leaving his lips at the same time. A swirling mess of silver smoke and white condensation that hung in the air for a few seconds too long. Reminded him of the dark clouds that still rolled overhead during most of the day; reminded him of the dark clouds that morning that had deposited a fresh coat of snow in their wake- which only added to their growing weather problems.

Whenever the snow melted throughout the afternoon, if it did melt anyways, it would freeze again overnight, and then the new coating of snow would hide the fresh ice. They had had one too many accidents that morning already- mostly bruised tailbones, and wrists. Carrington had been working overtime on getting agents patched up and back out on the road. It wasn't what he was normally used to doing, but bruises healed better than bullets at least.

It was cold, but it twisted hot in the knot of his back- swelling throughout the day and reminding him of his limitations.

He didn't normally come up top like this very often, not unless it was necessary; mostly because of the cold, but mostly because of work too. There was nothing for him to do up here, and time wasted was time lost in this business. But every agent was out in the field, and he had all the reports memorized in his head, so he could risk a few minutes for a smoke and some fresh air.

Although the two normally didn't go hand-in-hand with one another.

If anything, they were counterproductive.

Didn't stop him though.

His hand shook a little as he pulled the cigarette from his lips, the blistering cold getting to his fingertips now. His gloves provided good protection, but with the fingers cut off of them, they were somewhat useless in the winter. They were good enough in the catacombs though, so he couldn't complain.

His hand also shook a little at the sound of approaching footsteps cracking through the thin ice on the walkway outside.

Heavy on the right foot; casual and easy, slight stagger because of the ice.

Charmer.

Drummer Boy waited by the stairway door, leaning back against the brown bricks as he waited- hearing the man drawing ever so closer. Heard the slight raggedness of his breath, the quickness of his feet as he seemingly hurried towards the door; desperately seeking some kind of sanctuary from the weather.

And when Charmer did emerge, shouldering his way through the front door, only to quickly slam it shut behind him, he looked a little more dressed for the weather. He was wearing a heavier jacket- a thicker one made of patchwork, maybe homemade even. It seemed to suit him just fine; the additional hood was a nice touch for him- it would be enough to keep his neck and ears from freezing. He rubbed his bare hands together to make heat, before he breathed into them- collecting hot air on his palms for additional warmth, before he started for the staircase.

Only to stop.

"Okay, now this I know you don't do with everyone," the man spoke, a cold grin hovering on his pale lips.

It was an... amusing look, if not also slightly painful with how deathly cold the man seemed to be. He made the trek from Goodneighbor that morning, so an hour or so in this weather was enough to blister any exposed skin red- as hinted by the strip of red across the man's face; wind blistered.

"Had a few things I wanted to talk to you about," Drummer Boy replied, before he gestured to the door behind him. "Didn't want the others to hear."

Charmer nodded, and closed a few steps between them- edging himself away from the broken, exposed portions of the church walls. "Hit me."

He took one more drag from his cigarette and breathed it out, before he let the joint remain tucked between his lips; his hands worked to peel his own gloves off. "I heard through the grapevine that you and Deacon aren't getting along too well," Drummer Boy started, as he moved to further close the space between them. He gestured for Charmer to give him one of his hands- to which the man relented.

Again, the fingers were cut off, but the gloves were better than nothing as he slipped one of them over Charmer's too cold hand.

"I understand that Deacon is important to the Railroad, and important to the team, but..." Charmer's voice lingered, waiting- perhaps testing the waters of his reaction. "I don't like a liar."

There was truth in his voice, and Drummer Boy nodded as he took Charmer's other hand and slipped it into a glove as well. His hands were almost blood red from exposure, and Drummer Boy figured that someone who was a field medic should've known better. Then again, the wrong kind of gloves made it difficult to keep a steady hold on your weapon; and the right kind of gloves were hard to find now and days.

"Harmless or not," Charmer continued. "I'm not going to sit around and waste my time on some guy trying to convince me that he's actually a Synth. I don't hate Deacon; we operate fine when it's about business, but... I can't do field work with him. I won't."

It was... rare to run into someone who was willing to call Deacon out on his lying- enough so to stop working in the field with him.

At the very least, Deacon didn't seem too sour about it, but the action hadn't settled well with the other agents. Desdemona hadn't been surprised by Charmer's declaration, and told everyone to calm down over it- said that it wasn't an issue that they needed to worry about. After all, Deacon, more often than not, brought it upon himself to be dislikable.

He certainly couldn't blame Charmer.

"Heard some rumors about you and the Brotherhood," Drummer Boy continued, as he pressed Charmer's hands together and held them between his own; his weren't much warmer, but they weren't red either. He still had a little bit of body heat to give away. He pressed his lips together and drew in from his cigarette, before he pushed smoke out through the unoccupied corner of his lips.

"I helped out some of their people at Cambridge," Charmer spoke- not the least bit hesitant to answer him. "They took me to meet with the Brotherhood Elder, who offered me a position in their ranks."

Just like that?

He hadn't heard much of the Brotherhood before, but he knew they looked armed for war when they came in; their airship was visible no matter where you stood in the Commonwealth. Rumors flew in with every agent that came by that the Brotherhood was looking for the Institute as well- and that they were gunning down every Synth that they could find.

So, automatically, a bad mark in the Railroad's book.

So much so that Desdemona already had plans in motion to take them down should the Brotherhood attempt to get in their way.

"I turned them down."

Drummer Boy looked up at Charmer at the words- briefly studying him and taking in the brute honesty in his words.

"I have my hands tied enough as it is, and..."

There it was- the one word he was hoping to avoid in this conversation.

"And?" Drummer Boy pressed.

"Something didn't feel right about the Elder," Charmer shrugged. "He had control over an entire fleet, an entire airship- everyone followed his command to a T; no questions, no arguments. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and there was no soft-heartedness to be found in that guy. He came here on a mission, and while we share a common enemy with the Institute, that's where our common interests end. I have no intentions of siding, let alone even talking, to a guy like that again- and I suggest everyone here avoid him as well."

Just another confirmation that the Brotherhood was not to be welcomed in the Commonwealth. Desdemona had already warned everyone to steer clear of any soldiers, and even some of their agents reported hiding every time a Vertibird flew overhead. Their operations were already being affected by the Brotherhood's presence, and this was without direct interference.

He didn't want to know what the Brotherhood might do if they actually found out about the Railroad, and figured out where they were staying.

Nothing good, that was for sure.

"I went to war with people in power armor before- I'm not looking to go to war with them again," Charmer finished, moving his hands slightly to rub his palms together- to generate more heat between them. "Satisfied?"

The single word was enough to still him- enough to bring a slight twist in his gut.

"This wasn't an interrogation," Drummer Boy assured, moving to curl his fingers around Charmer's- feeling the way they moved all too easily into the touch. "I'm ninety percent of the communication around here; I speak with every agent, with every Heavy who comes through these doors." That much was a given- everyone knew that. "I just wanted to have an honest answer to give to the agents should rumors start flaring up. Believe me, they trust me to have honest knowledge. Most of the time, the only thing separating them from death is the information I give them. I just wanted to be able to reassure them that our best asset right now isn't planning on stabbing us in the back later on down the road."

(And God, he hoped Charmer wouldn't).

"Damage control, I can understand that," Charmer replied with a nod. "If my word is as good as my work, I can assure you that I'd much rather work alongside Deacon again than work anywhere close with the Brotherhood."

Drummer Boy chuckled with the words. "That's all I needed to hear."

A brief pause moved its way between them, allowing for the situation and the conversations to settle. Allowing him to focus a little more on Charmer's hands, which were just slightly smaller than his own- which meant his gloves fit him with near ease.

"Smoking is bad for you, you know."

One hand moved to finish off the cigarette at his lips, before he snubbed it out himself on the wall nearby. "So's radiation," Drummer Boy reminded. "So is long hair in the wrong situation."

"You don't have to tell me that."

The slight grimace on Charmer's face at the words was enough to draw another short laugh- mostly out of sympathy and pity for the man. He brushed his thumbs against Charmer's fingers, working the blood flow back into them with a few tight circles over his knuckles; he felt the slight semblance of heat returning to the man's fingertips. But he watched as Charmer withdrew one of his hands- taking one of his own with it.

Drummer Boy felt like he was more curious than he should've been, so he didn't so much as fight the motion- only to watch as Charmer brought his hand to his lips. He felt the cold brush of them against his palm, chapped and dry, before he felt the warmth of the man's breath ease across his cold skin. For a moment, he was mesmerized; a little taken back by the gesture- and more than aware of the red flush that spread across his face in reaction.

"Can I help you?" Drummer Boy questioned, catching the way Charmer's eyes moved to meet his own- peering down through those damned eyelashes of his. And he could see the appeal in them up close now, catching slivers of hazel peeking through them.

A brief laugh escaped the man- slightly muffled behind his own palm, which was once more warmed by Charmer's breath. There was a hint of nervousness in his laugh though, and it was hard to ignore the way the man seemed to glance around them- as though to make sure that they were alone.

"Yeah, uh... how does, you know... fraternizing work around here?"

The question caught Drummer Boy by surprise, and he found himself having to suppress a quick grin in response. "Excuse me?" The humor of the situation spilled into his voice though, causing the man in front of him to once more grin in return.

Charmer released his hand- although Drummer Boy certainly had no qualms with the man keeping it. "Look, I am... horribly out of time here- out of style, and really out of my game. I mean, the first time I flirted with my wife, she was on IV fluids, and I was on morphine; she had Malaria, and I had half a leg. I got lucky back then, and I guess... I was just hoping I'd get lucky again."

Drummer Boy laughed again and pulled down slightly on the bill of his hat- trying to hide his own nerves and blush. One hand moved forward and rested on Charmers' chest, briefly patting it over the padding of the man's jacket.

"We'll see, Charmer," he replied, before he turned and headed down through the doorway and down the staircase that would take them back to the catacombs. Glad to get away from the wind chill for a little while- even if the catacombs weren't all that much warmer themselves. He heard Charmer quick to follow him though, and heard the man close the stairway door behind them. "In the meantime, Dez wants you for something- said she had something big she needed you to take care of."

"I thought Glory usually handled the big things Dez gave out," Charmer spoke.

And he was almost certain that there was a joke somewhere in there, but decided not to push it. Didn't want to be wrong. "Glory's got her hands tied with something up towards Mercer," Drummer Boy answered, hearing the stairs creak under his weight, before he stepped down into the narrow, winding tunnels. "Glory doesn't feel the cold, so she spends as much time as she can outside- covering for agents who turned in sick. She'll probably be stuck at Mercer for awhile, so until then you gotta cover whatever's left."

"You got any idea what Dez wants me for?" Charmer asked.

"I'll be honest with you, I haven't a clue."

They worked their way through the tunnels, and opened the hidden doorway long enough for the two of them to slip inside before it sealed shut behind them. And he made sure that it was closed this time. A slight accident before had left the doorway propped open for an entire night, and while the only security breach they had was a single feral ghoul, it opened the reality that it could've been worse. And since then, Dez had been harping on everyone to check again and again to make sure that the door had sealed behind them.

Stepping down into the HQ itself, Drummer Boy hit the bottom of the stairs just in time to see Desdemona coming out of PAM's room- a fresh cigarette on her lips, and one hand waving off Carrington, who was right behind her. So it was pretty easy to tell that whatever was going on was not good.

"We can still leave-" Charmer whispered, a few steps behind him.

"Charmer's here," Drummer Boy announced, cutting the man off and hearing a quiet groan in response; he couldn't help but to grin slightly at the effect.

Desdemona looked up at the call and waved the man over. "Charmer, good, you're here," she started, bypassing smoke through her lips without touching her cigarette as she shuffled through the folders on her makeshift desk. If she was needing to keep both of her hands free, then yeah, this wasn't going to be an easy task. "I need you to head out to Ticonderoga. High-Rise is in need of some firepower in the area."

If High-Rise was involved, then he could understand why Desdemona was breaking her own rule about smoking in the catacombs. And why she seemed pretty peeved off at Carrington. High-Rise was good at what he did; he hosted and protected one of their best safe houses- hell, the man had secured and cleaned it out himself. He was bonafide genius in his own right. But he and Desdemona had a tendency of butting heads, probably because they were both pretty stubborn and hard-headed when it came down to business.

And Carrington usually got dragged into their arguments, even though the man really wasn't any different at debating; hell, they were all stubborn and dominant in conversation, but... they usually got things done in a semi-timely manner. Not without a bunch of hurt feelings though.

"Drummer Boy, I need you to go with Charmer."

"What?"

The question left him before he even had a firm grasp on what was being asked. He very rarely left the HQ, although that wasn't necessarily due to his own accord. He'd preferred to be out in the field more, but he was needed here more than he was needed out there- surprisingly enough. It was his job to keep the information circling and to keep all their agents informed, so... for him to actually be called out into the field, that was a new one on him.

"What's High-Rise want with me?" Drummer Boy questioned, as soon as he got his bearings.

"Communication error," Desdemona answered. "Someone played a bad game of Telephone, or something, and now we've got agents in the wrong places all over the Commonwealth. I need you to go out there and sort it all out before we inadvertently draw attention to ourselves."

Shit.

Alright, well he had to admit that that would be easier to do in person rather than over the radio. Too much case-sensitive information anyways; they couldn't risk someone potentially tapping into their lines.

"You got someone to cover for me here?" he asked.

"Carrington has it under control," Desdemona assured. "Most of our agents know what to do anyways, so they shouldn't even notice your absence- but in the crisis that they forget their objectives, we can radio you."

Okay, that kind of sounded like a backhanded remark, but he would take it.

It wasn't like he had much of a choice in the matter anyways as it would seem.

Drummer Boy turned his attention back to Charmer, who seemed to be a mix of surprised, and amused by the situation. "Alright, well it's still early," he noted, "if we leave now, we can make it there before dark." Only an hour or so to Ticonderoga, but these winter days were short on light, and they couldn't risk getting stuck out there when it was dark, and cold.

"Yeah, sure thing," Charmer nodded, before he turned back to Desdemona. "Glory got things covered from here?"

"Glory's always got the things covered," the woman herself announced as she made her way down the stairs behind them; each step seemed heavier than the last thanks to the minigun strapped to the back of her rig. "Just because you've been picking up some slack, Charmer, doesn't mean you gonna replace me."

Charmer laughed and held his hands up in defense, but didn't little to stop the woman as she playfully slugged him on the shoulder. "I wouldn't dream of it- honest."

"If you want, I can head out to Ticonderoga instead," Glory offered. "I haven't seen High-Rise in awhile, and I'm sure the man thinks I've gone off to join the soul circus somewhere."

"No, no that's fine- I got it handled."

It was a little hard to ignore just how quick Charmer was to decline Glory's offer- and even harder to ignore the grin Glory wore in response. Drummer Boy was almost certain that Glory had only made the offer because she knew Charmer would decline. But she just wanted to hear it all for herself.

"Let me get my things, and we'll head out," Drummer Boy spoke- trying to ignore the look that Glory was shooting him now.

Christ, if Desdemona and Carrington weren't so busy and preoccupied with quietly arguing with one another, he was almost certain the two would've caught onto what was going on now. And he sure as hell didn't want to listen to any kind of lecture about... flirting in the workplace, or whatever it was.

It only took him a few minutes to gather the essentials: his gun and some ammo, as well as a few supplies for the road. Again, Ticonderoga wasn't too far- but he should try to account for the cold, and any sort of chaos they might run into along the way. The cold slowed everyone down though, so Raiders and Gunners were few and far between at the moment. But there would be plenty of places to hide along the way, so they could easily play this safe, and smart.

Slipping his bag over his shoulder, he put on a second jacket to conceal it and figured he was about as ready as he could get.

"We're heading out, Dez. We'll radio in when we get there," Drummer Boy called.

"Stay safe out there," the Alpha replied.

"And stay warm too," Glory added, already undoing her rig set up and dropped her minigun onto one of the desks. "And watch out for the shoreline- those Mirelurks are getting desperate, and they will attack if you get too close."

A sound piece of advice.

"Will do," he assured, before he climbed the stairs and headed back out through the catacombs. Charmer had left shortly after Glory had arrived to move ahead and scout out the area. He didn't think there would be much out there, but it really didn't hurt to be careful now and days. Climbing back through the winding, narrow tunnels, Drummer Boy ran himself through his own mental reports- wondering where exactly a bad piece of information might've gotten mixed in. It would be quite a walk to Ticonderoga, so he should have plenty of time to think things through.

Stepping out of the church, he watched as Charmer seemed to be returning back just the same. "Am I ever going to get rid of you?" Drummer Boy remarked, watching as the man cracked a grin.

"At this rate, no," Charmer mused. "Looks like you're gonna be stuck with me for awhile now."

"Perfect."


The way to Ticonderoga was mostly by city alleyways and crushed streets to start off with, which would eventually open up to the pier side and to the long bridge across the half-frozen river. The thin piece of shoreline around it would no doubt be littered with Mirelurks burrowed into the sand for warmth- but from what Glory was saying, a few desperate ones would be prowling the streets as well.

The road was quiet as they worked their way down it- taking in the environment and listening for anything; or at least Drummer Boy was. Charmer had his eyes set on everything around them, scanning and looking; always observing. It was quiet for the time being though. Calm- almost peaceful really. But mostly cold though.

A chilling breeze brought forth the knot twisting tight in his back- even under two jacket layers. He could ignore it for the most part, but unfortunately the former wound was just as persistent as he was.

"You alright?" Charmer asked, seemingly out of the blue.

The man had a sharp pair of eyes though, and no doubt being a former medic made it easy for him to pick up on the stiff way he walked, and the occasional way his shoulders slumped forward. There wasn't much that could be hidden from the man's attention it would seem.

"Bad back," Drummer Boy answered, simply enough. "The cold makes it worse, but it's bearable."

"What happened?"

There was a genuine sense of intrigue, maybe a little bit of concern in the man's tone.

"I got shot," he replied- chewing through the urge to light a cigarette. He didn't really want to, other than to settle the nicotine carving; the smoke would potentially give them away anyways. Mirelurks were pretty sensitive to smoke, and the chilling breeze would make it far too easy for the smoke to travel. They were having an easy enough time as it was- it would be a shame to ruin the peace.

Not to mention, he wasn't a big fan of walking and smoking at the same time. He smoked to relax when he could, and the walking portion would just make his lungs feel tighter than they normally did.

Charmer went back to checking their surroundings, but it was a little easy to see the brief look of surprise on his lips. The guy was used to seeing him just hanging around the HQ- this was the first time he had been out this far in a long while. He could understand why Charmer might've been a little surprised that he had been shot once or twice in his life; even despite the world that they were currently living in.

"What happened?" The same question on repeat, but for a different reason.

Drummer Boy guessed that this was payback for asking about Charmer's leg so... insensitively.

"Courser at Switchboard," he answered, catching the way Charmer paused for a moment, before he did the same. He had just barely managed to catch some movement in the corner of his eye about that same time- something fluttering in the window of the rundown building to his right.

A few seconds of observing later revealed it to just be a dying blood bug.

Most of the insects disappeared during the winter, only to reappear almost first day of spring. They usually holed up in tunnels, or whatever kind of tight, dark crevices they could fit into. They only moved during the warmest part of the day, and only when it was necessary to get blood.

They tended to stay in a swarm to generate enough heat to keep each other alive, but this one must've strayed too far.

"It was a flesh shot, nothing more," Drummer Boy continued, resisting the urge to rub at the firm knot in his back as he moved forward once more- leaving the blood bug on its own. "Left a hell of a scar though."

"I know all about that," Charmer spoke, with a brief chuckle, as he lagged somewhat behind him. There was a second or two of silence, before he elaborated. "What I meant was, when I got shot in the leg, I also took a bullet to the ribs."

He looked back at the remark, watching as the man continued to keep a sharp eye on the environment around them. "They weren't just satisfied with shooting out your leg?" he questioned.

If the question came off as being insensitive, Charmer didn't seem to mind and simply laughed it off.

"The sniper shot my ribs when I was pulling myself to safety," the man replied, one hand rubbing at the right portion of his ribcage as he spoke. "If I hadn't gotten behind that supply cache when I did, they probably would've gotten in a few more shots. I got lucky though, and it didn't hit anything important thankfully- but it did break a rib or two going in, so I got a nice scar out of it. Not as nice as my leg, but I mean, it's not bad."

He chuckled lightly at the man's ability to poke fun at himself- or at least to see light of the situation now. It probably took Charmer some time to reach that point, but... maybe it felt like a step in the right direction for him.

"You should show me that scar one day," Drummer Boy remarked.

"Only if you show me yours."

"... We'll see, Charmer."


Charmer's attitude shifted slightly as the two of them made their way across the long bridge that would connect them to the other mainland.

The bridge shifted slightly in the breeze, which wasn't the least bit comforting- especially considering the murky, half-frozen river below. The river flowed too much for it to completely freeze over, but there were still sizable chunks of ice floating at the surface. Water was normally a bad idea to begin with, but during the cold months, it was an even worse choice.

Drummer Boy figured the man shared his same sort of distain towards bridges. They felt too open, too exposed; there weren't many things to hide behind asides from cracked pillars and crushed cars. And considering how the Railroad operated, it was always smarter for them to be in an environment where they could hide; it was how they worked best. Even if it was just a brief walk to get to the other side, maybe ten minutes max, all it would take was a Super Mutant with a minigun at the other end to royally screw them up. After all, it wasn't like they could just jump off the sides- that in itself was a death wish.

Didn't help that with the surrounding buildings and such, it would be an easy place for someone to set up post and-

Oh.

The slightest thought of a sniper setting up a roost somewhere in this area suddenly bought sense to Charmer's sudden silence. Sniper Rifles were pretty hard to find in the Commonwealth- especially a good one; he doubted many of them could even hit close to the bridge unless it had been modded out the ass by someone who knew what the hell they were doing. Still, just the scenario alone was probably enough to bring back some unpleasant memories for the man.

Drummer Boy briefly wondered if the cold weather had the same effect on Charmer's leg as it did with his back.

If Charmer felt the tightly knotted sensation spread up through his knee at the slightest implication of change. If he woke to the same pain, to the same swelling, and had to make the conscious decision to push through it.

He wondered if Charmer could still hear the distant crack of the rifle- if he had hear it at all anyways. Pre-war weaponry had to have had better silencers than the handmade ones sitting around today.

Wondered if Charmer could still hear and feel the bullet breaking through his leg, shattering everything in its wake.

Wondered if every time he closed his eyes and let himself linger on it, if he still remembered the sounds of if all.

"You alright?" Drummer Boy asked, breaking the silence first as his own thoughts caught up with him; wondering where his thoughts on Charmer had stopped, and where his own had merged in. "Been quiet."

"Ticonderoga's further away than I remember," Charmer admitted, white clouds rolling out between his lips. Some dark clouds had moved in overhead, and the temperature was dropping a little faster than either of them would've liked. "The cold's getting to me."

It was a subtle hint of confirmation that the man wasn't talking about anything else but his leg. Then again, Charmer must've been out all morning, having started from Goodneighbor to get to the HQ, only to be sent out to Ticonderoga. He had barely gotten a chance to get warm in the catacombs, before he was having to step back out into the cold.

"Need a break?" Drummer Boy offered.

"No, I'd uh... I'd much rather get there instead," Charmer assured, before he managed to muster up a small grin towards him. "Worried about me?"

"Yeah," he replied- his honesty seemingly catching the man by surprise. "I can't exactly show up to Ticonderoga without you- people might get suspicious."

And for the first time since they stepped on that bridge, Charmer laughed.


"Hey, hey, Charmer, Drummer Boy, it's been too long!"

Drummer Boy offered a smile as High-Rise greeted them out front; the man always was one for common courtesy. And despite the wind having picked up, and fresh clouds on the horizon, the man still only donned his jeans and leather jacket- seemingly unaffected by the cold. "High-Rise, it's good to see you again," he started, as he reached out and took the man's extended hand, before he felt the other one clap him on the shoulder. "Good to see you still got the place looking good."

"Hey, you know me," the man laughed, briefly shaking him by the shoulder now. "You're looking good though- better than the last time I saw you."

High-Rise had helped out as best he could after Switchboard, but it was understandable that he had his own safe house to take care of and run; and given the casualties of Switchboard, they still needed as many people as they could maintaining operations in the absences. Wasn't easy, and it was stressful enough, but the man pulled through and kept their heads above the water.

He had dropped by a few times to gather whatever reports he could to take over operations, and since Drummer Boy was usually the head of information, he had to correlate with the man. Even if he was fighting through late night insomnia and early morning sickness from the still fresh injury in his back. He was pretty certain he had thrown up on High-Rise once or twice, but those days were sort of a haze to him now, so it was hard to be certain.

Plus High-Rise never brought it up, which he was thankful for.

"Yeah well... you know how things go," Drummer Boy nodded, quick to end the conversation topic. "Alright, so what problems are going on around here exactly?"

"You wouldn't believe the mess, but-" High-Rise spoke, only to interrupt himself, "hospitality first, please. I got you two a room you can break in for the time being to get warm and set up. It's too late to handle the gun portion of the business here, but I got a couple of agents heading back tonight, so you can help with the information issues we got going on. The situation isn't completely out of control, but it is getting out of hand."

Oh, good.

He could still get in a few hours of shut eye, and get his thoughts together.

Not to mention, a few hours to get off of his feet would be great too.

"Sounds good," Drummer Boy nodded once more. "Hope you don't mind then, but I'm gonna head up now and get as much information out of my head as I can before everyone comes through. I want to make sure I have answers prepared before everyone comes in with questions."

"Right on, right on, just head on up and you'll know where to look- got you some clean supplies too, so don't worry," High-Rise spoke, as he dropped the hand from his shoulder. "By the way, we do have working showers, with heat, but just try to take them one at a time; it's easy to blow the pressure gauge otherwise. Got a lady coming by later this week with the part that can fix the tank, but I'm just trying to keep it alive until then. I got agents taking showers together, so don't be surprised if it gets a little crowded in there."

Really could've gone without that last piece of information, but hey, they had all been there before.

"Thanks," Drummer Boy noted, before he headed inside of the building and went straight for the open elevator; he waited long for Charmer to get inside, before he hit the appropriate floor button. "You ever stay at Ticonderoga before?"

"Before the war, sure- back when it wasn't Ticonderoga," Charmer answered, leaning one shoulder against the cramped elevator wall. "And to be honest, this is actually an upgrade from what it used to be."

He chuckled lightly at the words, and felt the elevator jolt slightly as it rambled upwards. To this day, he was still impressed that High-Rise had managed to jerry-rig the elevator to work from scrap; and, to this day, it had yet to crash, or stop working. It made a lot of noise, and abrupt stops from time to time, but it worked and that was really all that mattered.

"So about this sharing a shower thing-"

"Charmer," he interrupted, catching yet another grin on the man's face, before the elevator came to a stop and the doors shimmed open. "... We'll see."

"You have got to stop saying that."

He bit back a laugh and headed through the small lobby and up the staircase- taking note that High-Rise still kept the place in top shape. The man was a stickler for details, and he liked his agents to have a nice place to relax after a long run. So it wasn't uncommon to see two or three Heavies passed out together on the common room couches- too exhausted to make it up to their rooms.

Heading up to the second floor, Drummer Boy moved through the tight corridors and kept his eyes moving from door to door until he spotted the one High-Rise had marked for them. A simple clipboard hanging from the door to signal that it was available, and a scribbled note to say who it was assigned to.

Plucking the clipboard free, he pushed the door open and stepped into the small room. It didn't offer much space, in fact it might've been a supply closet at one point, but it was big enough to fit two beds in one corner, and a small makeshift desk between them. At the very least, he had a place to work at this time.

"Well, here's home sweet home for the next few days," Drummer Boy spoke, as he tossed the clipboard onto the desk. "Get used to living in even closer quarters."

"Former military," Charmer reminded, as he squeezed into the room after him. "I've been in smaller places with more people- Hell, I've had people fall asleep on top of me before."

He watched as Charmer set his bag down on one of the beds, the one pressed against the furthest wall, before the man himself tumbled onto the thin mattress; the small metal frame underneath it creaked at the sudden weight. "Is that what the military life was like before the bombs?" Drummer Boy questioned, as he tugged one of the drawers of the desk opened to find a small ream of paper inside. Thank you, High-Rise. Hell, the man even included a fresh pencil- not that he didn't always carry one with him anyways. "Certainly explains a lot about you then."

He heard Charmer give a quiet laugh at the remark, before Drummer Boy felt his own glove hitting the back of his neck- having been flung from Charmer's hand. He had almost forgotten that he had loaned the man his gloves that morning; the deep pockets of his jacket had kept his hands from needing them back.

"Your leg doing better?"

"It's warming up," Charmer spoke, one hand rubbing at his thigh, before he pulled his right leg up towards his chest; his hands briefly massaging at his knee. The occasional groan that left the man as he worked into the tense muscles hinted that he was a little more worse for wear than he had been letting on. "Your back still hurt?"

"My back always hurts," Drummer Boy replied, as he dropped the paper on the desk top, and seated himself into the small, accompanying chair. As soon as he picked up the pencil, he immediately began writing- a little surprised himself at how quickly he was jotting things down. The walk over here had given him plenty of time to organize his thoughts, and figure out how to lay out the information in his head. He still couldn't figure out what piece of information had gone wrong down the pipeline though. "Feel free to take a shower- the warm water will probably relax you."

Charmer chuckled lightly, mostly to himself as he knitted his hands underneath his thigh- keeping his prosthetic leg suspended still. "It sounds nice, and it would probably be best to get it out of the way before anyone else shows up. But uh... you guys got a stool, or chair in there that I can use? I'm not all that great at the balancing on one leg thing."

Right.

Prosthetics and water weren't exactly a great mix.

"I'm sure there's one sitting around," he started. "Hell, there might even be one in there already if Colada's been staying here."

"Colada?" Charmer questioned.

"If he's still around, you'll know him when you see him," Drummer Boy assured, before he looked back to the man once more. "I mean, I guess I could help you if you really needed it."

The faint tease in his voice was enough for Charmer to grin at.

"I'll think about it."