Drummer Boy moved his work into the sitting lounge later that evening.

He had spent a few hours or so in the room he shared with Charmer, writing down every piece of information he had memorized, and ensuring again and again that it was correct. No one else but him really knew what needed to circulate throughout all their branches, so he needed to make sure he had his head together. He didn't want the agents to waste their time out there in the wrong spots again.

Timing was delicate around here after all.

After awhile though, he figured he needed a change of scenery to keep his thoughts fresh and working. Not to mention he was working on splitting up the work again, so moving down into the hub of where the agents normally hung out would help him keep their names together.

High-Rise had eight routine agents working here, although an occasional extra showed up from time to time during the work cycles.

He needed to account for everyone.

Not to mention, he figured he had been loud enough for awhile now, and could risk giving Charmer an actual chance to sleep. The man had passed out as soon as they had gotten here, which again, he couldn't blame the man for doing so. Charmer had had a long walk to get here, and would no doubt need to preserve the energy for whatever errands High-Rise needed him for.

So far, so good on everything though.

He knew his work, he knew his information; he knew everything in front of him was right- regardless of what might be argued.

"Working hard, I see," a voice interrupted, causing him to briefly lose his train of thought.

Drummer Boy glanced up at the voice and chuckled lightly as he watched High-Rise climb the nearby staircase- no doubt coming in from out of the cold. And the stairs would be quicker to climb than waiting for the elevator; not to mention, High-Rise liked to keep light on his feet. "Don't you have hand signals to be making in the spot lights or something?" he asked, catching the quiet laugh the man gave in response. "Waiting for your crew to return?"

"Yeah, they have a hard time making it back sometimes," High-Rise remarked; he rubbed his hands together to generate warmth as he made his way into the small lounge, before he headed towards the roasting coffee pot. "Not usually because of outside issues though. They have a tendency of screwing around with one another if they run into each other on the way home. Took Colada and Rent two hours to get back last time because they insisted on an impromptu snowball fight and wouldn't come back until a winner had been officially declared."

Drummer chuckled lightly at the statement- remembering how Glory and Tommy used to act the same way.

"We would've been back ages ago, Dez, but someone here wanted to take a new shortcut- damn near around the ENTIRE city!"

"Lighten up, Whispers- scavenged you that sweet knife, didn't I?"

"In case you were wondering, Rent won."

Surprise there.

"Well at least you know that they have power in numbers out there then," he spoke as reassurance, watching as the man poured out two cups of semi-fresh coffee. "I'd hate to see the aftermath of whatever might try to take on Colada and Meat at the same time."

High-Rise gave another laugh and picked up the two cups before the man walked back to him- handing one of the cups off to him, before he sat down on the couch across from him. "You know Meat changed her codename, right?"

Drummer Boy glanced up over the cup of coffee, just barely taking the first sip of it. "Changed her codename?" he repeated. "We can do that?"

"See? That's what I said," High-Rise remarked, slumped back against the ratted cushions as he took a sip or two from the steaming mug. "She's 'Butcher' now though, so be sure to call her that when she walks in."

"I'll try to remember," he nodded, before he looked up at the sound of more footsteps coming light up the stairwell. Setting the cup down, he watched as one of High-Rise's agents, White Tide, stumbled into the lounge- eyes barely opened, and dragging his feet.

The man seemed like he had definitely seen better days, or at least had slept better days, as he fumbled to slip the strap of his rifle off. He was one of the fastest agents the Railroad had, what with his long legs and slender build. He could get from Ticonderoga to the Old North Church in under an hour- or at least that was his best time from a few months before; they hadn't had the chance to test it again. For now, he was wrapped up in a thick jacket with the hood pulled low over his face, barely showing the thin five o'clock shadow coming in; he might've been the only guy who shaved around here too.

"White Tide, good to see you again," Drummer Boy offered.

The man barely gave a nod, before he managed to signal out two words. "Hello. Tired."

And then proceeded to collapse on the couch on the other side of the lounge.

"It's been a long week for him," High-Rise explained, hooking one arm over the back of the couch. "Old Man Stockton's been up his ass all month about dealing with caravans and Synths."

Once someone dropped Old Man Stockton's name the situation basically explained itself.

While the man was damn good at his job of getting Synths in and out, and good at keeping Bunker Hill under control and safe for their operations... The man could get pretty paranoid about the set up- and quite easily too. He couldn't fault the old guy for being so, after all Bunker Hill was a central hub of trading around here- which was why it was such a great place to work Synths in and out from. But the larger and more active a place was, the bigger of a target it made for the Institute.

Reported Institute spies in the area were always rumored, but there were no 'official' documents on them yet- nothing more than just from word of mouth around here.

"So how's Charmer doing in the grand scheme of things around here?"

Drummer Boy glanced over to the man at the question, catching High-Rise's eyes over the brim of the coffee cup at his lips. "He's doing things," he shrugged in answer. "I mean, for having no training, and basically being yanked into doing things around here, he's uh... He's doing pretty well. Just another number and name to send out into the field."

"Oh come on, with all the work he's been doing over at the HQ, I figured you guys would be singing praise about him," High-Rise spoke. "Hell, Glory was here last month and even spared a compliment or two about his work. Which is something she hasn't done since Tommy left us."

"Well yeah, Charmer's good at what he does," he started in response, "but White Tide is right there. I don't want to make him feel bad."

White Tide, who had been motionless from the moment he hit the couch, summoned enough strength to form another sign with his hand.

This one consisting of just one finger though.

"See?"

High-Rise chuckled and shook his head. "You'd be surprised at the amount of people who assume he's deaf rather than mute. I nearly started a fight on his behalf when we were up at Bunker Hill last week." He paused to take another sip from his cup. "For real though, Charmer came at a good time for us- I'm glad to have him here."

"Well you're not switching him out for one of your agents," Drummer Boy remarked.

"Oh come on- Butcher has been missing you."

He snorted slightly and tried to go back to his notes as he loosely flipped through the papers once more. "... I can't believe she changed her codename. How many years has she been Meat? Three, right? Or has it been four?"

"Hey man, she had it approved by Dez, so there's legitimacy in it," High-Rise spoke. "She's got a hell of a story to go with it too. Apparently she-"

High-Rise was unfortunately cut off by the sound of the elevator suddenly rattling its way up to their floor- hinting that new guests had arrived to check in to Ticonderoga. Just the usual squeaking and grinding of the cords as they were rolled through handcrafted pulleys and jerry-rigged gears.

"Well hell, this might be her now, so I'll let her share the story."

It took a few, loud seconds before the elevator arrived and settled at their floor.

Before the rickety doors jerked open to reveal not one, but four Railroad agents crammed inside of the tight compartment. It was almost as if they were literally packed in there like a bad can of sardines; a mess of limbs and armor shoved into four corners.

The sight was... amusing on its own, if not also a little concerning.

"See? This is the shit I'm talking about," High-Rise sighed- clearing stating that this hadn't been the first time this had occurred.

"There is a weight limit on that thing, you know," Drummer Boy called to the group, watching as they struggled to pull themselves out of the tight space; their hands literally outstretched and grasping for some kind of leverage to pull themselves on. "You cause it to break down, and you might get stuck in there. And High-Rise here might not want to rescue you for breaking the elevator in the first place."

"I will leave you in there overnight," the man assured.

"It wouldn't be the worst place that I've been stuck in overnight," one of the female agents spoke as she successfully freed herself first. She was tall, lean, and moved with unprecedented grace as she gave herself a brief shake down before she started across the small lounge. The signature Railroad armor was missing from her attire, leaving her in just a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt that she left partly unbutton- revealing the dark shirt she wore underneath. A classic disguise for her out in the Commonwealth when she wasn't working in the line of fire.

A bundled sweater in the crook of one arm said that at least she had some protection against the cold out there; the heat of the compact elevator probably convinced her to sweat out of it.

At first glance, there were two notable features to take in about the woman.

The first being her dark skin kissed with patches of white.

And the second being the heavy-looking, freshly polished Assaultron arm that took place of her right forearm.

The woman gave into a long-bodied stretch, before she started across the lounge. "Drummer, it's good to see you- or rather, hear you at least. Been awhile since you've been around, you're like a stranger."

"It's good to see you too, Meat," Drummer Boy replied, before he corrected himself, "or, as High-Rise has told me, Butcher now?" He watched as she grinned and nodded- clearly proud of the name change. "Any reason for it?"

"I killed three Yao Guai last month, two more this month- and I managed to down a Deathclaw last week," she proclaimed, before she raised up her Assaultron arm- spinning the wrist joint as she did so. "I think that's more than enough to justify earning a more respective codename, don't you think?"

Yeah, she had a point there.

Five Yao Guai, and one Deathclaw was certainly nothing to shake your head.

(Really, the Deathclaw alone was a big enough thing).

She must've been sent through one of their more dangerous routes in order to encounter so much wildlife, or maybe the packed snow had forced a detour. With the cold as of lately, the creatures must've gotten desperate at some point and risked leaving their homes to look for an easy target. It was hard to judge when Yao Guai hibernated for the winter, or if they still did to begin with. Sometimes if they didn't have enough fat reserves to live off of, they would sneak out to ambush unsuspecting Radstags still tending to their yearlings.

And judging by the new scars on the woman's jaw, and the patched up rips in her uniform, she was certainly not the easy target they had been expecting.

There was no reason to doubt her stories either, not that he would've.

Meat, or rather Butcher now, was a woman of her word- and her gun.

"Sounds like you finally got retribution for your arm then," he remarked, gesturing to her displayed prosthetic, which she spun once more.

"Yep, for once I wasn't the one kicking and screaming this time," Butcher nodded, as she leaned against the couch High-Rise was seated on, crossing her arms across the back of it. "And I wasn't the one who nearly ran a full mile with my arm gushing out blood like this-"

"Please don't demonstrate the scene again," High-Rise interrupted.

Butcher clicked her tongue and loosely grabbed the man by the shoulders before she gave him a few shakes. "No fun."

"Or at least, that's the story she continues to tell everyone," a large man with a white beard spoke as he filed out of the elevator after everyone else had freed themselves from the tin can deathtrap. He wore the heavy Railroad armor and made it look like an apron against his broad frame.

If Drummer Boy recalled correctly, Tinker Tom actually had to create a suit specifically for the man to wear- taking measurements and everything, and the armor still looked too small. People in the Commonwealth didn't normally get exceedingly big, or tall, or really all that broad, but the man was a big exception to that. Even now it was a little hard to comprehend just how big he was inside the building- it was hard to comprehend how he alone could fit in the elevator, let alone with three other people.

As the man walked through the lounge, his footsteps near thundered underneath him- rattling the loose tiles under his boots. He walked heavy on his right leg though, with a stiff gait as his body leaned more towards the left, as though to counterbalance the unevenness. The mix of a badly-timed explosion, a unit of Gen-1 Synths, and a near three-story drop had shattered his right leg all the way up to his hip. By the time someone had managed to find him, and drag him back to the closest safe house, his leg was so badly mangled it was barely holding on with strings and tendons.

Carrington ended up cutting the leg off at the hip- but constantly expressed that the man was lucky to lose only that much.

By the next year, he was fitted with a leg from a salvaged Gen-2 Synth, and was back in the field.

"But no one can say for sure."

"Oh come on, Colada, you saw the aftermath," Meat, now Butcher, reminded. "I showed you the bone sticking out and everything- even threw up on ya once or twice."

"Is that so? Ah, I can't seem to recall any of that-"

Drummer Boy chuckled lightly as Butcher flipped the larger man the bird before she hopped over the couch and plopped down next to High-Rise. He watched as Colada moved to the coffee pot for a cup, before he turned his attention to the other two women who had removed themselves from the elevator next.

There was Rent, a red-headed, freckled woman who was already in the middle of shedding off her armor- dropping it onto the floor without a care; revealing the simple white shirt and jeans she wore underneath it. Her hair was pinned back into a messy bun, and her face was delicately painted with some scavenged pre-war make up- drawing focus to the woman's green eyes and sharp cheekbones.

And partly covering the large burn scar that took up a good portion of her right cheek, jaw, and neck; the skin still flayed and stretched, although paler and healthier looking than it had been the year before.

And then there was Mockingbird, who had her attention drawn to where White Tide had passed out on the couch. She had propped herself against the back of it, and had one hand trailing loosely up and down his back, causing the sleeping man to twitch from time to time- at least ensuring that he was still breathing. She was still fully dressed in her uniform- she very rarely took it off without being behind a closed door. Her dark skin was barely visible underneath the armor, and the carefully arranged folds of her hijab were starting to come undone after a long day's work.

"Alright, I know you guys are all tired, and probably dead on your feet, but let's get this whole mess sorted and taken care of," High-Rise spoke, as he gestured for everyone to take a seat somewhere. "Since some of you apparently can't listen to instructions-"

"Blame Colada."

"Let's not start any fights- at least not inside," Drummer Boy interrupted. "I'm just going to give everyone new information, new routes, and you'll just have to follow that instead. It should cover all of the same bases that we had before- and it should prevent overlap, so we shouldn't have to worry about two of you guys showing up to the same place again."

Even now, no one seemed to know how the miscommunication had occurred, or at least, no one was stepping up to it.

He hoped it was just an innocent mistake occurring, and that someone out there hadn't tapped into their communications and spread bad info. It was a bit of a far-fetched idea, but with the Institute always on everyone's thoughts, not to mention the highly-trained Brotherhood permanently sitting on the horizon... It was difficult to not feel a little bit paranoid over the whole thing.

For now, at least, it seemed promising that the mess was being cleared up and swept away.

"Have I ever told you that I could listen to you talk all the time?" Butcher interrupted.

"Only every time I'm here."


He finished giving out the new information, and was in the process of double checking the new roles over with everyone when he heard the familiar sound of footsteps coming down the corridor above; heard the heavy steps making their way down the staircase behind him. He caught the slight way everyone looked up at the sound, before they moved back to their notes- going over the information once more.

"Sleep well?" Drummer Boy asked over his shoulder.

"Well enough," Charmer replied, one hand ruffling his loose black hair as he moved to stand next to him- stopping long enough to put his hair back up.

It was a little addicting to watch as the man raked his fingers through his dark hair, gathering and collecting it in a tight grip, before he pulled it back and carefully tied it together. Doing all of it without needing a mirror, and still looking half-asleep, which meant Charmer had gotten into the routine of fixing his hair without needing to see it. Or pay attention to it.

Still a little messy though- not perfect, but suitable.

"I take it this is High-Rise's crew then?"

"Yeah," Drummer Boy nodded, before he gestured to each person with the end of his pencil. "You got Butcher, formally known as Meat, Rent, Mockingbird, the unconscious one is White Tide, and the big guy is Colada. He's the one I was telling you about earlier."

"Why am I always the topic of discussion in other people's pillow talks?" Colada remarked, taking up a good portion of the couch space across from them- even if the man had confined himself to only the corner cushion of it. High-Rise had moved to sit on the same couch as Drummer, choosing not to get crushed by the agents who seemed insistent on squeezing onto one couch together; which was a barely obtainable goal.

The remark was enough to catch him off-guard while Charmer let out a sort of laughing snort next to him.

"It wasn't-" Drummer Boy started.

"That happened ONCE," Rent objected, one hand lightly rubbing at her scarred cheek, before she jabbed the larger man with the pencil in hand. "And it wasn't really even pillow talk, ya cocky bastard. You might be about the size of a planet, but the world sure as hell don't revolve around ya."

Colada just cracked a grin in response to her annoyance.

"We got three more agents on their way," High-Rise spoke up, "you'll probably run into them later though- it's a bit of a walk for them. In case you don't get a formal introduction with them, they're Motherboard, Peacock, and Koi. You can't miss them."

"Sounds promising," Charmer replied, as he sat down on the arm of the couch, somewhat straddling it, before he leaned back against the cushion- moving one arm behind Drummer Boy for additional support. "And suddenly mine doesn't seem so odd now, does it?"

Yeah, true, he might've at one point mentioned the oddity in the man's codename. He had a lot of experience with dealing with codenames, had heard of plenty out-there names, so Charmer didn't really seem like it should sit at the top of his list. And yet it sort of did. Drummer Boy blamed it on the overall fact of who Charmer was, where he came from, and how he got here.

It was the oddity of the man himself that was really worth noting.

"Right, right," Drummer Boy mused, brushing Charmer's remark aside with a slight wave of his hand, before he turned his attention back to the other agents. "In case you haven't heard, and/or met him yet, this is the new recruit, Charmer- although he's not exactly new around here anymore. And I'm sure High-Rise has talked plenty about him by now."

"You did the run with H2-22, right?" Rent questioned.

"Yeah, my first sort of official run with the Railroad, and the first Synth escort I did," Charmer nodded, one hand absent-mindely rubbing at his right knee. Drummer briefly wondered if the cold was still irritating his leg. "I heard he made it out of the Commonwealth safe, which is good news."

"Savor that feeling, my friend," Butcher advised, before she tossed her notes down onto the coffee table between them. "Are we good to go now? Because there's a hot shower calling my name, and I need to heed to its demands."

"As long as you know what you're doing now," Drummer Boy replied.

"I got the jest of it."

Confident answer.

"If you're taking a shower, hold a spot for me," Rent spoke, already at her feet and in the process of collecting her armor from the floor.

"I got ya, babe."

Alright, well until the other three agents got here, there wasn't much left for him to do.

The slight ache behind his eyes told him that he had definitely been up for too long though- and that he could afford a few hours to sleep and recharge himself. He wouldn't be much good around here if he was slow and uncoordinated after all.

"Charmer, I have a proposition for you," Colada started, waiting for both Rent and Mockingbird to get up, before he hoisted himself off of the couch next. "There's a supermarket not too far from here that I need to clear out- High-Rise here thinks it'll become an issue if I don't take care of it soon."

"Which it will," High-Rise shadowed.

"Everyone here talks about what great work you're doing, and I need to see you in proper action," the man finished. "Shouldn't take more than a few hours with the two of us both in there."

Drummer Boy glanced over to where Charmer was rubbing at his face once more, probably a little numb if the man had slept on it. And seeing how twisted Charmer's sleeping pose had been before he left, he wouldn't be surprised.

"Yeah, sure, let's go wild," Charmer replied. "I'll just go get some of my things together and meet you back here."

Colada cracked a wide grin in response. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Just remember to be safe out there," High-Rise started, as he got to his feet, and brushed himself off. "Remember when you hit that ice patch last month? Nearly displaced your whole hip rig and everything. You're a big guy, Colada, the only thing that could take you out is yourself- so keep an eye out for ice patches and potholes. And remember, feral ghouls cluster around places that are still warm, so that supermarket is gonna be like opening a bad can of worms."

"I hear ya, boss," Colada replied, as he clapped a heavy hand onto High-Rise's shoulder- nearly sinking the man back into the couch with the motion. "I have to grab a few things from my room as well- let's meet back here in, say, ten minutes or so."

"Sounds good."

Drummer Boy folded up the rest of his notes and got to his feet as he shoved them into his jacket pocket for safe-keeping. "Alright, well I'm gonna head back up and work on some things- let me know when the other three get here if I don't hear them first."

"Will do," High-Rise nodded, before he clapped a hand on his shoulder. "And thanks again for coming all the way out here for this."

"No problem."

He made his way back up the stairs and down the narrow corridor, barely avoiding Rent and Butcher as the two raced one another down to the showers- laughing as they did so. As far as he knew, from what High-Rise had mentioned before, Butcher, Mockingbird, and White Tide were staying the night, while Colada and Rent were heading back out- either for the thrill, or to get a jumpstart on their new jobs. Which meant that Rent was probably just wanting to warm up for a bit before heading back out into the cold.

As much as timing was of the essence around here, the new roles could've waited until morning.

Nighttime had fallen already, and the temperature outside had dropped even further- not to mention a new coating of snow was coming down as well. It was a recipe for a disastrous, miserable night, so he didn't see why someone would willingly want to go out into it.

Charmer included.

Shouldering the room door aside, Drummer Boy stepped in and felt the catch of the door as Charmer caught it behind him; he hadn't been aware that the man had been following so close.

"Tell me I'm not making a mistake by going out with Colada with night just around the corner," the man spoke, already working to get some of his things together- snagging his bag from where it had been kicked underneath his bed.

"Eh, I'll guess you'll just have to find out for yourself," he replied- chuckling lightly at the low groan that escaped the man. "I mean, for the lack of better words, you're both a little lacking in the leg department, and you're both going out into the freezing cold with night coming, all so you can head down to the local Super Duper Mart to take out some ghouls or something. Maybe Super Mutants if you're lucky. Sounds like a perfect plan to me- just make sure that you come back alive, and mostly in one piece- and don't get lost. Dez will have my head if I don't bring you back to HQ with me."

Charmer gave a quiet laugh as he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on- moving some of his extra ammo into those pockets instead for easier retrieval. "Don't worry, I've survived one frozen prison before, I'll survive this."

Yeah, that was one way of putting it.

Drummer Boy shook his head, and stepped back to move out of the man's way- which wasn't easy to do. The two of them still managed to bump arms and bump into one another as they tried to shift out of each other's way. "Alright, knock yourself out then."

"Not worried about me being out there in the cold and darkness?" Charmer teased, pausing as the man tried to step around him between the desk and bed- somewhat pinning the two of them there for the time being.

"Colada's a good man to have watching your back, so I know you're in good hands," he shrugged, as he wrestled his notes out of his pocket and tossed them onto the desk behind Charmer. "Seriously though, High-Rise was right about what he said earlier- keep an eye out for any and all ice, and any potholes that might've been covered by the snow. Colada's a big guy with a big sense of confidence, but one wrong slip would be enough to take him out- and you as well. And the last thing anyone around here needs to do is go on a midnight rescue mission."

"Whatever you say, Carrington," Charmer sarcastically remarked, as he double checked himself before he moved back to his bed to pull his gun out from underneath his pillow. He seemed to relish the weight of it in his hand, before he slipped it into his jacket. "Alright, well I think I'm good to go now- don't miss me too much."

"You're practically already gone to me," Drummer replied.

Charmer shook his head and chuckled lightly as he made his move to leave- squeezing past him once more to get to the door. Not before the man slipped one arm around him, and pulled him in close, allowing him to feel the warmth of his breath against his face; the warmth of the man's lips as they just barely brush against his forehead.

"Stay warm for me."


Drummer Boy managed to catch a few hours of sleep, just enough to work off the impending exhaustion and headache.

The slight lingering chill in the air slowed down his attempts to force himself awake and out of bed- elongating the process by half hour. But the second half of High-Rise's team would be coming in soon, and he needed to make sure that they were personally informed, and had their new assignments as well.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, he glanced over to the empty bed adjacent to his, and remembered that Charmer had set out for the night; a risky move, but the man seemed daring enough on his own. Plus it wasn't like anyone could rightly stop him from doing what he wanted to do. He just hoped that the man took his advice and was being careful out there. And warm as well.

The Railroad couldn't afford to lose someone else- especially not to the cold.

Grabbing his notes, Drummer Boy headed out of the tight room and down the corridor- making his way towards the lounge once more.

He couldn't say that he was surprised to see that the place wasn't empty.

It hardly ever was.

"Don't you have a bedtime?" Drummer remarked as he set his notes down on the same table, before he moved to grab a cup of coffee from the freshly brewed pot. Well, the word fresh should probably be used loosely; the coffee grounds themselves were over two hundred years old.

It was worth noting that White Tide was gone- either having gone back to his room on his own, or having someone else lug him up there.

"Ha ha," Butcher replied from where she was on the other couch hunched over an old game of Solitaire. "No one sleeps around here," she reminded, taking a brief pause before she continued. "Motherboard got back ahead of schedule and brought home, get this, not one, but TWO Synths; apparently our informant in the Institute didn't realize that the two of them had managed to escape together. Anyways, they needed an extra bed, and since they're going to have a rough day tomorrow, I figured what the hell. I never sleep anyways."

Surprising.

An extra Synth was very rare to have- they were usually just lucky if the reported Synth managed to make it out alive.

"Have you thought about changing your name to 'Soft Cut' instead?" Drummer Boy asked, as he carried the fresh cup back to the couch and settled in. Only to barely avoid the ratted cushion that was tossed at him a few seconds later. "In all seriousness though, it was a nice move on your behalf. Not that sleep is really required for them, but they're going to have a rough day tomorrow if they choose to undergo the memory wipe and facial reconstruction."

Butcher gave a shrug, and flipped a card or two out of her aged deck. "They don't really have much of a choice in the matter."

"Glory did," he reminded, only to correct himself. "Then again, we don't get many like her."

"Amen to that," Butcher nodded, before adding. "We don't get many like Charmer either."

"Yeah well, we don't have many cryogenic vaults just sort of lying around, waiting to be open," Drummer Boy remarked. "And not too many two hundred year old war vets from long before the bombs dropped. And certainly not many who would willingly jump so quickly into the fray." He paused for a moment, mindlessly shuffling through his scribbled notes. "So no, we don't have too many like Charmer- if we did, we wouldn't be in the situation we are right now."

Butcher was quiet for a moment, either contemplating what he had just said, or just focused on her game for now.

And it took a few seconds to linger on his own words before he realized how backhanded they might've sounded like. Charmer was important to the Railroad, yes; right now, it might've even felt like he was the most important person that they had. But they had plenty of other agents too- damn good agents like Glory, like Butcher, like Colada, and everyone else who worked in the Commonwealth.

Like everyone else who put their lives on the line for Synths.

And he had inadvertently cut them all down.

"That wasn't suppose to sound like I was undermining your work-"

"Hey, he got the Courser chip, and he got us some data- it's more progress than we've had in months," Butcher interrupted. "I'm good in the field, but Coursers aren't any of my business; I'd rather be in a Yao Guai's jaw than anywhere near a Courser. I'm sure you could attest to that."

He rubbed at the back of his neck, and admitted that she had a good point. The dull throbbing in his back that was making its way up to his ribs was a constant reminder that a Yao Guai certainly didn't sound as bad anymore. It was worth admitting that, inside of the Railroad, there was a reason they had agents, and Heavies- and why the two weren't interchangeable.

"Charmer's codename fits him though- got that pre-war charm about him," Butcher continued, as she carried on with her game- only to glance in his direction, one eyebrow somewhat arched. "Pretty cute with the whole no radiation thing too."

Drummer Boy gave a half-hearted chuckle, and avoided her eyes as he tried to seem focused on his notes instead. "Yeah- I guess."

Butcher gave a hearty laugh in response. "Oh come on, like I didn't notice the way you two were acting around each other before."

Now that was an interesting comment to make, especially considering that Charmer didn't show up until the tail end of their discussion- and then immediately left with Colada a few minutes later. There really wasn't much to take between them- unless Butcher was referring to how Charmer insistently sat on the arm of the couch next to him, and kept his arm propped up behind him. But both of those were pretty harmless gestures, and a bit of a stretch even for Butcher.

"I mean, you two are even sharing a room-"

"You and Motherboard are sharing a room too," Drummer Boy reminded. "We have all shared rooms with one another at some point or another. The same situation goes back at the HQ; it's been going on since Switchboard."

"So you're saying that nothing is going on between you two?" she pressed. "Then you wouldn't mind me moving in?"

He knew she was just teasing him- trying to get under his skin like she always did.

This was just a game to her, and since there was little else to do at this time of night, he figured it wouldn't hurt to play the game in return.

"I didn't say that," he remarked, as he leaned back against the couch now- watching as she did the same in mirror. "I was just implying that you need to have better evidence at your disposal before you come in here making assumptions."

Butcher cracked a grin at him. "I hate you, Drummer."

"The feeling is mutual, Meat," he replied, watching as she went back to her game now, while he needed to get back to his work.

"It's Butcher."

"Sorry, force of habit."

It was an honest lapse in memory, a comforting turn to habit.

He had known her as Meat for so long after all, knowing her as someone else was going to take him some time. But he was used to learning new names, new faces, so it shouldn't take long for him catch on.

Such a minor detail, and yet, it clung to him.

"Yeah well, the next time it's a force of habit, I'm gonna force your habit."

He snorted slightly, and tried to drown the laugh out with another drink of coffee. "It's just... weird that you changed your codename."

"Yeah, Dez said it was unheard of- or at least, no one had ever come to her about it," Butcher nodded. "We're really not given much time to pick and choose, and once it's picked, it's basically settled. After awhile, you just get used to it. I mean, I was happy as Meat, but I think I'm happier as Butcher."

"Glad to hear it," Drummer Boy replied, catching the lingering smile on the woman's lips as she shuffled the cards in her hand. He wondered if she was still even playing Solitaire anymore, or if she was just throwing cards around. "You know, it's kind of weird how the codename makes who you are- kind of makes me start to wonder if we're in the same boat as the Synths. I mean, we change our names, some of us change our faces, and in the end, we're all running from the same thing."

"That's interesting way of looking in on it," she remarked.

He gave a partial shrug, but the idea was already stuck to him now. "I know a lot of people ditched after Switchboard, and I can't blame them for wanting to return to a normal life around here. But I kind of wonder if the situation had been more controlled, if we had had more power, would we have asked any one of them who wanted to run to have their memories wiped too? To protect the Railroad, to protect the Synths- one slip up was all it took for us to nearly get wiped at Switchboard after all." A brief pause as one hand rubbed at the back of his neck. "You kind of have to ask yourself where do we begin and end in this kind of business?"

Silence.

If only momentarily.

"Well it's a good thing I wasn't planning on sleeping tonight, because that's not necessarily something I wanted to sleep on," Butcher spoke. "But now that the thought's there, I guess you have a point. We're all sort of sharing the same plight here- to varies degrees, of course, but still."

Exactly.

"So let me ask you something," Drummer Boy started once more, "since you've changed your codename, do you still remember your real name? Who you were before you were Meat, before you were Butcher?"

Another short pocket of silence.

The woman let out a low whistle and rubbed at the back of her head, before she answered. "I... think so?"

"You don't sound so confident."

"Well it's not like anyone has asked me that before- it's something we all kind of try to avoid," Butcher remarked. "But now that you mention it, it's been awhile since I thought about it. We all get kind of lost in the facade, don't we? Lost in this illusion, in this extended play." A brief pause, and then quiet. "Do you remember yours?"

"Sometimes."


Drummer Boy almost wanted to laugh at the sight of Charmer when the man returned by early morning.

He had still been down in the lounge, killing time by working on some other pieces of work he had brought with him. Butcher had turned in an hour or so before after failing to beat herself at her own card game. And after Motherboard had departed for Goodneighbor with her two Synths in tow- bundled up to cover their faces, and any identifying marks on them. He had considered stepping out for some fresh air, maybe take a walk around the city with High-Rise, when he heard the elevator grind its way up to the lounge.

Charmer looked near frostbitten and red when he stepped out of the elevator- clearly freezing, but looking thoroughly amused just the same. It was almost as though his lips had been frozen into a permanent grin. Despite the winter harshness outside, it seemed like he had definitely enjoyed himself regardless of the snow and cold.

"I like Colada," Charmer started, moving stiff with his good leg as he shuffled across the lounge. "He really knows how to party out there."

"I can see that," Drummer Boy remarked, as he got to his feet to at least offer some assistance to the man. "Then again, there's not too many things out there that are bigger than him. Come on, let's get you upstairs, and hopefully out of those wet clothes before you catch something."

"Jackpot."

He ignored the less than subtle remark, and moved to help Charmer up the staircase- although his stiff limbs made it a little more difficult than he had anticipated. He kept one hand anchored to the man's shoulder, and the other across his back, trying to keep his own clothes from getting wet as well.

"Yeah, I can definitely understand that," Charmer nodded, teeth slightly chattering as they made it back to their shared room. "Dude took on a Reaver like it was nothing."

"You should see him take on a Super Mutant," Drummer replied, watching as Charmer's numb hands struggled to work open his wet, snow-covered jacket off; the man was eventually successful in wiggling out of it, before he let it slump to the floor. The secondary jacket he wore under it was just as equally cold as it clung uncomfortably to his skin and body. He helped to pull Charmer's bag off his shoulder and carefully kicked it back underneath his bed. "We used to host bets on which one weighed more."

Charmer gave a cold laugh as Drummer help him out of his second jacket next, leaving behind just the plaid shirt he was so accustomed to wearing. "I'd be willing to bet on Colada."

"That was my bet too."

A subtle brush against the man's arms and hands revealed his skin to be freezing to the touch still.

Just how long had he been outside exposed to the elements?

And why didn't he come back sooner if it had gotten so cold?

Drummer Boy sighed and briefly rubbed at the man's forearms- trying to work some color other than red back into his skin. "Why don't you take a hot shower and try to warm up before you go into shock?" he offered. "You can even claim the first one of the day."

"Sounds good," Charmer nodded, the light chattering of his teeth near audible at this point. "If I can make it there anyways. Christ, it feels like I got frostbite on toes that aren't even there."

"Yeah, you definitely need to get warmed up then," Drummer Boy replied, before he moved one arm around Charmer's waist. "Come on, let's get you down to the showers while you can still move."

"Taking care of me now, are we?" Charmer teased, as he followed him regardless and stepped back out into the tight hallway with him.

"Like I said, can't show up back at HQ if you're dead."

He lead the man down the corridor to their right, and took one of the makeshift ramps down to the lower floor, where the bathrooms resided. The shower room was semi-refurbished, semi-remodeled to where it took up two rooms instead of just one. High-Rise himself re-did all the plumbing and such to make it work- insisting that such commodities were necessary for his agents. That was why it usually went without saying that the man really did have one of the best safe houses available in the Commonwealth.

The shower itself was decent enough size- big enough to fit three people somewhat comfortably in it. But knowing everyone around here, they probably tried to cram in five or six of them at once.

It wasn't quite like the communal showers they had had down at the original Mercer safe house, but it was close enough. Ticonderoga had hot water at least.

And thankfully, there was already a chair provided inside of the shower cell.

Probably courtesy of Colada.

Drummer Boy released Charmer and moved to get the shower ready and going. Even the shower knobs felt somewhat new, which meant that High-Rise, or someone else, must've found them, or scavenged them from somewhere. An odd sort of thing to look out for, but he wouldn't complain- nor was he really surprised. High-Rise had an odd attention to detail for these sort of things.

He held his hand underneath the running water and felt it slowly warm its way up to an above-average heat.

It felt nice against the cold skin that had touched Charmer.

It would certainly be something he might take advantage of later when he wasn't busy.

"Alright, you should be good to go," Drummer Boy started as he stepped away and turned back towards Charmer, who had already wrestled himself out of his snow-caked boots and shirt. "You can lock the door if you want, but if there's a line outside, just leave the water going- it'll put less stress on the tank."

Charmer numbly nodded as he tossed the plaid shirt onto the sink nearby, before he stripped off his white undershirt next.

Drummer Boy made sure to look away before the man had completely peeled his shirt off- slightly pulling his hat down to block the sight. "You should be fine from here, so I'll head on out and hang your jackets to dry. You probably shouldn't go anywhere else any time soon, so take as much time as you need to to defrost.

"Don't worry about me, I certainly will," Charmer replied with a quiet laugh, as he rubbed at his biceps to hopefully get the blood flowing again. "Hey, just one more thing before you go."

He felt Charmer's hand brush against his arm as he moved to leave, felt blue fingers slightly tangling in the folds of his sleeve. "I'll just be upstairs, it can wait-" he started to assure, more focused on getting the man warmed up again before sickness fell upon him. Unless it already had.

But Drummer Boy felt Charmer's fingers wrap around his arm now, slightly pulling him back towards the man- and an accidental peek at the gesture reminded him that Charmer was still, in fact, shirtless at the moment. The agent's other hand lightly grabbed at his jaw, and the skin of Charmer's palm was near blistering cold against his face. It was enough to stop him now as he focused on how Charmer was leaning down towards him now.

As he felt the colder press of the man's lips against his own now.

Rough and chapped from the winter wind outside.

Charmer was cold, there was no denying that, but the weight and pressure of the man against his lips was near enough to make him melt.

He stumbled to figure out how to react, how to respond, but his body seemed to make a few choices long before his mind could settle on one. His hand moved to brush against Charmer's jaw, circling against its broad shape, before he risked the cold contact and braced his palm against the man's freezing skin anyways. He let himself focus on the press of the man's lips against his own, on the subtle movement as Charmer moved to press his body to him as well.

It lingered a chill on his lips, in his mouth.

"Is there a reason for this?" Drummer Boy questioned, quiet and somewhat breathless when Charmer finally released him. He didn't want him to- even if the chill from Charmer's lips had moved onto his.

"Apparently the cold makes me sentimental," Charmer answered, kissing him short and quick a second time; a momentary pause in conversation. "It makes me think- do you mind if I kiss you?" A slight interjection.

"Not opposed to it," he replied. "I just assumed you got tired of me yanking you around."

Charmer chuckled lightly this time, and kissed him a third time. "The cold reminds me of the Vault, of the years lost and wasted... How something, how someone so important can be ripped away from you in the blink of the eye. How you can go from having everything, to having nothing. And this business is cruel. Everyone always remarks how we're all working on borrowed time, how we just work until the next big setback arrives. The timing is not... perfect, but we're both alive in this moment, and the cold reminds me to cherish that while I still can."

Drummer Boy didn't get a chance to respond, not that he felt he had anything to say in response, before Charmer's lips were back on his.

Before he felt the heat of his mouth, of his tongue as they spilled against his own.

Legs stumbled as they moved back, a mix of jointed pushing and pulling until Charmer had him pressed against the nearest wall- hands tangling themselves in his jacket. His hands touched as Charmer's chest, feeling the bare skin of it against his fingertips as they curled underneath the man's collarbones. He wanted to move them, wanted to scope out the man's body, wanted to feel it move underneath him.

But it hardly seemed fair.

Charmer was at a disadvantage considering he was already partly unclothed.

It hardly seemed to matter though as he felt Charmer's hands wrestle underneath his jacket, underneath his shirt- as he felt hungry fingers curl and prod against his skin, spreading the chill from the outside against him.

He gripped at the back of Charmer's neck, anchoring the man to him, as his other hand moved own to his chest- feeling the subtle build of muscle underneath his palm. Feeling the subtle way Charmer pushed against him, pressing his chest into his own, causing his fingers to stumble down to the man's exposed abdomen instead; his fingers raked through the thick mess of hair that trailed down along the curve of his underbelly.

"Peyton," he managed to mutter out between kisses, still feeling the lingering heat of Charmer's tongue in his mouth between each break.

Charmer stopped for a moment, a subtle break in motion. "Who?"

And he realized that there was truth in his conversation with Butcher from before. The name sounded foreign, sounded heavy on his tongue- for a moment, he was almost convinced he didn't know where it had come from. Briefly wondered if maybe it was a name Doctor Amari had stuck into his head.

But he knew it wasn't.

Knew it was a name he hadn't spoken in years now.

"That's my name," Drummer Boy answered. "You're Elijah, and I'm Peyton."